Lost Memories: Part Two
By: Dibs
Hiya everybody. Now, seeing as this is the second part, do I really need to go through the torture of disclaimer? We all know that I do not own the guys, right? There. I've said it! (Runs away sobbing.)
By the way, I'm sorry the title is SO clichéd. I didn't realize how many stories were called this until I did a search. Sigh. I am so bad at titles. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd be happy to listen. I might even use it! Has to be better than mine.anyway, enjoy you're reading!
As in the previous part, thoughts are like this: //blah,// he thought. If anyone knows how to make italics work, please, PLEASE tell me! Thank you!
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His head was pounding. Not just pounding, it felt like Mt. Vesuvius was erupting in the middle of his skull. He rubbed a hand across his face, his tongue darting out to lick at dry, cracked lips.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Come to think of it, WHO was he? He wracked his mind, finally covering his ears with his hands as the pain in his head worsened. He fell back on the bed, pulling the sheet up to his chin, even though the air around him was hot and humid. Sweat made his skin sticky, and he shifted, feeling something lumpy along his back. He reached underneath him and pulled out a loose, frizzy chestnut braid. He gave a light tug and felt it all the way up to his scalp. He pushed sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes, looking around the room. He was on a small, cot-like twin bed, the top sheet twisted around his hips, revealing black silk boxers. The bed was in the center of a small, bare room. The walls were a creamy off-white, and the floor was made of worn, dark wooden boards. There was a small window to his left, lacy white curtains still. Carefully, he got up and looked out the open window. The air outside was thick enough to choke on. The house was on a quiet street, well-tended lawns in front of modest houses. Where the hell was he? He heard the door creak and whirled around to see a small blonde boy enter the room. He was in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, barefoot. His skin was pale, his bright blonde hair falling in his blue-green eyes. He smiled when he saw the boy standing at the window.
"Duo," he said, obviously relieved, "You're awake. Good."
//Duo?// the braided boy thought. He frowned. Why didn't he recognize that name? Why didn't he recognize this boy? He was obviously on good terms with him, for the boy to worry. The blonde frowned.
"Duo, are you okay?" he asked.
"I don't know," said the braided boy uncertainly. He was bruised, yes, and his head was pounding, and he could use a drink, but other than that, he had no idea. A confused, almost frightened look started to come over the blonde's face.
"Duo, do you remember what happed?" asked Quatre, feeling panic start to tighten his chest.
"I...don't know," said the braided boy. He tried to think back, to anything at all, but pain flared through his head. He clutched his head until the pain started to recede.
"I have to get out of here," he said suddenly.
"What?" Quatre said, "What do you mean?"
"Look, I dunno who you are, I don't even know who the hell I am, but I am leaving," said the braided boy. He advanced on the blonde slowly.
Quatre glanced behind him worriedly at the empty hallway. Duo had better hand-to-hand skills; there was no way he could keep the boy from leaving. He grunted as Duo's weight hit him square in the chest. His back hit the wall and his head followed. He stared at Duo through gray-spotted vision, struggling to keep conscious.
"I'm sorry about this," said the braided boy. He hadn't known he would throw the boy across the hall. He looked down at his hands. They were scarred and calloused. He frowned. What did he do for a living? He looked down and saw the blonde struggling to his feet. He looked around wildly and took off running down the hall.
Quatre watched dazedly as Duo ran down the hall. He stood up on shaky legs, using the wall for support. What on earth was wrong with Duo? He'd shown absolutely no sign of recognition. Amnesia? He shook his head to try and clear it, and took off as fast as he could down the hall after Duo.
The braided boy stopped as he saw stairs leading downwards to an entryway. He slid down the rail and slammed open the front door, running out along the front path. He sucked the muggy air into his lungs, his feet pounding the hot pavement. When the braided boy had run at least a block and a half, and hadn't heard any sounds of pursuit, he stopped. Gasping for air, he looked around.
Even through the haze in his mind, he realized that he was half-naked, disheveled, sweaty, and penniless. He froze as he heard water running. Following the sound, he carefully made his way past large, quiet houses until he came upon a stream. The stream wasn't huge, but it was good- sized, and shaded by large, leafy green trees. The boy approached carefully, looking around. He saw signs of other small creatures, and found that the water was cool and clear. He drank his fill and sat back on the shaded bank, carefully undoing the tie at the end of his braid. He brushed his hair as best he could with his fingers, and redid the braid as neat as possible. Wading into the stream, he shivered happily as the cool water crept up his thighs, and he splashed some up into his face. That blonde boy-who was he?-had seemed to know the house. He must own it. The braided boy decided to go back in a few hours, to see if he had any belongings. He looked out at the street, and saw heat waves rising off the pavement. He made a face and decided to wait until dark, when it would be cooler and easier to get around. He sank down into the cool water, and winced at a stinging sensation along his left forearm and just above his left temple. The braided boy carefully undid the now water-soaked bandages to find long, bloody scrapes along his forearm. He stared at them doubtfully, wondering how on earth he had gotten such an injury. Remembering the stinging at his temple, he reached up and found more bandages.
"Um, okay," he said out loud. He decided to leave both bandages on, not knowing how much damage had been caused. He continued swimming, trying to ignore the stinging in his arm and temple. After about twenty minutes he hauled himself up onto a large, partly shaded flat rock and waited to dry off. In the warm sun he struggled to keep his eyes open, and yawned. The golden light filtered down through the leaves, creating a dappled pattern over his skin.
To Be Continued!!!!!!
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Yes! I am typing part three as we speak! Er, read, whatever. I hope nobody was too confused. Hope you all liked it and hope you will all stick with me on this! School is starting in two short weeks, and I am so regretting not getting on ff.n months ago. Anyway, stick around for part three! Yeah!
By: Dibs
Hiya everybody. Now, seeing as this is the second part, do I really need to go through the torture of disclaimer? We all know that I do not own the guys, right? There. I've said it! (Runs away sobbing.)
By the way, I'm sorry the title is SO clichéd. I didn't realize how many stories were called this until I did a search. Sigh. I am so bad at titles. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd be happy to listen. I might even use it! Has to be better than mine.anyway, enjoy you're reading!
As in the previous part, thoughts are like this: //blah,// he thought. If anyone knows how to make italics work, please, PLEASE tell me! Thank you!
----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------
His head was pounding. Not just pounding, it felt like Mt. Vesuvius was erupting in the middle of his skull. He rubbed a hand across his face, his tongue darting out to lick at dry, cracked lips.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. Come to think of it, WHO was he? He wracked his mind, finally covering his ears with his hands as the pain in his head worsened. He fell back on the bed, pulling the sheet up to his chin, even though the air around him was hot and humid. Sweat made his skin sticky, and he shifted, feeling something lumpy along his back. He reached underneath him and pulled out a loose, frizzy chestnut braid. He gave a light tug and felt it all the way up to his scalp. He pushed sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes, looking around the room. He was on a small, cot-like twin bed, the top sheet twisted around his hips, revealing black silk boxers. The bed was in the center of a small, bare room. The walls were a creamy off-white, and the floor was made of worn, dark wooden boards. There was a small window to his left, lacy white curtains still. Carefully, he got up and looked out the open window. The air outside was thick enough to choke on. The house was on a quiet street, well-tended lawns in front of modest houses. Where the hell was he? He heard the door creak and whirled around to see a small blonde boy enter the room. He was in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts, barefoot. His skin was pale, his bright blonde hair falling in his blue-green eyes. He smiled when he saw the boy standing at the window.
"Duo," he said, obviously relieved, "You're awake. Good."
//Duo?// the braided boy thought. He frowned. Why didn't he recognize that name? Why didn't he recognize this boy? He was obviously on good terms with him, for the boy to worry. The blonde frowned.
"Duo, are you okay?" he asked.
"I don't know," said the braided boy uncertainly. He was bruised, yes, and his head was pounding, and he could use a drink, but other than that, he had no idea. A confused, almost frightened look started to come over the blonde's face.
"Duo, do you remember what happed?" asked Quatre, feeling panic start to tighten his chest.
"I...don't know," said the braided boy. He tried to think back, to anything at all, but pain flared through his head. He clutched his head until the pain started to recede.
"I have to get out of here," he said suddenly.
"What?" Quatre said, "What do you mean?"
"Look, I dunno who you are, I don't even know who the hell I am, but I am leaving," said the braided boy. He advanced on the blonde slowly.
Quatre glanced behind him worriedly at the empty hallway. Duo had better hand-to-hand skills; there was no way he could keep the boy from leaving. He grunted as Duo's weight hit him square in the chest. His back hit the wall and his head followed. He stared at Duo through gray-spotted vision, struggling to keep conscious.
"I'm sorry about this," said the braided boy. He hadn't known he would throw the boy across the hall. He looked down at his hands. They were scarred and calloused. He frowned. What did he do for a living? He looked down and saw the blonde struggling to his feet. He looked around wildly and took off running down the hall.
Quatre watched dazedly as Duo ran down the hall. He stood up on shaky legs, using the wall for support. What on earth was wrong with Duo? He'd shown absolutely no sign of recognition. Amnesia? He shook his head to try and clear it, and took off as fast as he could down the hall after Duo.
The braided boy stopped as he saw stairs leading downwards to an entryway. He slid down the rail and slammed open the front door, running out along the front path. He sucked the muggy air into his lungs, his feet pounding the hot pavement. When the braided boy had run at least a block and a half, and hadn't heard any sounds of pursuit, he stopped. Gasping for air, he looked around.
Even through the haze in his mind, he realized that he was half-naked, disheveled, sweaty, and penniless. He froze as he heard water running. Following the sound, he carefully made his way past large, quiet houses until he came upon a stream. The stream wasn't huge, but it was good- sized, and shaded by large, leafy green trees. The boy approached carefully, looking around. He saw signs of other small creatures, and found that the water was cool and clear. He drank his fill and sat back on the shaded bank, carefully undoing the tie at the end of his braid. He brushed his hair as best he could with his fingers, and redid the braid as neat as possible. Wading into the stream, he shivered happily as the cool water crept up his thighs, and he splashed some up into his face. That blonde boy-who was he?-had seemed to know the house. He must own it. The braided boy decided to go back in a few hours, to see if he had any belongings. He looked out at the street, and saw heat waves rising off the pavement. He made a face and decided to wait until dark, when it would be cooler and easier to get around. He sank down into the cool water, and winced at a stinging sensation along his left forearm and just above his left temple. The braided boy carefully undid the now water-soaked bandages to find long, bloody scrapes along his forearm. He stared at them doubtfully, wondering how on earth he had gotten such an injury. Remembering the stinging at his temple, he reached up and found more bandages.
"Um, okay," he said out loud. He decided to leave both bandages on, not knowing how much damage had been caused. He continued swimming, trying to ignore the stinging in his arm and temple. After about twenty minutes he hauled himself up onto a large, partly shaded flat rock and waited to dry off. In the warm sun he struggled to keep his eyes open, and yawned. The golden light filtered down through the leaves, creating a dappled pattern over his skin.
To Be Continued!!!!!!
----------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------
Yes! I am typing part three as we speak! Er, read, whatever. I hope nobody was too confused. Hope you all liked it and hope you will all stick with me on this! School is starting in two short weeks, and I am so regretting not getting on ff.n months ago. Anyway, stick around for part three! Yeah!
