He was a given a wish. One wish. Simple, right? Most would think he'd wish for something selfish, even the people who knew him close thought this. It would be normal for his personality and nature.

But, no. He wishes for something else. He said this: "I don't want to be able to hurt anyone anymore, so...my wish, is to be wiped from existence in exchange for all the lives I've taken away to be revived."

His life was pulled into a void full of nothingness and loneliness. And just as he wanted, everyone had come back.

Charles, Margaret, the kids...they were all back. But it came for a price as well. Everyone, anyone who even had a small moment with the purple man, their memory had been wiped of what they knew about him. Like he never existed in their lives.

Though, somehow, one man, that very man that loved to hug and everyone knew as a nice man, had all the memories of every single time he was with Richard stuck in his mind. But he couldn't remember his name; like it was the purple man was a mystery.

All Charles could do was think about it, try to find a certain bald man that had a dark past. Anyone that even resembled Richard in anyway would bring him back to a land of memories as well. Slowly, but surely, he was recovering each memory one by one.

It was hell; not knowing this man's name but had spent most of his life with him.

Sometimes he questions why he's even looking, he was disgusted by the purple man and what he has done, not wanting to come to the point where he would have to introduce himself to the selfish person.

Charles was working by his bedstand one night, doing some taxes for his household when he heard the door open slightly. He turns his head.

"Hey.." The red lady whispered, rubbing her eyes. Her body worn an oversized shirt that Charles let her borrow. Why she was in his house was for the obvious reasons, ever since her reviving, she didn't have a home and not enough money to live on her own.

"Hello," His voice was filled with fatigue.

"You seem stressed..."

"Just tired," the phone guy admits quietly, his hands rubbing his temple.

Margaret clicks her tongue. "You've been stressed for a couple weeks, Chuck..."

He couldn't disagree with her there. "Y-Yeah, I know." Charles pauses. "Hey, Margaret?"

She gives him her full attention, responding with a somewhat silent "hmm?". Her hair fell and covered some of her face. "What is it?"

"Do you..." He presses his lips into a thin line, thinking of how he should word this. "Do you ever remember having a husband?" He regrets asking the question.

The red lady presses a finger to her chin. "N-No, not really. Why do you ask?"

"Hm..nevermind, Margaret. It's nothing."

The woman nods a bit. "Right...G-Get to bed soon, you have work tomorrow..."

Charles nods, watching her leave the room before turning his head to the papers on his desk. His mind was occupied with something else that wasn't doing the math, but with memories.

Sad, sad memories.

They were both drunk, it seemed. Underage as well, but they didn't care. They had stolen the alcohol from Charles' father.

"I love you, Chuck." Richard admitted, ruffling up his hair. "You fucking chubby ass-fuck." His words slurred.

The other thinks of it as a joke, and can only play along. "Yeah, sure. I love you too, you hot asshole."