Harland's weird trick of memory was, in fact, enough to fill several pages in a notebook for each individual person he knew. Some of the information was insignificant to him; it was difficult to find, took a lot of time lost in thought. Some of it, however, was at the front of his mind.

Alistaire was at the front of his mind.

Some of the things that he has learned, for documentation' sake, follow; some directly from his book, some vague recollections.

When they first met, Harland initially thought perhaps their conflict would be fun. He thought perhaps he could sway Alistaire to the side of good. However, they had to fight, because Harland figured Alistaire wanted to assert dominance in a sort of subtle way and Harland didn't really like that.

During their fight, Harland started to believe that Alistaire was, perhaps, true evil.

Harland, in the middle of the fight, stopped to let Alistaire catch his breath. Instead, Alistaire chose that moment to attack again, calling him naive. Harland used his Duel at Sundown FEAR charge and rendered Alistaire unconscious.

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"Sometimes there are just people that aren't worth it."
"Maybe I could even believe in you."
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I sincerely thought that perhaps Alistaire was true evil; he was unrelenting, Grimshaw was terrifying, and everything he did had a predatory edge to it. During our fight, he hit hard and often. In the end, however, I survived. Alistaire fainted, and Ian came to collect him-- I had not seen Ian in so long.

I still loved him thought I loved him.

When we fell to the ground, before Ian came for Alistaire, I remember asking him what he did last Valentine's day-- I still didn't realize that Alistaire was Ian's brother, imagine. He said, "Nothing. It's a ridiculous holiday, and I saw no point in participating in something so frivolous."

I asked him because he had told me I was like Ian, and that made me think. Made me think of how I spent it alone, despite Ian's promise-- not Ian's fault, I told him he could go. He had other places to be, I know. I knew as soon as he disappeared, before I ever got that kiss.

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The next step was the lessons. Alistaire texted Harland shortly after their fight and the subsequent recovery, and though Harland didn't know who was texting, he met him outside the dorms anyway. That's just how he is.

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"You will teach me how to interact with people."
"Sure, I'll do my best."
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I had no idea what Alistaire wanted, and I had no idea how to proceed. All I knew was that he asked for my help, so I'd do what he'd asked me to. I had no idea he was so averse to touch, though I had suspected something from the way he became distressed during our fight.

I remember comparing him, mentally, to the lichen of humans: maybe he didn't need affection, like moss and lichen didn't need the light to live. I was never like that. I desperately wanted to be held and touched, I just didn't want it from anyone. So I lived without it.

Alistaire opened a door in me that I couldn't shut. I didn't know what was happening. It was that night he admitted to me it was called Haphephobia.

Who was it that hurt him? I wanted to repair the damage, but to this day, he still hasn't told me who it was. Who cut into him so deeply that he would rather lash out than let me touch him.

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"Take it. My hand."
"Taken."
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The next time they met, Harland aimed to share his last bit of whiskey with Alistaire. He brought what was left from his old life, and glasses, and met Alistaire when he'd been told to arrive via text. In ten minutes, in Alistaire's room, specifically.

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"Seemed rude t' sit on your bed, an' I didn't know if you'd want the chair."
"It's a bed, not a marriage certificate."
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The idea was that getting Alistaire a little drunk might make it a little easier to stomach physical contact. I wasn't sure if it was work, he wasn't sure if it would work, but we were both willing to try it. I asked him to lean against me, and tell me what his favourite colour was: we were trying to get him to learn how to be close, as if that mental block was the real problem preventing him from connecting without wanting to throw up.

So I asked him for something that was personal, and for physical proximity. His favourite colour is green. I learned that on that night. We played a game meant for children.

I traded Alistaire pieces of my true self, secrets untold and the pain that I kept from the light of day. I did it because if he was supposed to learn to be open, then I had to offer pieces of myself in return. That's what I told myself then. I still don't know if it's true, or if I just wanted to finally tell someone all those secrets I had been keeping.

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"Give me a part of you that no one else has seen."
"I loved my mam more than life itself, an' she couldn't stand the sight of me. Didn't see her again till her funeral, and she still couldn't stand the sight of me."
"I can stand the sight of you, and you didn't kill her. You won't kill me either."
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