Chapter Text
Stupid forgetful Michael. Actually, Gob thought, more like stupid, nosy Michael. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like the day before, the cinco de cuatro, when he had been in the model home just in time to see Tony and Gob in what had to have been the most confusing aftermath of Gob’s entire life. There had been confusing moments previously, but those had always slipped away - why did his bees get sick? He’d tried to take care of them. Why did Lindsay somehow appear attractive once he found out that they weren’t actually related? Must have been something to do with that new nose. Why did that writing on his mirror refer to him as Joe Withabee? He didn’t remember giving a fake name. And, why did that song that Mark Cherry had written about him say “You’re hopelessly hopeless”? That line didn’t sound quite as complimentary as the upbeat nature of the song seemed to indicate.
After thinking through all those confusing moments, Gob was temporarily confused about what he was even confused about. Perhaps the forget-me-nows that he had been taking for so long had permanently addled his ability to remember but, no, he was sure it wasn’t gone forever. Stupid forgetful Michael, making him give away his last forget-me-now to save face, leaving him with this memory, that was giving him both pleasure and pain. As he’d said to his younger brother, without actually admitting it was about him, all he’d ended up doing was proving his feelings were real… that his feelings were the….SAME. Shoot. There it was. The memory was back - Tony Wonder. Him and Tony Wonder. And he’d liked it.
He was ashamed of it. He liked it. But he was so ashamed. Tony had liked it too though, at least he thought he had - the pleasurable sounds he’d made reminded him of his more successful sex partners - those which were so self-deprecating, with no self-respect, willing to try anything, really - rather than those who just lay there, like….what was her name again? He knew he’d have ann awful time trying to remember that, so he gave up. As Gob raised himself up from his bed, he muttered many words to himself - normal sex. homo much? same! …Tony. The one thing Gob did not mutter, however, was his usual thoughtful exclamation of regret. This time, for the first time in his life, he was not sure that he’d made a huge mistake. Sure, he’d acted in revenge. Sure Tony supposedly wasn’t even gay. But a person can only act so much, and from what he remembered from that previous night in the bedroom (which, for Gob, was an outstanding amount), there’s no way Tony could have been acting completely. After all, Gob had planned to act, but when in the moment, he felt as though he didn’t have to.
Entering the bathroom, Gob glanced at the mirror, the red letters from months before having faded almost completely. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes seemed different than the eyes he had looked at before - usually his eyes were lacking emotion, minus the desire for acceptance from his younger brother (although not his youngest brother, because Buster really couldn’t do much for him), but he could usually brush that back most of the time. No this time, his eyes held something different - a wealth of something he’d never seen before. He wondered if it was something to do with how he had now caressed the chest of a man, felt his rustic beard against his face and neck, glanced upon the genitals of a person who shared his own form. Something about the experience had changed him. Everything was different about him now - from the morning stubble, having grown on his cheeks, to the way he would now approach his balding overweight son. He was a changed man - and all because he remembered.
As Gob began to shave away the roughness off his face, his phone rang, and he heard the familiar voice, which lit him up with both excitement, fear, and that pesky confusion.
“Hey Gobby - It’s Tony! You still on for our sex date tonight?”
Gob froze. Yes, everything had changed because he remembered, but in Tony forgetting, everything had just changed again.