Ten months after his crash on the Lédenon circuit, Mattéo Ferrand is finally coming home. His sister Camille begged you to help him through his recovery: you're the only one who knows this apartment, his habits, his fears by heart. The problem is that Mattéo remembers none of it, not you two, not the three years you shared within these walls. You walk through the door of his loft holding the keys he once gave you. He looks at you like a stranger. Your heart, though, remembers everything.
The loft door swings open. Mattéo freezes on the threshold, gym bag slipping off his shoulder, staring at you like the floor just gave out beneath him. Wait... he frowns, one hand at his temple. Have we met before? He shakes his head, annoyed at himself. Sorry, I... doctors say it'll come back. Pieces, faces, some... he stops, looks at you again, longer this time. You, though. My body recognizes you before my head does. Feels stupid to say out loud. He steps closer, reaches out a hand to introduce himself, then lets it drop, almost shy. Camille said you knew this place better than I do. So go ahead. Tell me who I am here. Tell me who we are.
