Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget. Forget.

Ever since Theodore wore this expressionless mask, he could never recall a single awful memory. All that he remembered was a simple, quiet, and utterly boring life. The only “bad” memories he could ever recall were trivial pet peeves.

That was until Cherry’s arrival did his chest randomly ache every so often, but before he could even attempt to ponder the reason, the mask would always interfere, commanding him to forget such discomforting thoughts. This had always been the case so far.

When Cherry got kidnapped from the mansion, his heart stirred out of nowhere, throbbing like never before. Without a warning, it began to beat out of control, pumping out an indescribable sense of fear and dread through his veins and into his skull.

His heartache grew worse, and so did his mask.

Electrical currents wrapped around his brain, drowning out his pounding heart with intrusive whispers that didn’t belong. That bluff he made earlier to his siblings was just so that he could be alone with these thoughts.

As soon as he stepped inside the forest, where no one could disturb him, his aching head and heart grew louder as they finally declared war inside his soul.

Forget.

Theodore hunched over and tightened his hold on his static mask. Buzzing whispers repeated their command, and at the same time, his heartbeat grew noisier, competing to take control of his mind.

Forget.

His legs kept staggering as he wandered through the smoke.

All he had to do was to look for Cherry.

But, how could he?

His ears picked up nothing but the mask and his obnoxious heart, and the red flashes blinded his view. And so, behind the mask, he shut off his eyelids. As soon as he did, the sizzling blood that flowed directly into his eyes began to illuminate. The man in blue clawed at his mask, panting heavily and groaning as his vision pieced out a fragmented scene.

Like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle, before his eyes was a scattered scene of a familiar lady dancing on stage, whose long, straight hair was the color of wine, and her eyes matched the theater’s red curtains.

There he was, sitting in a velvet red seat, blending with the shadows. He glued his eyes on her much like the spotlights above, an unpleasant feeling bubbling much like the feeling he had before he stepped inside the smoke. The spectator directed his attention to the familiar lady’s tranquil face. Right, that dancer was—

Forget.

Theodore yelled out an anguishing cry and punched a tree, shredding off its bark much like the red static that tore off the lady’s smiling face. He pulled on the mask, and the needle-like stings behind his neck picked up their pace while his stubborn heart delivered more fragmented memories of that painful scene.

Before his eyes was the lady dancing on stage with a man in a flamboyant red suit. He was a man whose hair was the vibrant color of flame, and his top hat and cape glittered gold. As he playfully swung his partner around, his cape emitted sparkling stars that floated motionless in the air, sprinkling the stage into a dazzling spectacle with each step. The lady’s hidden gaze remained locked onto her partner as they held each other closely, dancing under the spotlight together.

That damn, thieving fox.

Theodore clutched his chest, burrowing his trembling fingers into his jabot and tightly squeezing it as an ugly emotion began to stir. He raised his other hand and began to reach toward the stage.

But all it touched was the night’s cold air as the commanding voice closed the stage’s curtains, concealing the dancers and snapping the spectator back into the dark smoke.

He stopped in his tracks and twitched his stretched-out fingers now reaching out toward nothing. All that was left was the same heart-wrenching feeling he had when Cherry was deemed kidnapped: the feeling of loss.

It hurt.

It hurt more than he thought.

...Why did it hurt again?

Forget.

“Shut the hell up!” Theodore roared, his blood boiling with anger. He stumbled toward a tree and leaned against it, breathing heavily as cold sweat trailed down his jawline.

Never mind the pain. He wanted more answers. After all this time, how did he end up in this terrible situation? Why was he forced to wear this godforsaken mask? Most of all, how the hell did Cherry come back to—

Forget.

With desperate fury, Theodore bashed his face against the tree’s trunk, breaking off more pieces of bark. His white, emotionless mask, however, remained stubbornly unscathed.

Forget.

He continued to slam his forehead at the same pace as his rapidly beating heart, and all the while, the mask repeated the same words over and over. At this point, he only wished for silence.

Forget.

With a forceful smash, a piece of the trunk’s bark scratched his jawline, and a thin trail of blood oozed out, mixing with his sweat as it trailed down his neck. He stopped slamming his head once he grew dizzy and fell into a daze, and as if his heart recalled another memory from such a state, it pumped another fragmented vision once more.

For a brief moment, a crimson-stained scene of the same lady lying motionless on stage flashed before his eyes, and a silhouette stood behind her. Tears mixed with blood on her cheeks as the same substance stained her hair and dress. Alongside the scene were distant shouts and screams echoing across the auditorium.

There he was, his hands shaking on a gun’s grip with its muzzle leaking out a small trail of smoke.

Theodore clutched his head as the blood-curdling screams transitioned into the ear-piercing ring that haunted him since Cherry’s arrival. He groaned in pain, growing weary as his inner turmoil shuffled his sanity.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

As the cycle of distress continued to spiral, his thoughts began to slip. Before he could fall to his knees, something gently tapped his back.

“Theo?” said a soft voice, lightly poking at him. “Did you hear me? Are you alright?”

He jerked his shoulders and spun around. All he could see was a pink dress with an apron and a head wildly scribbled with crimson red flashes.

“Theo?! Why is your mask acting up again?!” cried a familiar voice. “Are you there?! Say something!”

The masked man remained silent, his red sockets blankly staring down at the individual’s trembling hands as she squeezed her dress caked with leaves and dirt. She took a step forward and raised a fist.

Forget. Forget. For—

“Wake the hell up, Theo!” she hollered, punching his face.

Theodore jerked his shoulders as his mind instantly cleared.

Of course. Of course her voice could pierce through this physical, white barrier.

He stepped back and bumped against the tree as he looked back up at a familiar face wearing a shocked expression.

“What the? The flashes are gone?” Cherry blinked. “Wow. Well now, uh, I didn’t expect that to work. Erm, sorry for hitting you..."

“Cherry?” he croaked, clutching his weary head. “Is... that you?”

“Huh? Yeah, it’s me. Are you alright now, Theo?”

She yelped and gaped her eyes as the eccentric grabbed her shoulders.

“Cherry,” he said quietly, his face inching closer. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Huh?” Her mouth quivered. “What? What is it?”

“Will you smile for me?”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“Just a small smile will do. Please?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure?” She lowered her head and massaged her cheeks. The dancer faced him again, her lips curving into a gentle smile.

Theodore froze. His chest gradually eased with every heartbeat, and his blood cooled down with every inhale of the chilly air. A brief moment later, the spectator slumped his shoulders and lowered his chin with relief, relaxing his grasp on the dancer’s shoulders. He raised his head back up and laughed.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “Feeling much, much better now. Anyway, why do you look so shocked?”

Cherry gaped her eyes wide open. Her lips trembled before slowly stretching into a beaming smile, her eyes twinkling like a sea of stars.

“What? What is it?” Theodore pointed at himself. “Is there something on my face?”

“Absolutely!” Cherry excitedly pointed at his cheek. “There’s a crack on your mask!”