Chapter Text
They woke up breathing hard and drenched in sweat.
They sit up in bed (is it their bed?) and take some deep breaths. They were supposed to (did they have to?) do that whenever they got anxious about something (what were they anxious about?). After a few beats, their heart rate returns to normal (was that a normal heart rate?) and they’re able to breathe normally.
Now, isn’t there a second thing they were supposed to (who told them to?) do when this happened? They think about this for a minute (longer? there isn’t a clock) and then it hits them.
Who are they?
Their heart starts beating faster again. No, no, no. This wasn’t right, (what was?) they were supposed to know what they were doing (who decided that?) they were supposed to be the one who protected (protected who?).
Think, think, think. There was a name for this, they knew that (how did they know that?). After a moment they remember- this was called amnesia (how did they know that?). They have a vague sensation of someone’s (whose?) voice explaining the definition of amnesia (why was the voice so annoyed? was it annoyed at them?) but they’re alone in the room. Maybe it was a memory (but they didn’t have memories) or maybe someone outside the room (was there a way to get out?) or maybe they were just losing it (maybe they were already insane).
Some sort of panic settles over them- even more than before. They grab at their sheets (seriously, was this their bed or not?) their chest tightening, like some sort of rope was trying to strange them. Wrong, wrong, wrong. They rock back and forth (this is comforting) and they have the same sensation of a voice again (not really there but not not there, and maybe they were just going crazy) but this time it was definitely talking to them.
Virgil, do me a favor and name 5 things you can see.
Virgil. Is that their name? (thinking about their name for too long gives them an awful headache, and they decide not to dwell on it). Either way, the voice seems to want to help them, so they oblige.
Five things I can see.
They look around the room (which feels strangely familiar).
I can see… spiders
Purple (I like purple. It’s a soothing color)
Nightmare Before Christmas posters (how did I know what those posters are from?)
A puzzle book (I need to give that back) (who do I need to give it back to?)
A drawing pinned to the wall (why is that on the wall?) (It looks like a 5 year old did it)
They take a breath.
Now four things you can feel, continues the voice.
The bedsheets.
A hoodie (why am I wearing the hoodie?) (did I sleep in it?)
My hair (it’s all mussed up and in my eyes)
Pants.
Three things you can hear?
It’s so quiet in the room. “I can’t hear anything,” they say out loud (why were they talking to the voice? It wasn’t really there).
I guess I can hear my voice, now. (why does my voice sound like that?) (It’s so low)
They strain their ears and can hear… shouting? Voices? (why did they recognize the voices?) Maybe the voices should be comforting, because it means that there are people that could explain what’s going on (wow, a fully formed thought. they were impressed.) but the voices instead just made them more anxious.
I can hear shouting.
After a minute, it dawns on them. If they can hear the voices, maybe the voices can hear them.
“Hello?” they call to the darkness, feeling slightly foolish. The voices stop, then start up again in a lower, more scared sounding tone. They can practically sense (maybe they can sense) the voices’ anxiety.
“Hello?” they call again. Silence, then a door on the other side of the room (was the door always there?) opens, and another person (person?) peeks into the room.
“Hello,” says the second person (person was a good enough word for now) cautiously. “Do you- do you remember anything?”
“No,” they say, silently judging the second person’s clothing choices (who the hell wears a bowler hat?). “Do you?”
“No,” says the second person. “No one remembers anything.”
“No one?” they ask, suddenly at attention. “There are more… people?”
“Three so far, counting you,” says the second person. “But maybe more. There are more doors that we haven’t opened yet.”
They think about this. There are more people. At least two others, maybe more. And none of them know anything.
They push themself out of the bed and make their way over to the second person (at least they still remember how to walk). “Do you know where we are?”
“No,” the second person says simply.
“Not the slightest clue?” they reply stingily. They have a bad feeling about this second person (why don’t they like him? they don’t even know him).
“No,” he repeats.
They sigh. “Do you know who we are, then?”
The second person thinks about this. “Maybe,” he says. He rubs the side of his face, and they notice for the first time that he has scales on the side of his face, like a snake (snakes are bad why are snakes bad?).
Their levels of distrust rise. “Tell me what you know.”
The second person rubs his face again, considering this. “I woke up today. Recently. There’s no clock so I don’t know the time. I didn’t remember anything. I got up and I opened someone else’s door- he’s mad at me but we don’t know why. And then we heard you and I went to open your door and now we’re here.”
They follow the second person out the door into a long corridor. There are six doors (six is important). One is theirs, two are open but not theirs. Three are closed.
The corridor seems to have rooms on either end, but Yellow leads him off to the right.
The corridor opens out into a room that looks like a living room. It has a couch, a few chairs, a television and a bookshelf lining the walls, and a coffee table sits in the middle. On the walls are several paintings, with various degrees of realism. There are a couple doors on one wall, all closed.
A third person (person? they need a better name for these things they’re meeting) is sitting on the couch. He’s wearing a blue tie (why does everyone here have terrible clothing choices?) and glasses (glasses glasses why are glasses so strange?).
“There’s another one?” asks the third person. The second person nods.
“He doesn’t remember anything either,” says the second person, rubbing his scales again (nervous habit?).
“They,” they correct. “They don’t remember anything.” They haven’t thought about this before, but they is definitely correct and he definitely isn’t.
“They don’t remember anything,” repeats the second person.
“Fascinating,” says the third person. He adjusts his glasses (nervous habit). “Well, I suppose we’d better find some way to address each other, if we don’t know who we are.”
They play with their hair. “Like… a name?” (once again, the idea of a name gives them a headache, like they’ve touched the surface of something deep and don’t want to go further).
“Or a nickname, I suppose. Since we don’t know our real names.” He adjusts his glasses again.
“Well, what do you suggest?” asks the second person. (he’s more anxious now that names have been brought up) (how did they know that?).
“I don’t know, I’m not the nickname guy!” says the third person. (they agree with this)
The second person scans the group. “We’re all wearing different colors. We could call each other by colors.”
They think about this. “So I’m Purple.”
“Yes, and I’d be Blue. You’d be Yellow,” Blue says, pointing at the third person.
“Yellow. I like that name,” says Yellow.
“Good. Well, that was easy enough,” says Blue. He pushes up his glasses. (why is he so nervous?) “What next?”
"Maybe we should try figuring out where the hell we are.” The sarcastic tone has crept back into their voice, like a defence. “This is called amnesia, right? That’s the word for what’s going on?”
Blue nods. “We’ve forgotten all our memories of who or where we are. That sounds like amnesia to me.” He frowns. “Although, I don’t know how I know that’s what amnesia is…”
“Well, y’know, then maybe the next step is trying to remember those memories.” (why is everyone being so stupid it’s so obvious who we are) (who are we?)
Blue thinks about this. “I have a lot of books in my room. Maybe one of them is about amnesia… I’ll go check.” He stands and starts to make his way over to the door, but Yellow speaks up before he gets there.
“What about the other doors?”
Blue turns. “The ones in the hallway? What about them?”
“What if there’s something important behind them?” Yellow rubs his scales again (stop being so nervous you’re making it worse).“Don’t… don’t you feel it? They feel important.”
Blue’s eyes scan the hallway, the silence behind the unopened doors. “Perhaps. Maybe we could just open one… just to figure out what’s there.” He’s talking more to himself now. “Maybe they’ll know what’s going on.”
“Well, go on then!” Yellow’s voice is raised. They flinch (not a good voice they don’t like that voice). “Open it! What are you waiting for?” (why is he scared? he doesn’t sound scared) (but he is scared)
Blue flinches too, but he moves to the closest unopened door and puts a hand on the knob. He hesitates, Yellow and Purple watching him intently. (they can feel his fear.) (he’s worried about the door.)
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” says Yellow smoothly. Blue blinks at him for a moment, fear staring through his thick glasses. Then he turns the knob and pulls open the door.
Music floats through the air, leaking from the open door. The notes don’t form any sort of song- they’re just notes, moving vaguely through the hallway. Blue looks mildly surprised at this development, then pokes his head inside the room.
“Hello?” he calls.
No response.
“Hello?” Blue calls again. He inches inside, moving like he’s pushing through some invisible force. “Is there anyone in here?”
This time a sleepy voice responds from the room. “I’m here… wait.” There’s a pause. (they can feel fear climbing in the room) “Oh, oh god.”
Blue adjusts his glasses. “Do you remember anything?”
The voice is intense, like it’s used to having to speak over people. “Remember? No. I don’t… nothing.” (he’s full-on panicking now) “Oh my god… where am I? Who am I?” His voice becomes louder. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No. But if-”
“What? How are you so calm about this?” Another person comes out of the room (presumably this is the one the voice belongs to), this one dressed in red and white. He grips Blue’s shoulders. “Come on, nerd, you gotta help me here.”
Blue blinks and tries to push the fourth person’s hands back. “I told you, I don’t know any more than you do. Now calm down, and we can talk through this rationally.”
“No, we can’t!” the fourth person insists. “Do you know what I could’ve forgotten? I could’ve been a knight! A hero across the lands! And now I can’t remember any of it!”
“Well, maybe if you calmed down, we could help you remember it,” sighs Blue. He seems almost resigned, like he knew that he was going to have to deal with this. This concerns Purple at first (what if he knows something he’s not telling them?) but then they remember their anger at Yellow, and calm down some.
“I can’t just- wait. We?”
Blue gestures to where Purple and Yellow are standing. Purple gives a kind of half wave, and Yellow blows him a kiss. “There are four of us so far,” explains Blue. “None of us remember anything.”
The fourth person narrows his eyes at Purple and Yellow. “What’s with that dude’s snake face?” he asks.
“What’s with everyone hating me?” retorts Yellow. “First Blue, and Purple keeps giving me the side eye, and now you?”
“Hey, I never said it was bad,” says the fourth person. He puts a hand on his hip, like he’s expecting something to be there. “So do you guys have names, then?”
“We don’t know our names,” says Purple. “We’re calling each other by colors. So you’ll be Red.”
“Red?” Red thinks about this. “Well, that sounds sort of right… a bit too plain for my tastes, though. How about… Carmine? Or Cinnabar? Something cool.”
Blue shakes his head. “No, we already came up with a system and we’re going to stick to it. No naming yourself other off-brand shades of red.”
Red looks offended at that. “How dare you call Cinnabar off-brand? It is a gorgeous color, it deserves better!”
“How do you even know the names for different shades of red anyway?” asks Yellow, who must’ve gotten tired of standing and is now lounging on the couch.
Red shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Interesting,” mutters Blue, scribbling something down in his notebook.
Yellow sighs, draping himself dramatically across the couch. “I’m hungry,” he announces.
“Me too,” agrees Purple. They weren’t before, but now that it’s been brought up they realize how empty their stomach is.
“Hm. So whatever we are, we’re able to feel hunger,” says Blue, writing something else down.
“Whatever we are? Aren’t we human?” asks Red.
“No,” say Purple and Blue in unison. They look at each other in surprise (he feels it too?), and Blue continues, “Don’t you feel it? The term ‘human’ just feels so wrong when describing us.”
“Also, I’m pretty sure humans can’t be half snake,” says Purple.
“Well whatever we are, I’m hungry,” says Yellow. “Do you think there’s a kitchen in here? Maybe down the hall?”
“Then what are we?” asks Red, ignoring Yellow. “If we’re not human?”
“Well, we’re definitely humanoid,” says Blue, “that is, having a body similar to that of a human. So we can rule out being any other types of animals, unless we’re some sort of undiscovered species of animal that looks exactly like a human.”
“So you’re saying we’re some sort of mythical creature then?” Purple jokes.
Red gasps, apparently taking Purple’s comment as a genuine suggestion. “Do you think we’re dragons?”
Blue rolls his eyes. “Do we look like dragons to you?”
“Witches? Maybe we’re witches!”
“We’re not witches.”
“Maybe we’re, like… witch-dragons!”
“Please stop.”
Red sticks his tongue out at Blue, and Blue responds by poking him with his pencil.
“Okay, so if we’re not witches or dragons-” starts Purple.
“Or witch-dragons,” adds Red.
“Or witch-dragons,” they repeat, “then what are we?”
“I’m not sure…” Blue writes some more things down in his notebook. “Maybe I have some books in my room on the subject.”
“Hey. If you want to know about fantasy creatures, that’s my department,” says Red.
Blue stares at him. “What, exactly, makes you think it is ‘your department?’”
“Well…” Red rubs his head. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I just feel like… I’m the fantasy guy, you know? Just like you’re the nerd guy,” he says, pointing at Blue.
“I’m the nerd guy?”
“Well, sure. You wear glasses, like a nerd, and you use big words and you carry around that notebook everywhere. Seems pretty nerdy to me.”
“He has a point, you know,” says Purple.
Blue huffs. “I am not a nerd.”
“Yeah, whatever, Teach.” says Red.
Purple thinks about this for a moment. “Isn’t it kind of interesting that we have these ideas, though? I mean, doesn’t that mean that like… maybe we knew each other or something?”
“I mean, considering we all woke up in the same house, which implies that we lived together, I’d say we almost definitely knew each other,” says Blue. “It is interesting, though.”
“And didn’t Yellow mention-” Purple freezes. “Wait. Where is Yellow?”
“Wasn’t he on the couch?” asks Red, turning around and looking at the empty couch.
“He was,” says Blue. “Where’d he go?”
“Don’t ask me!” Purple says, their voice raising without them really meaning it to. (they’re being accused again they didn’t do anything)
“Yellow?” calls Blue. “Where’d you go?”
He starts to wander around the living room, eyeing the paintings like Yellow might be hiding there.
“He mentioned being hungry. He probably just went to find a kitchen or something,” says Red, but he starts looking around the room anyway.
Purple bites their lip, and realizes that there’s already a well-worn dent on their bottom lip. Whoever they were before they lost their memory, they must have chewed their lip a lot. “I can check down the hall,” they offer.
“Good idea,” says Blue, now looking under the coffee table.
Purple wanders down the hall, peering into the open doors as they go. They see Red’s room, closest to the living room, and Blue’s room next to it. Then came a pair of two open doors that Purple hasn’t seen anyone go in or out of, so they aren’t sure who they belong to. Then their room, and a closed door with scratch marks on it.
Hold on.
They double back, counting the number of opened doors. Five. Weren’t only four open before?
Yellow must have opened another door.
They glance back at Red and Blue, who have mostly given up on trying to find Yellow and are now just arguing with each other. Maybe Purple should tell them before he goes into an unknown room…
Go. It’s not like they’ll care if you’re gone.
They look down the hallway again before heading into the first door, closer to the living room. It has a bright, sunny feeling that they’re not entirely sure they like, but it’s certainly very nice. Looking around, they see what must be thousands of what looks like useless objects- children’s drawings and half destroyed jackets. Who the hell would hang on to all these things?
Low voices came from one corner of the room. One of them they recognized- it was Yellow’s. The other was higher pitched and bubbly (and clearly anxious). The room must belong to the bubbly voice.
“Hello? Yellow? Are you in here?”
The voices stop abruptly. There’s some hurried whispering, then Yellow comes into view and looks around for a moment before spotting Purple. “Oh! Purple! Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to try opening another door… maybe I should have told you guys first.”
“Yeah, you should’ve!” Purple’s voice is raised without them meaning it to. “You scared me! I know we just met each other, but you should tell us before you run off like that!” (running away they ran away and then he ran away)
“Sorry.” Yellow winces. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Yeah, well-” Purple stops as another person steps around the corner. He must be the one the bubbly voice belongs to, unless there are even more people in the room he doesn’t know about. The new bubbly person is wearing a blue polo and a hoodie around his shoulders (who wears hoodies like that) and he has large, round glasses. Fearful brown eyes stare at him from behind the glasses.
“I’m sorry, it was really my fault,” says the new person, shaking his hands worriedly.
“How was it your fault?” asks Yellow, turning to him. “I’m the one who came into your room without telling anyone.”
“Well, yeah… but I should have told you to go tell them where you were, instead of talking to you.”
Yellow sighs. “You didn’t even know there were other people until I told you.”
The bubbly person opens his mouth to argue again, but Yellow cuts him off. “Let’s go into the living room,” he suggests. “We can talk more there.”
The bubbly person nods, and the three of them head back out into the hall, where Red and Blue are still arguing. When they see Yellow, they stop and stare in surprise.
“I found another person,” says Yellow. “Sorry for not telling you I was gone.” He sits down on the couch, obviously not wanting to elaborate on where he found this other person, or if he remembers any more than the rest of them.
“Hi,” says the bubbly person, waving awkwardly. “I don’t remember anything either.”
The others stare at him for a while. “What are we going to call you?” asks Red finally.
“What?” asks the bubbly person nervously.
“Well, we’re calling each other by our colors,” says Red. “But you and Blue both wear blue.”
“Bubbles,” suggests Purple without really thinking.
“What?” asks the bubbly person.
“I- well, you act kind of bubbly, so you know, maybe Bubbles is a good name,” they stammer.
“And it starts with B, you know, for Blue.”
“I like that name!” says Bubbles. “It reminds me of something. Not sure what, though. Oh well!” He smiles and shrugs. “So I guess that makes figuring out everyone else’s name pretty easy, right? You’re Purple, and you’re Red, and you’re Yellow?”
“Yes, that’d be correct,” says Blue.
Bubbles looks over at Blue. “Hey! We have the same glasses!”
Blue glares at him. “Yep.”
Purple’s stomach grumbles. “I’m still hungry,” they say. “Would anyone happen to know where a kitchen is?”
Bubbles looks around. “I think it might be over here,” he says, pointing to a door on the side of the living room. He blinks. “I’m not sure how I know that, though. That’s kind of weird, right? Knowing something and not knowing why? Is this what amnesia’s like? Do you think-”
“Stop.” Blue cuts him off. “Let’s just go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Quickly. We still need to figure out who and where we are, and we can’t do that if we’re busy going on random tangents.”
Bubbles looks sort of upset, and Yellow glares at Blue. Blue ignores him and walks over to the kitchen, dragging Red with him.
Purple sighs and follows them. If they’re going to be stuck with these idiots until they get their memory back, it’s definitely not going to be fun.