Hello! From another burst of thoughts, I now present you another story entitled Writing Pages! It's about a guy who ran away from home and lost his memories. In attempt to recover his memories, he might need to go through the life he ran away from with a new identity and new companion and through all the lies everyone makes just to get him back. AU, OOC, and minimal use of characters.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia and anything with copyright. I own the plot and the dialogues. No story in is used as a reference.
Warnings: Soft homoerotica, violence, and some crap normal people won't do.
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Writing Pages
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Summary: Last thing I remember was running along the alleys; the next, I was in the hospital with someone who claimed to have run me over. With no identification on me, we decided to find out who I was to satisfy his own sense of responsibility. However, there were times I wished I never went back to know who I was.
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Writing Pages
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The last thing he remembered was that he was running. He was running along the darkest alleys and strangest paths towards a destination he didn't remember. He seemed to be running away from something causing all the fear and pain that he remembered having. He knew he was scared. He knew he was furious. He knew he was broken into multiple pieces.
It didn't also seem planned at all. All he had with him was some dollars and change for a road trip. He didn't have a phone, a wallet, an ID. He didn't have anything much- like he wanted no one to know where he is, where he will go, and where he will end up at after running.
He sat quietly on the hospital bed, wondering what he should do now. He didn't know himself who he was and where he had to be. Everything was scary and confusing; he just sat there like he was at the end of everything. Nothing in the room could make him move on with his life; he didn't even know if he will be let out of the hospital with all the tubes and bandages on him.
He was awake for two hours now, but he couldn't remember what the nurse gave him to eat minutes ago. He was not even sure which nurse did come in to give him food earlier. He was just so lost; he did not know how to pick his life back and be where he should.
The door creaked softly as someone came in his room. He had this corn-colored hair with a cowlick that seemed to be permanent in his hairdo. He had eyes of blue like a reflection of the sea, and skin tanned by the weak sun. His clothes, along with his glasses, matched those of an employee with a high-paying job except that he was too young for jobs like that.
"H-Hi! I heard you were awake. Do you mind if I come closer?"
His voice was trying to be friendly- enough for him not to shoo away a stranger. He was also raising his basket of apples as if offering him some. The patient did not make any sound in return, making it a cue for the newcomer to go and sit down next to the patient.
"Hello, my name is Alfred, and I, well, I kinda run over you with my car when you suddenly popped out of nowhere last night. You got this head trauma, and they said you need days more to recover. I promised to pay for all of these, but I was wondering if you can tell me your name. You don't have an ID so no one knew what it is."
"My name? I'm sorry. I couldn't remember."
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Writing Pages
Rei Haruno -Sakura no Imooto
Chapter 1: What's My Name?
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Needless to say, Alfred was frozen by the patient's answer. It seemed he didn't just incurred physical injuries to this man; he even caused him amnesia. He didn't actually know what to do so he just laid the basket down and put the butter plate, small fork and paring knife he was permitted to bring into the room. He just chuckled as he started to peel an apple.
"R-Really? That's not cool. Anyway, do you remember anything about yourself?"
The patient just shook his head and eyed at him in forced resilience. He didn't like the fact he lost everything aside from his physical life, but there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way to recover his memories right away. He didn't even know how to attract the attention of those who knew him- and those who pretend they know him. He could be anyone- be it a most wanted killer or a very rich dude. In either case, it would be hard for him.
"I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to crash my car into you- I mean you just appeared out of nowhere, and I didn't have the time to stop my car! Anyway, I will help you find them. Well, if you wanted me to."
"Why go through such trouble? You don't even know me."
"Well, I live a very plain life. Work for some hours, play games for another bit, and sleep for the rest. Don't get me wrong; I eat meals when I want to. Helping you find memories makes me feel more- well, more than I just am. Besides, I gave you amnesia. You're my responsibility now."
The patient looked away once, and then he turned to Alfred, "What if I'm someone wanted by some people? You might get hurt or killed."
"Well, I won't. I'll be very careful. In fact, extra careful. Right! I'll do that."
"I don't think you really pay attention to what I mean. Anyway, I think I have no other reason not to say yes to your offer. Please help me recover my memories."
"Sweet!" Alfred cheered, but then he controlled himself. He put down the knife and the apple to take a thick, small notebook on top of the basket and a pen from his jacket.
"Here, take these. The nurse told me that you have some problems remembering things that lapsed for fifteen minutes. She said writing things down will help you remember them every time. I just thought you will need those for sure. Just think of it like you're writing an hourly diary- or on a policeman's notebook."
The patient received the notebook and the pen. He looked at the kind person for a while before smiling, "Thank you, good sir."
"Ah, no need to thank me. Yeah, you'll need a nick name for now. I was thinking of Iggy- just crossed my mind- is it alright?"
"That sounds a bit uncomfortable. You should choose something less stupid."
"Then Iggy, it is."
Alfred didn't seem to care how it sounded; that was what Iggy thought. He knew Alfred was kind enough to take responsibility for the amnesia he caused, but there were still things that seemed spiteful about the corn-blond. He seemed to be self-centered and a bit obnoxious from the very short conversation they had, minus the sympathy Alfred was giving him. However, he could not complain. At least, someone wanted to help him.
The corn-blond finished peeling the apple, and he divided it into pieces. Iggy was watching him do so, only to be surprised when Alfred gave him the plate with the fork. The other was wearing such an insistent smile. Iggy took the plate and ate the apple pieces slowly, eyes locked on the corn-blond.
"Tasty, aren't they? Tell me you liked it."
"They're good."
"Aw. Anyway, I have to run for work. I'll see you again later, okay? I'll call a nurse to peel some more for you. But before that-!"
He then sat on the bed next to Iggy and snapped a photo of the two of them. He then showed the photo to the patient, "We look great, don't we?"
"We look like idiots." Iggy muttered as he stared at the photo.
Aside from not remembering his name, he didn't have an idea about his appearance. He didn't remember what he sees every time he looked at a mirror. But right then, there was a photo of him. He stared at his golden locks, eyes of emerald green, and skin of Caucasian white. One of the most distinct features he had was his thick eyebrows, his own face earning a frown from him. More after inspecting the bandages and patches around his head.
"At any rate, I have to leave. See ya, Iggy."
Seconds passed after Alfred walked out of the room. It became deafeningly silent and suffocating. Iggy then stared at the notebook on his lap and at the empty plate on the nightstand. He hated the feeling of being alone without memories to think about. Somehow, he wished Alfred would come back soon.
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Writing Pages
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The notebook was given to him for almost ten hours ago, and it was already filled with notes that he made. The first page was filled with questions he had for himself. Why was he running away without anything but money? Who is he? What was he running away from? Could someone recognize him now?
The second page, which was vacated before accomplishing the third page, was about the specifications of his condition. He had amnesia, but he could remember making words and what they mean well. He could tell things apart. However, he couldn't remember people and other special events which could define his identity prior to the accident. Also, it was noted there what the nurses told him about his hospital stay and therapy schedule.
The third and fourth pages were about Alfred and the things he learned about this man. It was written there his observation about him, as well as his promises to him. However, there were also questions about the corn-blond. The fourth page held a portrait Iggy was working on. With a few more strokes of his pen, he would have a cartoony portrait of Alfred.
Finishing the portrait, Iggy smiled to himself, very satisfied with what he drew. He didn't know he could, but he really wanted to remember Alfred's face clearly. It was one that he didn't forget after fifteen minutes, or maybe it was because he was thinking about him. For now, he was the only person Iggy knew.
The clock ticked five in the afternoon, and Iggy was getting impatient. What was taking Alfred so long? Did he forget about him already, but he promised to help him? His hand gripped on the pen tightly, angrily frowning at the clock. He whispered, "Where is he?"
Thirty minutes passed, and Iggy was still waiting for Alfred to come back. This time, he was working on the fifth page. He was drawing another face which came into his mind. He couldn't draw the person nicely since he couldn't really remember the face clearly. Soon, he gave up and stared at the ticking clock.
Ten minutes before eight, Iggy was only waiting for his dinner and medication to come. The notebook was flapped open on his lap, filled with unfinished portraits and landscapes. He was trying to remember things he could salvage from his broken mind. It was not easy, now that he accepted that he had to do it alone- until the door opened.
"I'm really sorry I couldn't get everything through the hospital fast!"
It was Alfred, with a load of food in that basket he had with him. Also, he had this bulky bag which might also contain all sorts of food if that was Alfred's motif of the day. He then put the basket and the bag down on the floor before sitting at the chair next to the bed. He then sighed and picked some things from the basket.
"I had to go home and take reasonable amount of the food for two. They wouldn't let me bring a whole box of pizza and bottles of jellies! Can you believe that!?"
He was chuckling at his petty complaints while opening the food boxes that he had with him before Iggy. He then smiled at him after raising a slice of cake to Iggy's face.
"You must have a favorite food, Iggy. I just thought bringing you all sorts might help you remember."
"This took you long?" Iggy chuckled as he received the cake. The cake looked tasty, but he didn't feel anything like it was his favorite. It wouldn't hurt if he would eat a slice or two; he wasn't barred from eating anything in particular anyway.
Alfred watched him eat with a satisfied grin. Then, he noticed that the notebook was flipped to a page. He took it without Iggy knowing, only to browse through the pages of unfinished portraits. Those were faces of both men and women, but none of them had enough facial details for them to be identified. Soon, he flipped the pages to the ones in the front.
He was awed and flattered. He just had someone drew him in such a cartoonish way, and he thought it was very adorable. He then took his phone out and snapped a photo, earning Iggy's attention by then.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at your progress." Alfred laughed as he looked at the first unfinished portrait, "This person seemed to be important because you remembered him first. You should try to remember him more so we could start looking for him. Your therapy seems to be working well; look at all these drawings!"
"It does, but it will take a while before I start remembering more. It would also cost you more."
"Don't worry, I'm making the company pay for your hospitalization. I convinced them that it was their fault why I rammed into you that night." Alfred chuckled as he carefully inspected each portrait, "They insisted on making me answer a video call while I was driving."
"What do you do for a living, Alfred?"
Alfred hummed before looking at Iggy's curious face. The bespectacled man then smiled at him, "I'm a stunt model for a gaming company. I do stunts and some other actions for games that had male teenage heroes. I'm well-paid, considering all I have to do in the studio and for the games. Man, I'm like an action star!"
It was reasonable. How confident he was about fending off people and paying for hospital bills was completely reasonable for Iggy. Instead of asking for more things about him, the patient just continued eating food that Alfred brought. He was envy. Alfred had his life defined easily, while he couldn't even remember his own name.
Even when his eyes began to be filled with envy and anger, Iggy managed to see things before him. His peripheral vision caught Alfred take a food from the pile he had with him. His face lifted in curiosity as Alfred unwrap a hamburger. He was about to take a bite when he noticed Iggy staring at him.
"Would you like a hamburger? I can- well, I can share it with you if you like."
He recalled his biting stance and tore the burger into two carefully so the filling wouldn't gush out. He reached out to Iggy with a smile, breaking into chuckling as Iggy just took a bite. The patient didn't bother to take the half; he just bit it while it was still on his hand. However, he started holding Alfred's wrist as he took more bites, causing some mayo, ketchup and beef juice to spill on Alfred's hand.
The corn-blond whimpered about it, but his expression changed into embarrassment with what Iggy did after finishing the burger. Iggy started licking Alfred's fingers and some parts of his palm to clean the spill from it. Alfred began to blush as he felt hot moisture coat his skin along with a hot breath from someone who was a bit blushing as well. He could have pulled his hand back, but he was curious why Iggy would do something lewd.
The patient stopped when the spill was cleared, but his eyes found a way to avert Alfred's direct gaze. He then straightened and spoke, "I-I'm sorry. I just-"
"I thought that only happens in adult games."
"You star in adult games?" Iggy shot his gaze towards the teenager.
"Not really. I just voice them. Anyway, what was that about?" Alfred only chuckled nervously as he brought the other half down and fished for his handkerchief to wipe his hand.
Iggy twitched and then looked away again, "Well, I just- I just remember doing that. I don't know how frequent and to whom, but I felt like I had done it before."
"You remember weird stuff; it's scary." The teenager jokingly chuckled as he cleaned his hand, "Anyway, you should try other food so we could find things that you like from what you don't. Then, we'll raid places where you buy food- if we're lucky, we might bump into some sort of acquaintance. Sounds good?"
"How do you think of things like that?"
"I'm in the game industry. I'm exposed to all sorts of weird shit people can do in games. It's now time for me to put those weird shit people do in games to a test. You with me?"
"I'm not actually sure, but it felt like you're treating my problem like a game plot."
"That's just the fastest way to make you remember. We should treat this as a quest; I'm the hero, and you're my companion I need to save. This will be more fun than you think!"
Instead of being bothered by his childishness, Iggy only smiled at Alfred. It could be a way to make things better- to turn his amnesia into something he could enjoy. He didn't complain about Alfred being the hero as well, but he would be concerned about what it could lead to.
Treating this could turn it into an adventure and a very wonderful story. However, presences of heroes equated to presences of villains. His smile turned bitter upon realizing someone out there could prevent him from unlocking the 'life' that he lost. This someone could be anyone in that past he had- one of the faces drawn in his memory notebook.
It was a past which made him run away. It could be a past which seemed to be worth not remembering at all. Certainly, it was a past he had already forgotten and needed back to so he could remember what it was like living as 'him'. Soon, he will be writing pages about the life unraveling before him and Alfred.
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End of Chapter 1
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Thanks for reading! Please review! My anon review is on!