Walking all of the beer off was a great idea, and when I walked through my front door, I found myself in higher spirits than I had been for a good few months. Whatever he had done to me, he knew the magic words, and as I crawled into bed, my conscious mind felt lighter than it had in a long time, and I thought about how much I loved my father.

The first thing that we did in the morning was wipe the slate. The whiteboard was the first to go, and he arranged to have it moved to their house, for him to use. To track football, I’d imagine. Then, he got into my computer and wiped it, before reinstalling the essentials, so nothing would remind me of Aaron.

He’d put music on while doing it, and it surprised me how much I’d missed listening to it. There was something strangely soothing about listening to music while doing things that had to be done, and its sudden reappearence made it even more striking. How did I let myself descend into this? I was a musical child – and when reintroduced to music, I could feel my unconscious mind hum.

Cleaning the place took us damn near a whole day, and when we were done, he gifted me a number of books. “Read them,” he said. “You need a distraction. Here you go.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t think there’s much more to do, to be quite honest with you. But we can talk about dinner,” he said.

“I’ll be in touch,” I said.

“Good idea,” he said. “I’ll see myself out. Please be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, dad,” I said, and meant it. No lies to hide behind this time.

“See you,” he said, and left the apartment.

“Bye,” I said, and closed the door behind him. Breathing fully again, I spent Sunday doing nothing but reading, immersing myself into the fantasy worlds he had reacquainted me with.

Rejuvenated, I got back into work, and started working with purpose again, and my connections with my coworkers grew closer, as I wasn’t the distant shell of myself that I once was. I was a full, self-sufficient person once again, and I was intending to make good use of it. Aaron was gone. Just a memory.

Coming back from my vacation, which I’d spent bonding with my parents, I was presented with a pleasant surprise of a promotion. My friends were extremely happy to see it, and really wanted to take me out drinking in celebration. I was reluctant, knowing that I had another routine operation coming in a month, but agreed, because why not? I was alive now. That was the important bit.

Alcohol really was the ultimate tool to shut my unconscious brain up. Even in a full bar, where a sober version of myself would be rolling on the floor trying to filter the discord out, my mind wasn’t complaining one bit and happily soaked in its alcoholic bath, letting the conscious do its work. After hours of riffing off of each other, Claire pointed me in the direction of a really good looking lad.

“You need it more than we do,” she said. “He’s all yours.”

“I’m not just going to…” I said.

“What do you have to lose?” she said. “Come on. When was the last time you did it?”

I fell silent, partly because I didn’t understand her ambiguous question, and partly because I was ashamed at my lack of a love life in my prime.

“Can’t remember, can you? Go get him, cougar,” she said, and my legs didn’t wait for a response from the conscious, and started walking in his general direction.

We hit it off quite well, and one sentence after another, I grew to conclude that I really liked this man, and I really wanted a piece of him. Naturally, I took him home, and it felt amazing. But for all the skill and personality that he had, being with him somehow didn’t feel right. As I lay in my bed scratching his back, I realised what was missing. He wasn’t Aaron.

Still, I was well-behaved enough to give him a proper morning, and having sent him on his way and deleted his number, I again sat down at my desk and held my head in my hands, thoughts racing once again. I still needed Aaron.

I quickly drowned the thoughts in water, and dragged my hungover arse for a morning walk. The operation was coming soon. If I was ever going to make more contact with him, it would be the time to do so. No point in worrying about it.

The preparations began. Having doctors at my disposal felt like the most productive I could be given the entire situation. I talked to them about the extreme empathy I’d had for the last twelve months, but the EEG showed absolutely nothing, confusing them and not surprising me in the slightest.

Once again, I signed the waiver, and prepared myself for what was to come. The same procedure. The same that was repeated so many times that I could hum to myself while it was happening. Having had a final word with the surgeons, I concentrated on the music and felt the anaesthetic consume me.

“Hey, Jordan,” a presence said.

“Aaron?” I said. I couldn’t believe it. Was he really there? Would the year of searching really come to fruition?

“Yes, it’s me. Finally,” he said.

“How did you know?” I said. “Just a guess?”

“I don’t think anyone else hums while going under,” he said. “Only you.”

“Were you just as obsessed with me as I was with you?”

“I’d hazard a yes,” he said. “Jordan is a really rare name, and I still couldn’t pinpoint you.”

I felt him growing closer, as if our thoughts were in unison more and more. “It’s been so long,” I said.

“Yes, it has,” he said, and did the unconscious equivalent of pulling me in for a hug.

The music in my brain melted into every chord in existence. He was here. He was finally here, and I was with him, in this unconscious space our minds occupied. My Aaron. I’d never felt this before. Not this kind of connection. He was just like me. Broken. And we found each other, here, deep under conscious thought. It felt like love.

“So where can I finally find you?” I said, but he stayed silent.

“Aaron?” Still silence.

“Aaron?”

My worst fear had come true. I was alone.