I Think I lost My Mind, but It's My Kind of Love

The whole time she was at the supermarket, she had a vague sense that she was being watched. Naturally, she ignored it, of course. There was no one looking at her; just her paranoia hard at work. To prove her point, she looked up and looked all around her. All she could see were shelves and shelves of wine, soju, rum and all sorts of alcohol about her. Not a single soul around- just as she had thought.

Shaking her head at herself, she looked down and refocused on the dilemma in her hands: which bottle to choose? Both wines were made in the same year and were of the same weight, and yet there was a 2 pound difference. Scanning the ingredients list, she tried to figure out where the value of the 2 pounds came from.

There was a saying, or should have a saying about listening to the voice in your head. Trust your instincts? Was that even a saying? Whatever. If it was, she should have listened to it and kept her wits about her, instead of getting hyper focused on two practically identical bottles of wine with different packaging. Not to mention the fact she honestly could have afforded both.

Then she wouldn't have had someone sneaking up on her and clearing their throat. Then, she wouldn't have turned around, expecting someone to inform her that she was in the way or that her cart was blocking them or that the store was closing so could she please hurry up and choose a bottle already. Instead, she saw him.
Tall, blue eyed and gorgeous, he still looked the same as the day he left.

“Ikaris.” She said, eyes wide at the man in front of her. Now that was someone she didn’t expect to see in a supermarket on a Tuesday night.

“Sersi,” He breathed. She had forgotten how nice her name sounded when he said it.

What are you doing, why are you here, how did you find how, where were you, why did you leave me.

All these questions flooded her mind, none of them she could give voice to.

As she peered into his eyes, she could read the love, the sadness, the longing and- wait. Were his eyes crinkling at the corners, just as they always did just before he started to laugh?

Sersi,” He started. “I, I-”

He wasn't stammering, she knew. He never stuttered. But why?

He got onto his knees and pulled out something from behind his back. In any other place, any other context, this would have been romantic. Not in a supermarket on a weeknight, and not the item being revealed to be a milk carton.

“Sersi, I did it. I found the milk.” He declared.

Huh?

She blinked once. Then a few more times rapidly. Her mind drew a blank as to what he was talking about. As she shook her head and formed the words “Wha-”, it hit her.

Some 100 years ago,

“Ikaris darling, where are you going?” Sersi asked, pausing at the kitchen’s entrance as she spotted Ikaris at the door.

The man in question jerked his hand back from the doorknob like it was on fire. That should have been telling that something was wrong, along with the fact that when he turned, he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

“Sersi, hi.” He said, sounding breathless. It was all so obvious. His smile was too wide, his smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the overly stiff and straightened back.

That day taught her something she had in common with the animals in the barn- apparently none of them could read signs when it was spelled out in front of them. Except the animals weren’t literate and she was just painfully naïve.

“Well, Breakfast is ready.” She gestured to the table behind her, where steaming coffee and fresh toast, butter and jam laid neatly on a plate.

He glanced at the table for a second before lowering his eyes. “Right. I am just,” He gestured at the door. “Going to get some milk.”

She frowned. Wasn’t the barn behind her? Wasn't going through the kitchen door alot faster? Also- “I don't follow, didn’t you milk the cows already-”

“-It’s a different kind of milk.” He cut in hurriedly. “I heard that in a town over there’s a cow that makes brown milk!”

“Are you sure that’s not just an infection?” She joked, confused. Surely he didn’t think that living amongst the humans for so long made her just as superstitious and gullible? When he didn’t laugh, she cleared her throat and fiddled with her apron. “Ahem, anyways, couldn’t it wait till after breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Sersi.” He finally looked into her eyes, and she was taken back by how haunted his eyes looked. “I have to go.”

She watched as he wrenched the door open, strode through the door and as the door closed, she heard a sharp whistle of wind that told her he had flown off from the doorstep. Something she kept asking him not to do because they didn’t need to be accused of witchcraft again.

Geez, since when was milk that important to him?

It took her quite a few months and a visit to the next town to realise that oh, there was no milk or magical cow. Or any sign of Ikaris.

–

The sharp pang of sadness that accompanied these memories snapped her mind back to the present. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind.

She looked down at Ikaris, and at the light brown carton.

Chocolate milk. Very funny.

“Have you paid for the milk?” She asked simply.

He blinked, clearly not expecting this answer. “Uh, yes. It’s from the States actual-” His reply was cut short when she grabbed it out of his hand, snapped the lid open and took large swigs from the carton.

“Something tells me that isn’t actually chocolate milk.” He commented as he stood up, dusting his knees as he did.

“Astute.” She replied drily, carelessly tossing the carton back at him.

Seeing him solved her dilemma, for she then put both bottles of wine into her cart and started to walk away.

“Sersi, wait!” He hurried to catch up, not that she was walking very fast to begin with.

She sighed before turning around to face him, her eyes not quite meeting his. “What is it?”

Through lowered eyes, she saw him wring his arms a few times, seemingly to shake off his nerves before settling on death-gripping it in front of him. “I missed you.”

She frowned. “I'm pretty sure I was the one that drank the alcohol.”

“What?” He asked, confused. Clearly her reply threw him off.

“Maybe it wasn’t as strong as I thought.” She muttered before sighing again, and this time she looked right into his eyes.

“Look, you left for a century, never once called or god forbid, sent a letter. Or a telegram. Or a pigeon. I don’t know, something! At least tell me you were alive!” She threw her hands up. “I had to find out from Ajak because I was freaking out that you died or something!

"And now you come back like nothing ever happened?” She shook her head sadly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

With that, she spun around and marched off. The bottles in the cart clanked in alarm as they were thrown forward, though the iceberg lettuce was there to cushion them.

Just as she expected, she heard his hurried footsteps after her.

“Sersi, wait.” His hand came to rest on the handle, but she pushed it off and continued walking. “No, please. I know how it looks, how it all sounds. But I promise, there is a really good explanation for all of this.”

“You’re only about a hundred years too late.” She retorted, her voice unexpectedly cracking.

Jesus, since when was this aisle so long? She thought to herself as she marched forward, determined to walk away before he could see the tears fall. It was a wonder that no one else had walked past or into their aisle. Then again it was a Tuesday night. No sane person would be here at this time to buy overpriced wine.

“Sersi..” She heard him sigh. She was about to turn out from the aisle when she heard him, his voice low and serious.

“It involved Deviants.”

Now that caught her attention.

She took her time in turning around. “Deviants.” She repeated. Now that was a word she hadn’t heard of in a very long time.

“Yes.” He confirmed. There was no trace of humour in his face; she had no reason not to believe him.

Sersi leaned an elbow on the handle as she watched him. She could see through his steady eye contact, into those wide, earnest eyes that looked as if he wanted to go on, but waited to see if she would listen.

“And what was so top secret about it that you couldn’t tell me?” She prompted.

“So, a few days before that uh-,” He gestured vaguely. “-day, Phastos' equipment detected a Deviant's nest underground.”

“Oh,” She felt herself shiver involuntarily. Now that was two things she hated in one sentence. Damn, double homicide, a meme she saw on the Internet popped into her mind involuntarily.

“I see.” She said, looking down, almost convinced until she did some basic critical thinking. She lifted her head. “I don’t get it. It’s just Deviants. Why couldn’t you tell me just because the setting changed? ”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then?”

He looked away, scratching his chin. She took the chance to take in his features. No, it really seemed as if he never changed. Even without his uniform, he still held himself with unwavering confidence of a soldier, and he never lost any bulk even though their war with the Deviants ended millenia ago. Standing in front of him now, she could clearly see their differences.

Whilst Sersi had rode along the waves of modernity and fully submerged herself in human culture, Ikaris was like the stoic rock that plunged itself firmly on the coast, resistant to the waves and unable to understand or appreciate humanity.

Several long seconds passed, and the short silence was too heavy with unspoken words for her to bear.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She snapped, feeling her patience wear thin. It was far too early in the week, and far too little alcohol in her system for her to deal with past flames and broken promises.

Before she could turn to go, goosebumps suddenly prickled her skin from where he reached out to hold her wrist in a silent plea for her to stay. Looking at their intertwined hands, she was flooded with memories of Babylon, when he held her hands as he confessed his feelings, and invoked dreams in which she held onto his hands to get him to stay that fateful day. In a moment’s weakness, she couldn’t bring herself to shake off his hand, not when she hadn’t held it in over a hundred years.

“There was something else he found. Something that-” He sounded tired. “Can we please do this somewhere else? It’s a lot, and I think you’ll want to sit down.”

She considered his words. She could say no. She could just ask Phastos himself, and avoid hearing whatever flimsy excuse Ikaris was going to conjure up. But she knew him, and knew that he wasn’t someone who gave excuses. But the Ikaris she knew would also never abandon her...

...It had to have been important. Yes, that was the only reason she would give him a chance. There were no other reasons, no ulterior motives or secret desires to see him again. Absolutely none.

“Okay.” She relented. At the very least, she deserved closure.

“Great.” His relief was palpable in his voice. As he released her hand, she hated how quickly she missed the feeling of his hand on hers already.

Ikaris stepped back and looked around, as if finally noticing where they were.

“I’ll uh, let you go back to shopping?” He asked awkwardly.

Sersi debated for a short second before shrugging. “It's fine, I only need to pick up a few more things.”

“Right.” He nodded. He took a step forward, then quickly leaned back. Her lips quirked as she watched him flounder between wanting to help her push the trolley or to step back and let her do her shopping alone.

“If you want to,” she said gently.

“R-right.” He rested his hands on the handle and looked to her. “So, where to next?”

A cheeky smile danced on her lips. “To the milk aisle.”

He snorted, and she almost let out a laugh but quickly caught herself. Not yet. She told herself.

She walked forward, leading the way when she suddenly heard a sputtered cough behind her. She turned around and saw him holding the milk carton at arm’s length, frowning at it like it was the most vile thing he had ever tasted.

Oh right, she had turned the chocolate milk into vodka.

Ikaris hated vodka.
Heh, serves him right.

Then she wouldn't have had someone sneaking up on her and clearing their throat. She wouldn't have turned around, expecting someone to inform her that she was in the way or that her cart was blocking them or that the store was closing so could she please hurry up and choose a bottle already. Instead, she saw him.

Tall, blue eyed and gorgeous, he still looked the same as the day he left.

“Ikaris.” She said, eyes wide at the man in front of her. Now that was someone she didn’t expect to see in a supermarket on a Tuesday night. 

“Sersi,” He breathed. She had forgotten how nice her name sounded when he said it.

What are you doing, why are you here, how did you find how, where were you, why did you leave me.

All these questions flooded her mind, none of them she could give voice to.

As she peered into his eyes, she could read the love, the sadness, the longing and- wait. Were his eyes crinkling at the corners, just as they always did just before he started to laugh?

Sersi,” He started. “I, I-”

He wasn't stammering, she knew. He never stuttered. But why?

He got onto his knees and pulled out something from behind his back. In any other place, any other context, this would have been romantic. Not in a supermarket on a weeknight, and not the item being revealed to be a milk carton.

“Sersi, I did it. I found the milk.” He declared. 

Huh?

She blinked once. Then a few more times rapidly. Her mind drew a blank as to what he was talking about. As she shook her head and formed the words “Wha-”, it hit her. 

Some 100 years ago,

“Ikaris darling, where are you going?” Sersi asked, pausing at the kitchen’s entrance as she spotted Ikaris at the door.

The man in question jerked his hand back from the doorknob like it was on fire. That should have been telling that something was wrong, along with the fact that he couldn't quite meet her eyes.

“Sersi, hi.” He said, sounding breathless. It was all so obvious. His smile was too wide, his smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the overly stiff and straightened back. 

That day taught her something she had in common with the animals in the barn- apparently none of them could read signs when it was spelled out in front of them. Except the animals weren’t literate and she was just painfully naïve. 

“Well, Breakfast is ready.” She gestured to the table behind her, where steaming coffee and fresh toast, butter and jam laid neatly on a plate.

He glanced at the table for a second before lowering his eyes. “Right. I am just,” He gestured at the door. “Going to get some milk.”

She frowned. Wasn’t the barn behind her? Wasn't going through the kitchen door alot faster? Also- “I don't follow, didn’t you milk the cows already-”

“-It’s a different kind of milk.” He cut in hurriedly. “I heard that in a town over there’s a cow that makes chocolate milk!”

“Are you sure that’s not just an infection?” She joked, confused. Surely he didn’t think that living amongst the humans for so long made her just as superstitious and gullible? When he didn’t laugh, she cleared her throat and fiddled with her apron. “Ahem, anyways, couldn’t it wait till after breakfast?”

He shook his head. “Sersi.” He finally looked into her eyes, and she was taken back by how haunted his eyes looked. “I have to go.”

She watched as he wrenched the door open, strode through the door and as the door closed, she heard a sharp whistle of wind that told her he had flown off from the doorstep. Something she kept asking him not to do because they didn’t need to be accused of witchcraft again. 

Geez, since when was milk that important to him? 

It took her quite a few months and a visit to the next town to realise that oh, there was no milk or magical cow. Or any sign of Ikaris. 

–

The sharp pang of sadness that accompanied these memories snapped her mind back to the present. Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind. 

She looked down at Ikaris, and at the light brown carton. 

Chocolate milk. Very funny. 

“Have you paid for the milk?” She asked simply. 

He blinked, clearly not expecting this answer. “Uh, yes. It’s from the States actual-” His reply was cut short when she grabbed it out of his hand, snapped the lid open and took large swigs from the carton. 

“Something tells me that isn’t actually chocolate milk.” He commented as he stood up, dusting his knees as he did. 

“How astute.” She replied drily, carelessly tossing the carton back at him.

Seeing him solved her dilemma, for she then put both bottles of wine into her cart and started to walk away.

“Sersi, wait!” He hurried to catch up, not that she was walking very fast to begin with. 

She sighed before turning around to face him, her eyes not quite meeting his. “What is it?”

Through lowered eyes, she saw him wring his arms a few times, seemingly to shake off his nerves before settling on death-gripping it in front of him. “I missed you.” 

She frowned. “I'm pretty sure I was the one that drank the alcohol.” 

“What?” He asked, confused. Clearly her reply threw him off. 

“Maybe it wasn’t as strong as I thought.” She muttered before sighing again, and this time she looked right into his eyes. 

“Look, you left for a century, never once called or god forbid, sent a letter. Or a telegram. Or a pigeon. I don’t know, something! At least tell me you were alive!” She threw her hands up. “I had to find out from Ajak because I was freaking out that you died or something! 

"And now you come back like nothing ever happened?” She shook her head sadly. “It doesn’t work like that.”

With that, she spun around and marched off. The bottles in the cart clanked in alarm as they were thrown forward, though the iceberg lettuce was there to cushion them.

Just as she expected, she heard his hurried footsteps after her. 

“Sersi, wait.” His hand came to rest on the handle, but she pushed it off and continued walking. “No, please. I know how it looks, how it all sounds. But I promise, there is a really good explanation for all of this.”

“You’re only about a hundred years too late.” She retorted, her voice unexpectedly cracking.

Jesus, since when was this aisle so long? She thought to herself as she marched forward, determined to walk away before he could see the tears fall. It was a wonder that no one else had walked past or into their aisle. Oh right, it was a Tuesday night. No sane person would be here at this time to buy overpriced wine. 

“Sersi..” She heard him sigh. She was about to turn out from the aisle when she heard him, his voice low and serious. 

“It involved Deviants.”

Now that caught her attention. 

She took her time in turning around. “Deviants.” She repeated. Now that was a word she hadn’t heard of in a very long time. 

“Yes.” He confirmed. There was no trace of humour in his face; she had no reason not to believe him. 

Sersi leaned an elbow on the handle as she watched him. She could see through his steady eye contact, into those wide, earnest eyes that looked as if he wanted to go on, but waited to see if she would listen. 

“And what was so top secret about it that you couldn’t tell me?” She prompted.

“So, a few days before that uh-,” He gestured vaguely. “-day, Phastos' equipment detected a Deviant's nest underground.”

“Oh,” She felt herself shiver involuntarily. Now that was two things she hated in one sentence. Double homicide, a meme she saw on the Internet popped into her mind involuntarily.

“I see.” She said, looking down, almost convinced until she did some basic critical thinking. She lifted her head. “I don’t get it. It’s just Deviants. Why couldn’t you tell me just because the setting changed? ”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then?”

He looked away, scratching his chin. She took the chance to take in his features. No, it really seemed as if he never changed. Even without his uniform, he still held himself with unwavering confidence of a soldier, and he never lost any bulk even though their war with the Deviants ended millenia ago. Standing in front of him now, she could clearly see their differences.

Whilst Sersi had rode along the waves of modernity and fully submerged herself in human culture, Ikaris was like the stoic rock that plunged itself firmly on the coast, resistant to the waves and unable to understand or appreciate humanity.

Several long seconds passed, and the short silence was too heavy with unspoken words for her to bear. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She snapped, feeling her patience wear thin.  It was far too early in the week, and far too little alcohol in her system for her to deal with past flames and broken promises.

Before she could turn to go, goosebumps suddenly prickled her skin from where he reached out to hold her wrist in a silent plea for her to stay. Looking at their intertwined hands, she was flooded with memories of Babylon, when he held her hands as he confessed his feelings, and invoked dreams in which she held onto his hands to get him to stay that fateful day. In a moment’s weakness, she couldn’t bring herself to shake off his hand, not when she hadn’t held it in over a hundred years. 

“There was something else he found. Something that-” He sounded tired. “Can we please do this somewhere else? It’s a lot, and I think you’ll want to sit down.” 

She considered his words. She could say no. She could just ask Phastos himself, and avoid hearing whatever flimsy excuse Ikaris was going to conjure up. But she knew him, and knew that he wasn’t someone who gave excuses. But the Ikaris she knew would also never abandon her...

...It had to have been important. Yes, that was the only reason she would give him a chance. There were no other reasons, no ulterior motives or secret desires to see him again. Absolutely none.

“Okay.” She relented.  At the very least, she deserved closure. 

“Great.” His relief was palpable in his voice. As he released her hand, she hated how quickly she missed the feeling of his hand on hers already. 

Ikaris stepped back and looked around, as if finally noticing where they were. 

“I’ll uh, let you go back to shopping?” He asked awkwardly. 

Sersi debated for a short second before shrugging. “It's fine, I only need to pick up a few more things.”

“Right.” He nodded. He took a step forward, then quickly leaned back. Her lips quirked as she watched him flounder between wanting to help her push the trolley or to step back and let her do her shopping alone. 

“If you want to,” she said gently. 

“R-right.” He rested his hands on the handle and looked to her. “So, where to next?”

A cheeky smile danced on her lips. “To the milk aisle.”

He snorted, and she almost let out a laugh but quickly caught herself. Not yet. She told herself. 

She walked forward, leading the way when she suddenly heard a sputtered cough behind her. She turned around and saw him holding the milk carton at arm’s length, frowning at it like it was the most vile thing he had ever tasted. 

Oh right, she had turned the chocolate milk into vodka. 

Ikaris hated vodka. 

Heh, serves him right.