Something had changed. Something he couldn't pinpoint and therefore couldn't react to, something that subtly rubbed him the wrong way. Something that made the little one worry and pace which in turn made him worry. Time and time again he had tried helping, doing something to make little one relax and each time it failed. He didn't want little one to worry. He wanted little one to smile and laugh and happy, all the things he couldn't do while worrying.

With each day passing, little one just worried more and more and with each day passing he forgot more, remembered less and it scared him but he knew that he couldn't ask little one to help. No, little one had enough worries already and he didn't want to add more worries because then little one would surely never smile ever again.

Then one day, She visited.

She walked through the door and dragged in the stench of sea, rotting seaweed and death. She started putting her hands all over little one, cooing things at him and little one didn't like it, standing completely straight and tense. She had started talking to him in that tone that meant that she wanted something and she wanted it right then and there, no questions asked and little one had looked scared, absolutely terrified. Then little one refused and She had slapped little one right across the face, clawing his cheek open and letting blood spill to the floor. Little one had just taken it, even when She had started hissing those poisonous words at him, even when she left little one had stayed right where he was, frozen completely. The only thing signifying that time actually passed what the sound of little ones blood dripping to the floor, puddling there slowly.

At some point, little one had finally moved, going to clean the floor while completely ignoring Algedi who just watched with wide eyes, remaining completely silent.

Neither of them had dared go against Her and neither of them judged each other for that. Little one knew better than that and Algedi just didn't know how to judge little one for making the same mistakes as he did.

After that day, little one seemed almost scared, always hesitant to touch him, to even talk to him, even if he only understood half. He started staying away from little one, not wanting to make him move away. He couldn't form the words to ask what he had done wrong, even after trying countless times. Every time he tried talking to little one, he found more and more of his words gone which just made him scared that little one would think that he was stupid if he even tried talking. He stopped trying to remember the words, accepted the silence and even embraced it, trying to get his meaning across through gestures and pictures. He didn't know how to shape words like little one could with ink, an endless stream of letters in neat rows and sections, none of which made sense but it looked pretty, so he watched. He watched little one write and listened to him talk, wondering if litle one even knew that he didn't understand.

One day, little one said something and then kept repeating it, looking directly at him and he didn't know how to react, not understanding and not having the words to reply. Then little one started trying to teach him the words but he just couldn't get the words right, never knowing how to make the words come out properly. Though, he did slowly learn how to understand what little one said when he spoke and then little one started teaching him gestures instead, gestures that meant the same as words and those he did understand. He took it all in, immensely excited to have his words back, at least in a metaphorical sense. He would still watch little one write and listen to him speak, just taking in the sound of his voice but now he could reply if he wished and that encouraged him to actually reply and for once he didn't forget every single day. Instead he learned more and more though there were still gestures he didn't really understand or things he couldn't get to come across properly, but then he would try and little one would help him find the right words and that made him happy. He especially loved telling jokes and little histories because it always made little one smile and that in turn made him smile.

As soon as he could communicate properly little one started teaching him letters, showing him their meaning and how to shape them with ink, endless streams in neat little sections that slowly started making sense and then he could make little one smile even more which then encouraged him to continue learning.

He started painting again though little one kept insisting that it wasn't painting but drawing and each time he would just roll his eyes at little one and continue painting with the pencils he also used to write with and the drawings helped him express himself even further, even more so when he got the materials to put color on them, bright and warm colors when he thought of the times him and little one spent together and cold blues, greens and purples for the times when little one was gone and nobody else understood his gestures properly, when he lost his words again.

He started working on drawing little one at any and all times. When he was working, when he was relaxing, when he was chatting with friends and when he was angry. He never showed little one those drawings of course. They were too precious, too close to his heart for him to risk getting them taken away.

Drawing gave him words just as much as the gestures did because what he couldn't explain with the gestures, he just explained with colors and shapes. He explained it with bright sparks, stars, flowing and curling shapes, sharp angles and rounded corners, everything he could think of he put on the paper, sometimes with pencils, sometimes with crayons and even sometimes with real paint. He faintly remembered painting with bright blood and having enjoyed it, but now the thought made him nauseous because it reminded him of when She had visited and little one had been bleeding. When he remembered things he always started drawing or writing it down, just in case he would forget it later.

When little one returned home one day with white wrapped around one of his arms and limping slightly as he walked, he gave Algedi a small book and several new pencils, telling him to save his memories and thoughts in that instead of leaving the papers laying all over where they might get destroyed. Of course, little one was right and it didn't take long before the book was filled with memories, thoughts, colors and shapes, soft blues, greens and purples, happy colors. He started drawing things he saw, flowing water, the flowers little one sometimes forgot watering, the kitchen were little one barely spent any time because it was a mess, half hidden behind dirty plates and silverware and Algedi found himself wanting to get rid of it all so little one showed him how so he could get started which he then did eagerly, just happy to learn and help. When he was done with that he sat in a corner of the kitchen and started drawing and writing again, for once ignoring little one when he started talking. He was busy drawing his happiness, soft corners and golden, warm colors, things that reminded him of his happiness and the feeling of for once actually remembering.