Walking. Walking. Walking.
Walking where? Walking from? These questions started to occur to the teenage boy walking. Then more started popping to mind. Who was he, why was he walking, and why were his hands wet? There seemed to be an answer for only one question as he looked down to his hands, seeing something dripping off. Paint, perhaps? But no, it didn't feel like paint, and why would he have red paint on his hands anyway?
Blood, then. But who's blood? Surely not his, he didn't feel any pain. But it was over his sweater, which had been red to begin with. But blood was much darker than his sweater, so very much darker. He took it off, not wanting to be covered in someone's blood. Something poked him as he did so, so now there was his blood as well. Wiping his hands off on the sweater, the boy tried to get them clean.
Finding a puddle, the boy used that to wash off instead. It worked better, much better. He dropped the sweater behind a dumpster, careful to not get any blood on it. So, why was he covered in blood? And who was he, to be covered in blood and walking the streets with no memories? He was walking somewhere, that was certain. Soon, the boy found himself in a street, with other people. It was good he had hidden his sweater and washed off the blood. He knew that would be bad, but why? Just what had happened for him to become that way?
His feet carried him to a large building. It was a school, that was sure. Still not understanding, the boy walked inside and went to the desk.
"Hello Alfred! Why are you so late today?" The cheerful lady asked, smiling at the boy. No, not boy. He was Alfred. Alfred? No, he wasn't Alfred. Alfred was just his name.
"S-sorry." The lady seemed to be looking at him oddly. Did he not get all of the blood? Was there some on his face? But no, she was smiling again and looking at her computer.
She looked back up and pointed down the hall. "You better get to Science. Mr. Howard won't be too happy with you." She laughed, sitting back into her chair. Didn't he usually show up with someone else? She let it go, urging Alfred to go to class.
Following the direction, the boy -Alfred- was glad to see the rooms had the names of the teachers on them. He found Mr. Howard and slipped quietly inside, not wanting to disrupt the class. No one seemed to notice he had no memory.
After class, Alfred went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Sky blue eyes, covered by glasses. He had a strange thing with his hair, coming out of the top. Trying to push it down, Alfred decided to just let it be with the rest of his shoulder-length, wavy hair.
Leaving the bathroom, he was latched onto by a few girls that were grinning. "Hey Al, what's new? Should we walk to class together?" This kept happening for the rest of the day, so Alfred figured he was popular. Maybe his personality changed when he lost his memories, but these girls didn't seem to notice.
When school ended, Alfred started wondering how he would get home without knowing where he lived. He did have a home, didn't he? That would only make sense. After all, he seemed to be well clothed and well fed.
Just then, another girl -Chell, she had told him earlier- latched onto his arm. "Shall I walk you home? Since we live so close together." Her brown hair bounced as she laughed. Alfred was eager to agree, so he would be able to go home after all. Then perhaps his parents would realize something was wrong with him and tell him what happened.
They started walking, Chell talking about her hair and shoes, and fish strangely. She seemed oddly fond of fish for some reason. Alfred mainly kept quiet, not wanting to say something that would make her start asking questions that he couldn't answer.
Finally, she stopped at a house and smiled. "It's kind of funny how you're the guy, yet I drop you off." She laughed, tossing one of her ponytails behind her shoulder. Then suddenly, she grabbed Alfred's hand, forcing him to look at her. "Al... the date we went on last week... do you see that going anywhere? You were really sweet, and I want to go out again."
Blinking, Alfred let his hand be held. "We went on a date?"
The look of joy on the girl's face turned to rage. She dropped his hand and slapped him across the face. "How dare you!" Then she stormed off further down the street, her back straight and her legs pumping fast to get away from him.
Alfred stood there for a few more seconds, before turning and going inside. He found a key in his pocket and hoped it was for the front door. He put it in, and it worked. Well, obviously this was his house then.
Walking in, he found the house was fairly normal. But he startled when he saw an older man sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. He looked up and gave a small smile. "Hello, Alfred. How was school?" He quickly went back to reading, not actually wanting to hear the response. He was always less than average when it came to schoolwork.
Quickly mumbling a "Good", Alfred looked around for a clue of his life. Obviously, his father -or so he assumed- didn't notice he was acting strange. Or if he had, he didn't look like he did. On the fridge were a few ribbons from various sports. So he was into sports.
Standing up, the man lightly grabbed his hand. "What, was there a report card or something?" But now that he got a closer look... "Oh, sorry, are you Matthew? I'm sorry, I always get you mixed up with your brother..."
"No, I'm Alfred." That was what everyone was calling him, anyways. But who was this Matthew? "Um... could you tell me if anything... strange happened this morning?"
Looking confused, the man shrugged his shoulders. "Well, besides you and your brother getting into a fight, there is nothing I can think of." It had been strange, because usually Matthew never spoke up to anyone. But he had seemed really angry for some reason. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. Thank you." Alfred went deeper into the house, hoping it wouldn't be strange for him to wander around until he found his room. Luckily it didn't take him long, because the house was fairly small. He found one door that had, in small letters, the name Matthew on it. The next room had in bold blue letters the name Alfred. Opening it, he found that he was fairly patriotic, the American flag covering his room. He even had a cover on his lap top with the stars and stripes on it.
Going over to the bed, Alfred felt the sheets. They were nice and soft, and again were coloured red white and blue. Did he really love his country that much? It was strange, not being able to remember what he was like before this morning.
.oOo.
The next day after school, Alfred asked someone where the local hospital was. He had still not seen this 'Matthew' so was starting to wonder if perhaps it was his blood that had been covering him. In the morning, he had told his father -Arthur was apparently his name- that he would be late. Arthur had been surprised he had said anything, and then asked him to give a book to Matthew.
Did he not realize that Matthew wasn't there anymore? Alfred had looked at the book, and it seemed really interesting. He was thinking of reading it.
Getting to the hospital, Alfred went up to the front desk. "Excuse me, do you have a Matthew Kirkland here?" He had learnt his last name at school, and assumed his brother would have the same last name.
The nurse smiled and looked it up on her computer, before looking back up with a small frown on her face. "Sorry, there is no one here by that name. Would he be under a different name, perhaps? He could have changed his name."
Shaking his head, Alfred thought for a moment. "How about in the morgue? Anyone there?"
Typing it in, the nurse came up blank again. "We have some Jon Does... Is this a missing person?" This boy looked so young, it was sad he had to ask for someone, to see if they were dead. She hadn't been expecting something like this.
"Yes." Alfred said simply. "Can I go see the Jon Does?" He would probably be able to recognize him, even if he didn't remember him. After all, Arthur had said he usually got them confused, so obviously they must look alike. Perhaps they were twins.
Nodding, the nurse stood up from her chair. "I can take you there. Marcy, cover for me, will you?" She stood up straight, trying to help the strain on her back from being in a chair so long, with such large breasts. It also didn't help that men continued to look at her so much.
They started walking to the morgue, a place she never liked going. "How long has Matthew been missing? Have you reported it yet?" The police should have done all this, not leaving it to a teenage boy.
"He disappeared yesterday." At least that is what he figured, since their father had mentioned them arguing in the morning. As for the reporting thing, how could he do that when no one seemed to know he was missing?
Going into the dull room, the nurse looked for the Jon Does. "Now, are you sure you want to do this? What if these really are your Matthew?" It was usually pretty traumatic for people to see dead bodies, weather they knew them or not.
Alfred nodded. He had to do this, for Matthew. He didn't remember who he was, but they were blood. And it was possibly his blood that had been on him. That would at least explain his lack in memories. After a shock like that, it wasn't unlikely he would lose them.
The large-breasted nurse slowly opened the door on one Jon Doe, pulling him out. She only pulled him out to the head, not wanting the boy to have to see more. "Is this him?"
Shaking his head, Alfred watched as she slid the brunette back. They went on to the next one. And the next. None of them looked even slightly like him.
"Sorry. I wish I could have helped you find Matthew." Then she paused, putting her hand on her chin. "Although... we do have another Jon Doe who is recovering, upstairs..." This was the last thing she could offer him.
Hope rising, Alfred nodded. He was a Jon Doe but was still alive. That must mean they had both lost their memory! It must be him! They went upstairs, and the nurse took him to the room. Looking inside, all Alfred could see on the bed was someone covered with a blanket, with many wires and tubes going everywhere. Going closer, he saw short, blond hair sticking out of the blankets, as well as a strong looking arm which had an IV in it.
Running the rest of the way, he yelled out, "Alfred!" As soon as he had seen the face of the unconscious man, all the memories had come flooding back. Well, not all of them. He still couldn't remember the whole morning of yesterday. He wasn't Alfred, he was Matthew, and this was his brother.
The nurse went into the room as well. "I thought his name was Matthew?"
Simply shaking his head, Matthew continued holding Alfred's hand. He wouldn't wake up, he wasn't waking up! Maybe that was the reason he was a Jon Doe. He had been unconscious since he had been brought there. "What happened to him?"
Scanning the clip board on the end of his bed, the nurse looked back up. "He was stabbed in the stomach. Apparently it was in an alley, and he managed to crawl out before collapsing." She had over heard it from the nurse that had been helping when he got here. She also said he was so cute, when he wasn't covered in blood.
Nodding grimly, Matthew wouldn't let his hand go. He must have witnessed the stabbing, and tried to help him. That was why he was covered in blood. "Can... can I stay here with him?"
"Yes of course." The nurse said, and left them alone. They looked so similar, they must be related. It was remarkable the similarity, actually. She even thought the Jon Doe... or Alfred, had come in with glasses similar to the boy's.
Matthew stayed there, talking to Alfred's unresponsive body. He looked so weak, so pale, from his normal self. He usually outshone his brother in everything, so why was it that the oldest was in the hospital bed?
It started getting dark, so he knew he had to go home. But he would come back tomorrow, to see him again. Maybe the extra day would help Alfred recover enough to wake up.
.oOo.
He had planned to tell Father what was going on. But when he got home, and the man smiled so happily at him, still thinking he was Alfred, he couldn't bring himself to. Being his brother for a while had shown Matthew what his life could have been like if he wasn't invisible.
And Father hadn't even asked about 'Matthew'.
So he found himself alone, heading to the large hospital. As soon as he went through the front doors, the large-breasted nurse from before saw him and gave a large smile. "Alfred just woke up! He seems to be alright! You can go up and see him if you want!"
Running up the stairs, Matthew got to Alfred's room quickly. He burst in the door, smiling. There were a few doctors around him, checking vitals and such. But he could see a body sitting up in the bed. "Al!"
The doctors looked at him and parted, so they could see each other. Alfred was already looking better, he really was. But... why was he frowning? "Al?"
"Get out." The words spoken, so cold, pierced Matthew's heart. Alfred was still glaring at him from the bed, like he was a monster, a betrayer, a murderer.
Turning around, Matthew ran faster than he had going up. Tears started to form, making everything blurry. He wasn't sure where he was going, but soon he was forced to slow to a walk. Walking, just like that morning. That morning, when they had fought. That morning, when Alfred was stabbed. That morning, when Matthew forgot...
He knew where he was. He was tracing the same steps he had taken when he started to remember things. Soon he should see... yes, the dumpster he hid the sweater behind. Going over, Matthew saw a flash of red. He pulled it out, looking at the blood stain. There was something here, something he was missing. He turned it around and heard something fall to the ground.
Looking, Matthew's blood ran cold. He remembered, taking the sweater off, something had poked him. He remembered that they hadn't had an argument that big for a few years. He remembered how mad he had been that Alfred was always the only one people thought of. And, Matthew Kirkland remembered the look on his brothers face as he had stabbed him with the knife that was now on the ground.