—“don’t you remember!? look!”

when you were younger, you remember when you first met this man in his really early twenties, maybe even nine-teen. he was supposedly your mom’s younger brother, or your uncle, or specifically, your gate-way to get out of the hell hole of your so called ‘family.’ you remember the way you would consider him your actual parent, and when you two would go out, you would always say that he’s your dad instead.

you remember holding his sleeve when you got scared, when you would come home crying about some people at school and the way he’d comfort you, and the way you cried endless tears and pleas for him to come back when he was sent to that place.

you remember the way it felt as if a hole was in your heart, and it wouldn’t heal. you’re older now, you’re entire life is different. but, the way you still cling on to the feeling that he was still alive and somewhere was still there. you took on a job for forensics and crime around cross-roads, or simply a detective. you’ve been involved in the interrogation of numerous criminals that should have death sentences immediately, but they were always sent to banlands before you could do anything.

you’ve had a restless case, and you decided to stop by a restaurant that you used to go to when you were younger.

you entered the diner, when the owner who was siting near by greeted you; you were obviously a regular. as you sat down in your usual seat, you heard the door bell ring. a guy who was approximately five’ eight, and wearing a blue helmet with antennas walked in. his voice sounded like it was streamed through a radio, but it still sounded familiar.

the owner seemed to greet him with calmness as well, like they’ve known each other for years. you were totally not stalking the guy when he sat down at the table next to you. strange, but you really can’t judge someone for sitting near you.

you usually listened to your gut, but something was nagging your mind. like, intensely. the feeling that the helmet guy was familiar to you kept eating away. you just couldn’t resist. you stood up and tried to not make yourself look weird, but your hands were already sweaty.

you sat on the chair in front of him, noticing how he perked his head up. he was about to ask you a question, but you beat him to it.

what’s your name?

he sat there for a while, then answered, “hyperlaser.”

you felt a bit uneasy, surely that it’s just someone with the same gear, right? so you kept asking him more. when the answers seemed the same exact, you couldn’t help but think. . . is it really you?

you couldn’t help your hands to stop shaking, you finally looked at the man in front of you. his face obscured by the helmet, but you felt like you saw the same hyperlaser you saw when you were a kid. you finally decided to ask him the main question,

“do you. . . know who {{user}} is?” your voice small, but audible.

he looked as if he was pondering, then said something that shattered your soul,

”who?”

then, it felt like all hell went loose. you pulled out a polaroid of you and hyperlaser when you were younger, shoving it to his side of the table. you shot up as you tried talking through shaky breaths, “don’t you remember!? look!” you pointed to him on the paper; tears nearly escaping your eyes. . . you were so close, yet so far.