#anyway. thinking abt how many fics where arthur assumes/worries what happened to vivi happened to lewis to

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

The ghost wakes up in the woods, not far from a road, though he doesn’t know that at the time. He takes stock of himself first, because it feels like the right thing to do.

Things he has:

-A wallet (mostly empty, aside from a few bills)

-A phone (broken)

-A heart-shaped locket (unopenable)

Things he does not have:

-Any kind of ID

-Any idea where or who he is.

He stands up. Physically, he feels okay, which is a good sign. There’s the distant sound of a car rushing by, and some instinct tells him to follow that sign towards civilization.

–––

A few months pass. He finds a job, and a place to stay. He still doesn’t know who he is, or why he woke up in the woods, but for some reason he can’t explain, he doesn’t feel too worried about it. Something deep in his chest says wait, stay still, they will find you. They will not leave you.

So he does. He stays still, and he waits.

He doesn’t have a name, yet. Nothing feels right. People take to calling him ghost, because he’s nobody, because he moves through the world without leaving an imprint.

–––

Another month, and someone does find him. It seems almost like an accident.

The door chimes open and someone walks in and immediately starts complaining. “‘s fucking freezing in here,” says a voice that’s a little high and a little scratchy and seems to snag on itself, and there’s the faintest flicker of something that the ghost, for a moment, ignores.

“The heat’s already all the way up, not sure what you want me to do... about... that.” He starts speaking as he looks up, and loses the thread of his sentence midway as he stares at the newcomer.

Small – everyone looks small to him, that’s not a very good qualifier – pale, golden hair with a black spike and a vest that objectively, should all look stupid together, but the first emotion he registers is oh, thank god. A wave of relief. Seeing his face feels like coming home, even if he doesn’t know why yet.

The stranger-who-isn’t-a-stranger stares back at him, pure shock on his face. 

“Lewis?” he manages, after a beat.

The name settles in his chest, fitting into a small piece of the gap that’s been left there.

“...sorry, do I know you?”

–––

A few minutes later they’re sitting at a table and talking.

Arthur – that’s his name, it fits so sweetly in his mouth when he repeats it unthinkingly after him – doesn’t seem that surprised when he says he doesn’t remember him, or anything. It’s not the first time it’s happened around him, apparently. Vivi – another friend, a name that feels soft and sharp at once, the echo of a laugh – can’t remember anything about him. At all. Arthur’s been trying to break whatever spell’s been put on her (and he seems pretty confident that it’s a spell of some kind, too), but no luck so far.

That doesn’t exactly bode well for his own memories, but he decides to ignore that for now.

The first time he expresses skepticism – this feels almost too easy, too convenient – Arthur produces a photo. It’s the two of them, and a blue-haired girl that he knows is Vivi, instinctively, and a small dog jumping up eagerly to get into frame.

“It’s... a little old, s-sorry,” Arthur says, holding it up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t... we don’t, uh, take a lot of- of photos.”

He looks between the photo and the man holding it. They’re undeniably the same person, but he can’t help but take note of certain differences. In the photo, he has both arms, there’s more color in his cheeks, his eyes aren’t as dark. He seems skinnier now, too, his cheeks almost sunken. It strikes him as strange, but he doesn’t have the confidence to bring it up just yet.

When Arthur offers to take him home – “Ready to head back to Tempo? Your f-family’s been waiting for you” – he agrees without even pausing to think about it. More than right, it feels like the thing he’s been waiting for.

–––

They walk out to the car – a van, and once again the neon orange and tacky colors should make him roll his eyes, but they don’t.

Vivi sees him and almost immediately faints. Once again, Arthur doesn’t seem surprised by it, just frustrated. He catches her with practiced ease and sets her back down on the small mattress she was sleeping on.

“I- I was hoping... maybe she’d remember when... when she s-saw you.” His voice wavers, and he sniffs, but when he stands and turns it’s with a smile pinned on his face again. “Guess you’re riding in fr-front.”

–––

Sitting in the front seat as the car slowly rumbles along in silence brings back something unfamiliar – a memory. It builds slowly, from a faint ping in the back of his mind to a feeling deep in his core. A confusing mix of emotions – comfort-happiness-laughter-concern-confusion-regret – and then suddenly it clicks, the entire thing opening before him. He’d been driving, then, Vivi sitting next to him, Arthur in the backseat – his legs got cramped and all his stuff was back here anyway – but leaning over the seats to talk to them. He’d told him to sit down, standing was distracting him and it wasn’t safe, but he just laughed at him. Oh, I’m distracting, am I? Then they’d pulled up and–

–and–

–and the memory dissolves. That brief moment, in the car, and then darkness.

He hums softly.

“S’up?” Arthur asks, almost-but-not-quite glancing at him.

Lewis shakes his head slightly, and then looks over at him. “I think... I remember you. Not all the way. But... something.”