PETER

_

"So your name is Peter," she said, watching as I entered the glass box again.

It was already around noon, and I had gone to Delmar's to grab us some lunch. She didn't remember Delmar's, but I was hoping a sandwich might bring back some of her memories.

Lingering by the wall, I nodded my head, "yeah."

"And my name is [y/n]," she clarified.

"[y/n] [l/n]."

"How did we meet?" She asked, her gaze drifting over to the paper bag in my hand, "Peter."

"You live with me."

"I do?"

"Yeah, you do."

I went to give her a flashy smile, but she cut me off and rolled her eyes. I guess she still hasn't warmed up to me completely.

"Okay, listen here," she started, "I'm only asking you these questions to gain information."

I nodded, "sure."

"Don't get the wrong idea."

"I would never."

Oh, I totally would. There's no way she'd bother asking my name, if she didn't want to know me better! This was definitely a good sign. A very good sign. I already gained some respect points from beating her in every fight yesterday, too.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the bag in my hand.

I held it out, the contents inside swinging around, "a sandwich from Delmar's."

"What kind of sandwich?"

"Your favorite."

"I don't have a favorite, but...thanks, I guess."

She approached me slowly, snatching the bag out of my hands, and retreating to her side of the box. I forgot she didn't like being near people, since she used to like being near me.

"I don't suppose you'd let me eat with you," I started, biting my lip, "you know...like a friend?"

"Stop saying that word."

"Oh-- sorry."

I blinked, waiting for her to answer my question, but she just blinked back. After a few more seconds of silence, she took a step forwards and pointed at the ground. Making a sharp line with her finger, she sat down.

"See this line?" She asked, "don't cross it."

PROGRESS!

Plopping down, I watched as she took out the sandwiches, and slid one over to me. I picked mine up, unwrapping it from the foil.

"So how have you been?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I don't know ---sorry, how are you?"

She scrunched her nose, taking a bite from her food, "ask the guards watching me every single second."

"I could bring you something, to pass the time, ya'know?"

"What?"

"Like a movie," I suggested, "like that one cool movie with Luke Skywalker....and Princess Leia... and..?"

I was trying to get her to finish my sentence, in the hopes that she'd remember. It didn't work in the slightest. She just ignored it.

"Fine," she said, "but don't expect me to watch it with you."

"Oh, I would never."

I wish I could.

I wish I could sit on top of a car, watching an epic lightsaber battle with her, while talking about her past and everything there was to know about her. I liked listening to her.

I liked watching her drive the car, nodding her head to whatever song was playing on the radio. I liked hearing her laugh for the first time, and I liked seeing the blush on her cheeks when she got embarrassed.

I liked how she trusted me, even if it took a few weeks to do so. I liked the pictures of ducks she'd send me. I liked all of it. I liked...her.

Oh.

Damn.

I did really like her.

That sudden realization hit me like a truck, and I accidentally choked on a piece of my sandwich. A few strands of lettuce fell out of my food and onto the floor, and I stuck out my bottom lip in defiance.

"Sorry," I scrambled, wiping it up, "I'm a slob."

She shrugged, "I know."

Wait, what?

I snapped my head up, desperate to know if I heard her right. She knew? How did she know? How could she know, unless a part of her remembered all the times I messed stuff up?

"What?" she sighed, narrowing her eyes.

I laughed sheepishly, realizing I had been staring, "it's nothing, never mind."

But it wasn't nothing. It wasn't nothing at all. Even if she didn't mean to say it, it meant she was getting better.

She was starting to remember.