Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Chapter 137: The Ghost in the Red Suit

Alaric

​My breath caught slightly as I listened, my mind trying desperately to spark a memory.

​"I asked you what you lost," Nico continued, his fingers gently squeezing mine. "And you told me it was a piece of red Formula 1 merchandise. A little teddy bear wearing a bright red suit. You told me it represented your father, so you couldn’t lose it. But when I asked you what the bear’s name was, you sniffled and said you didn’t know, that you hadn’t given it a name yet."

​Nico chuckled softly, the sound incredibly human as he looked down, kicking a loose stone on the path into the grass.

​"So, I told you we should call it Harold. And then, the two of us spent the next hour walking around, kicking stones out of the way, and searching every corner of the area trying to find where you might have dropped it."

​The second the name left his lips, my entire world ground to a sudden stop.

​Harold.

​My heart started pounding dangerously fast, a heavy, suffocating weight hitting my chest. The name echoed in my mind, perfectly aligning with everything Harold had told me, but hearing it come directly from Nico’s mouth changed everything.

​I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes wide as I stared at him, my voice barely a breathless whisper. "What... what did you just say?" I asked, my grip tightening on his hand. "What did you call the teddy bear’s name, Nico?"

​Nico blinked, turning his full attention to me, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Harold," he responded simply. He took a half-step closer, searching my panicked face. "Is anything wrong, Alaric?"

Everything was deeply, terrifyingly wrong.

​My lungs seized, refusing to draw in the cool sea air as the name Harold echoed like a gunshot in the silence of my mind. "I am a character created by both of you a long time ago." That was what he had told me. The voice in my head, the friend that had been guiding me, spending time with me, and watching over me ever since I woke up from the wreckage of my accident wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t a ghost.

He was a piece of fabric and stuffing that a childhood version of Nico had named on a bathroom floor in Japan.

​But I couldn’t remember it. I couldn’t picture the red suit, the plastic eyes, or the fur.

It was as if a massive, heavy iron door had slammed shut inside my brain, locking all those memories away in the dark where I couldn’t reach them.

​A violent rush of blood hit my face. The skin beneath my collar flushed scalding hot, a sudden, suffocating heat rising up my neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the setting sun.

My vision blurred at the edges, the horizon of the Monaco sea tilting dangerously as a cold sweat broke out across my palms.

My chest heaved, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I was certain the fabric of my shirt was visibly twitching with every erratic thud.

​Nico stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden weight of his gaze felt heavy, grounding me as he stepped directly into my line of sight. He reached up, his large, warm hand cupping the side of my face, his thumb executing a slow, soothing caress against my burning cheekbone.

​"Alaric?" he asked slowly, his voice dropping into a quiet, gentle tone that was mixed with genuine concern. "Are you alright? You’ve gone completely pale."

​I just stared at him. The sound of his voice felt distant, like I was listening to him underwater.

My eyes locked onto the sharp angles of his jaw, the familiar warmth in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips. This man. This arrogant, irritating, beautiful man had been woven into the very fabric of my life since the very beginning, and I hadn’t had a single, damn clue.

​The panic was clawing at the back of my throat, threatening to swallow me whole, but the firm, steady pressure of his palm against my skin was the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.

The trailing of his thumb moving against my cheek slowly dragged me back from the edge of a total meltdown. I didn’t know if I should be utterly grateful to him for being my anchor, or if I should scream at him for keeping this a secret. But right now, the burning thirst for answers outweighed everything else. I was dying to know.

​"Did we..." I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like sandpaper as I forced the words out. "Did we ever find Harold?"

​Nico let out a soft, breathy chuckle, though his eyes remained intently fixed on mine. He shook his head, a fond, slightly amused look passing over his features. "No. We didn’t. We searched until my dad came looking for me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have even believed you if you didn’t show me an image of him while we were searching for him.’’

​The revelation hit me hard.

I stepped back, pulling away from his touch because the intensity of his proximity was making it too hard to think. Turning toward the shore, I let out a ragged, trembling sigh and let my legs give out, dropping heavily onto the cool, damp sand of the bank.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, burying my face against them as the puzzle pieces finally violently slammed together.

​"Harold," I slowly muttered into the empty space between us.

​That was why. That explained the absolute mystery of why Harold was never, ever around whenever Nico was with me.

The voice in my head always vanished the second Nico stepped into my space.

We were never supposed to find the bear, but he had manifested himself again, shaping a consciousness out of my broken mind just after my accident.

​I clutched my head, my fingers tangling into my blonde hair as a shuddering breath escaped me. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that for two years, I had been having full, vivid conversations with a lost teddy bear—a childhood relic I had dropped years ago, pulled from memories that my own conscious mind couldn’t even recall.

​And the fact that Nico remembered every single detail, down to the name and the stones we kicked on the path, made a sharp twist of bitter envy settle in my stomach.

It made it seem like he was the type to be deeply observant, keeping every fragment of us tucked away in his heart, while I was just the defective type to forget everything quickly.