Work Text:
"Look Exy! The sky is pretty clear tonight, maybe there won't be a storm after all."
"Hm— Oh, I can see the stars! Wait— I gotta grab my journal—"
"Oh c'mon, you big astronomy nerd—"
"Bold words from someone who's actually named after one of the fucking—"
---
Xander woke to the sound of waves lapping against the hull of a boat. The soft, rythmic noise was actually quite soothing, but it also brought a feeling of wrongness to the man. They could feel the wind on his skin, making them more awake but also unpleasantly cold. His head throbbed with a dull pain, and his vision blurred as sunlight pierced the fabric of his mask. For a moment, they panicked, his fingers instinctively reaching for the mask that covered the lower half of his face. It was still there, snug and secure. That was one thing he could rely on.
But everything else? Everything else was a mystery.
Xander blinked fastly a good dozen of times, trying to adjust his eyes to the drastic brightness. Looking up at their surroundings, a weird sense overcame his mind. It felt like he had seen this all before, even though he had no memory of it. The boat rocked gently beneath him, its sails billowing in the ocean breeze. They looked pretty damaged, all wrinkled up and torn in some places. They pushed himself up and looked around, his mismatched eyes—one vivid blue, the other a striking green—scanning the endless horizon. The sea stretched out in all directions, a vast expanse of glittering blue. There was no land in sight. Xander had always prided himself on their sharp memory—an uncanny ability to recall patterns, names, and even the smallest details of a scene with perfect clarity. Yet now, their mind was a blank canvas. The realization gnawed at him, sending his pulse racing. He gripped the wooden railing and forced himself to steady his breathing. The realisation filled him with dread and confusion, as he felt his heartbeat pick up. Another gust of wind broke them out of the panicked daze, reminding him that there was work to be done.
Xander took stock of himself. Their long, black hair clung to his damp skin, tangled in many places. They didn't remember his hair being that long. Previously, it barley touched down on the man's shoulders, but now it went well past his waist. His skin, once deep brown, was even darker now, kissed by the relentless sun. Salt clung to his clothes, which were frayed and patched in places, as though hastily repaired. Their whole body was foreign to them. It was as if you took out his 17-years-old brain and put it into an older body. They definitely had more muscle now and maybe he was even a bit taller. Not that it changed anything, since he was still much under the average height.
The last thing he could recall was standing on the dock of a bustling port town, their heart pounding as he made the decision to run. He could still see his older brother's face in his mind, twisted with anger and fear.
Why was I running? he wondered.
He knew it had something to do with his brother, but the details eluded him like smoke. Xander knew the answer had something to do with his brother, though the details were as elusive as smoke. Their relationship had always been strained, a constant tug-of-war between resentment and duty. His brother had been more of a guardian than a sibling, taking him in after their family died. Their home was filled with arguments that echoed through the walls, heavy with grief neither of them had fully processed. And yet, for all the conflict, Xander had stayed. For him to run, something really terrible must have happened.
Now, they were here. Two years older, a stranger to themself, and completely alone.
---
"You are so boring. We visit so many beautiful places, there is no way you can't find any good decorations for your desk"
"Hey! I'm just not a decoration kind of guy!"
"Then what kind of guy are you?"
"Move over and I'll show you~"
---
The boat had been small but sturdy, built for long journeys. Well, it had been Now it was clearly broken. The wood was chipped in many places and there were even some holes. It was a miracle that it hasn't sunk yet. Xander explored the cabin below deck, hoping to find some clues. The floor creaked with their every step. It was cozy and much less destroyed. What caught the man off guard was the fact that there were two sets of everything. Two desks, two chairs, two coats. The cabin was clearly divided, with one side being more monotone and the other one full of colour. Despite everything else coming in pairs, there was only one bed there. A big one. The room formed a clear picture in Xander's head — someone else lived there. Whoever it was, they were nowhere to be seen now.
Walking further into the cabin, they found supplies—dried meat, fruit, water barrels, and a set of navigation tools. A journal lay on the desk, its cover worn from use. It was situated in the more colorful side of the room, making Xander think that it might have actually be his. He opened it eagerly, hoping it might provide some answers.
The pages were filled with neat handwriting—his own, he realized—but it was written in a language they didn’t understand. Strange symbols and intricate diagrams covered the pages, charts of stars and seas that made no sense to him. The only thing familiar was a sketch of a compass rose on the first page, with a single word beneath it: Orion.
"Orion," he murmured aloud, the word foreign on his tongue yet oddly comforting.
Was it a name? A destination?
A gust of wind pulled them back to the present, and Xander climbed back to the deck. The sky had darkened, clouds gathering on the horizon. A storm was coming. His instincts kicked in as he secured the sails and checked the ropes, moving with practiced ease despite his amnesia.
Who taught me to sail? he wondered.
As he worked, fragments of memory teased at the edges of his consciousness. The taste of salt on his lips, the exhilaration of wind in his hair, and the sound of laughter—his own and someone else’s. The freedom that made them feel so high, as if they were flying in the air. It was intoxicating. He remembered the rush of adrenaline, but also fear. Running. Tears.
Then, as he tightened a rope, a sudden image flashed in his mind. Bright, searing pain. A flash of anger. A scream tore out of his throat. Xander staggered, clutching his head as the memories burned through him like fire. He fell to his knees, gasping for air as the visions receded, leaving him trembling and hollow. Their mind was buzzing with so many emotions. As quickly as it had started, it was gone. And suddenly, a scary realisation hit them.
He remembered why he run away from his brother.