“Luke, are you listening to me?” Allen snapped his fingers in front of Luke’s face to try and get his attention. “This is important. Now is not the time for you to be drifting off in your own head.”

Luke batted Allen’s hand away and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He stifled a yawn before dragging his attention back to the empty walls of the gallery they were standing in. “So, I’ll just round up some of my old stuff. We can fill this place easily,” Luke shrugged.

“No, you don’t understand. You’ve put that stuff into shows before. People have seen your work. Luke, you’re my friend. As my friend, people are going to expect that you’ll only give me your best. This is going to be my debut. This is going to pave the way for my success or failure. So you can’t just reuse your old work.” Allen sounded distraught as he gestured animatedly at the empty walls.

“Starting from scratch is going to take weeks, maybe even months. We’re talking dozens of pieces, and with the way things are lately, I’m not operating at a hundred percent right now.” Luke shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry Allen, but as your friend I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I’m willing to wait. The gallery isn’t going anywhere. I’ve got other projects in the meantime to keep me busy. Rent on this place isn’t too terrible, and if you can give me a stellar opening then it’ll be more than worth the wait.” Allen folded his arms and leveled a steady gaze at Luke. “I want you to do this for me. Right now your heart is broken. You’re in agony. What better time is there for an artist to bare his soul on canvas?”

Luke forced a laugh. “I see, taking advantage of my pain for your own capitalistic endeavors. You’re cruel, Allen.”

“But you still love me anyway.” Allen winked.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But I can’t give you a time frame right now. I haven’t even picked up a brush in months. I was too busy before and after...”

“I understand,” said Allen, laying a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “But don’t worry. There’s no pressure. I’ve still got a few of your pieces that I’m shopping around to other clients so you should have a couple of paychecks coming in before too long. Just paint, get it all out there. When you’ve got enough canvases we’ll hang them all up and open the doors.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help,” said Luke with a sigh as he dragged out his cell phone and looked at the time. Nearly five o’ clock. On a normal day, Hunter would be coming home from work soon and Luke would be laying out an immaculate dinner for them to share.

“Why don’t you let me buy you dinner?” suggested Allen, noticing the distant look on Luke’s face. “We can seal our contract with a beer.”

“I think I’m going to take a rain check,” said Luke, tucking his phone back into his pocket once more. “I’ve got to get home.”

Allen took a deep breath and shook his head slowly. “Have you even talked to him?”

“No,” admitted Luke. “I can’t. I don’t know what to say.”

“After everything you went through, after all the proclamations you made while he was in the hospital, and you’re not even going to try now?” Allen folded his arms. “You can’t let it end like this.”

“I know, but I can’t just walk up and say ‘hello’ either.”

“Why not?” Allen shrugged. “You’re neighbors. How did you introduce yourself before you started dating?”

“That’s not going to work this time,” said Luke.

“It might. You never know. Why don’t you stop beating yourself up and go after him? Haven’t you punished yourself enough already?”

Luke looked towards one of the exterior windows. Cars drove past and people bustled by on the street. They were all completely oblivious to the turmoil that surged through him in that moment. Maybe Allen was right. Maybe the key to getting Hunter back was to start from the beginning.

Hope began to rise in his chest. A plan began to formulate in his head. He mumbled a goodbye to Allen and staggered out into the early evening twilight.

It had been weeks since he’d felt any eagerness to return home. His loft apartment had felt dismal and empty in the time since Hunter had awoken. Now, however, his feet were light as he walked the three and a half blocks to get home again.

The doorman greeted him with a smile as always, but Luke hardly noticed as he flew through the doors. He was going to recreate that first, perfect moment when he and Hunter had met for the first time. If everything went according to plan, then this time tomorrow they would be on their first real date.

Luke stepped off the elevators on the fourth floor with a spring in his step while fishing his keys out of his pocket. He didn’t see the slender figure heading his way.

They collided in the middle of the hall. They bounced off one another, recoiling several steps, and muttering apologies to one another.

It took a moment for Luke to gather his thoughts and take stock of the situation. There, standing before him dressed in his best blazer and nicest blue jeans, was Hunter.

“Sorry about that,” said Luke, trying to remain calm as he faced the man standing across from him. “Looks like you’ve got a date tonight.” He’d meant it as a lighthearted joke to try and play off some of the awkwardness of the situation. When Hunter began to blush, however, Luke’s heart dropped to his toes.

“Y-yeah,” muttered Hunter, sounding incredibly self-conscious. “I-I guess you’re one of my neighbors? I know we’ve probably met before, but you probably heard about my injury. So if we could start again...” his voice trailed off as he cleared his throat, looked up at Luke, and extended his hand with a smile. “I’m Hunter. I live in 405.”

Luke felt his heart breaking all over again as he looked into those lovely eyes. This wasn’t the perfect moment he had envisioned, but it was a start. One he couldn’t risk losing.

He took Hunter’s hand and forced a friendly smile. “I’m Luke. I’m in 406.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke,” said Hunter. “I need to get going, but I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again sometime.” He turned, continuing down the hall towards the elevators.

Luke’s pulse quickened, and his heart pounded in his chest. He needed to do something, to say something. He had no plan, no well thought out speech. Just a desire and he couldn’t help but give voice to it.

“Will you let me cook you dinner sometime?” he called after Hunter and instantly regretted it.

Hunter froze in his tracks and looked back at Luke with an uncomfortable expression on his face. Luke scrambled to come up with some sort of excuse.

“It’s just that, we did know each other before, and you were terrible at keeping food in your cupboards. I mean, it was presumptuous of me to assume that you might need help. I’m sorry, just forget it...” he sighed and turned away slowly.

“I...” Hunter began to speak and Luke desperately wished he could unsay everything.

“I think,” continued Hunter, “that I might like that.”

It was Luke’s turn to freeze in place. Had he actually heard that right? He looked back at Hunter.

“I don’t know if it’s because of the memory loss, or if I’ve always been like this, but I can’t cook. I can’t even follow a basic recipe. I can’t ask my family for help because...well I just can’t. I can’t remember what our friendship was like before, but since you offered I’m willing to accept.” Hunter looked somewhat embarrassed to admit his shortcomings, but Luke felt encouraged by it all.

“Why don’t we take it one step further?” suggested Luke before he could stop himself. “Why don’t I give you cooking lessons? There’s that old saying, ‘give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, feed him for a lifetime.’”

“Alright then,” agreed Hunter. “Tomorrow evening? Around this time?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“I look forward to it. See you then.” Hunter turned on his heel and continued down the hall towards the elevator.

Reality crashed back in on Luke. He had made plans to spend time with Hunter, meanwhile Hunter was on his way to a date with some unknown person. How was that even possible? He was an amnesiac with no connections.

Fighting off the rising sense of frustration, Luke returned to his apartment. Blank and painted canvases were crammed into almost every free space. Several easels stood at various points across the room to make use of the light throughout the day. Every visible surface was filled with knickknacks and souvenirs, memories from the life he’d lead until this point. Everything here had a reason for existence. There was almost nothing within this space that was there simply because it looked nice.

The only place that was free of art and clutter was the immaculate kitchen. This was his sanctuary. Cooking was another form of art, after all, but it was one that benefited from a more measured approach. He retreated to this corner when the chaos of life encroached on him and he needed balance. Following a recipe to the best of his ability, and knowing with certainty the end result would be beautiful and delicious was the ultimate way for him to unwind.

Despite the fact that he had spent most of his adult life creating this space to be exactly what he wanted, it now felt empty to him. The memories were old and had begun to grow stale. The refrigerator was full of take out boxes. When you had no one to cook for, it was hard to find a reason to cook. It was difficult to relax in a place where the face of his former lover stared at him from painted canvases scattered throughout the room. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to put them away.

––––––––

LUKE COLLAPSED ONTO the sofa and reached for the box crammed under the coffee table. It was torture to look at the contents, but he couldn’t help it.

One trembling hand reached in and pulled out one of the dozens of unsent, blue and gold, wedding invitations. The words on the front were immortalized forever in his heart, “Hunter Kilder and Luke Morrison cordially invite you to celebrate their wedding.”

The date was for four months ago.

The picture on the front of the invitation was one he remembered well. He and Hunter, holding one another and laughing in front of a waterfall. Allen had been the one to take it for them. They’d driven for nearly an hour to reach the falls and then had to wait for a break in the rain to snap the picture.

Hunter had tripped on a rock and Luke had barely managed to catch him in time. They’d started laughing for no reason at all when Allen snapped the picture. That moment was forever frozen in time, immortalized in photographic form. But no matter what happened, Hunter would never remember that moment.

Luke set the box aside and glanced towards the far window where a large canvas sat covered with a sheet. He rose and approached the canvas hesitantly. One hand stretched towards the sheet, but at the last moment he withdrew again. He couldn’t bring himself to look at that painting. Not now.

Frustration and pain throbbed in his veins as he stormed towards one of his easels. Grabbing one of the empty canvases nearby, he threw himself into his work.