☾unavngivet - ☼

The sound of the thin wheels driving across the gravel filled out their ears once Mark finally reached his house. He could feel that the boy behind him was tired as he had slumped down further onto Mark's back throughout the bike ride. Mark wasn't completely sure of what to do.

Rolling slowly all the way towards a little work shack his dad used for storage, Mark tapped the boy's head gently. "We're here," he whispered and the boy looked up with sleepy eyes. He pulled out of the strong grip he had around Mark's waist and got off the bike with a little help from the latter.

The boy looked around him curiously as Mark threw his bike up against the shack's walls, taking the groceries before.

"This is home?" the boy asked and stared at Mark.

The older shook his head. "This is my dad's shack," he laughed causing the other to blush in embarrassment. "My home is over here," he added and walked out of the shack followed by the boy, over their courtyard and into a beautiful house made of red bricks.

"Home~" sang the boy as they stepped foot inside. He spun around the entrance and into the living room, mouth agape as giggles left from his plump lips.

Mark cursed under his breath and threw off his shoes before running after the boy, afraid he might break something or hurt himself. His raising heartbeat slowed down as he found the boy fiddling gently with the embroidered white curtains in the living room.

He turned to Mark and smiled. "I love home!"

Mark grinned. "It's not your home," he said and watched as latter scrunched his face with a pout.

"Then where's my home?"

Mark's subtle smile faded into a thin line. "That's what we need to find out," he said. "You definitely have a home somewhere, we just need to get your memories back to find out where it is," Mark observed the other again. He needed a bath and some clothes so Mark took responsibility and led him up the stairs.

"Where are we going?" asked the boy as he waddled up the stairs, keeping as little space between Mark and him as possible. He didn't know why but the older raven-haired seemed really safe, and he felt protected the closer they were.

Mark ruffled the younger's fluffy, slightly dirty, hair. "You need a bath and some clothes, so we're going to the bathroom."

"O-Okay."

☾ ☼

Mark had given him a set of clothes and had led him into the white bathroom. He stood in it alone now, lost and confused, unable to remember what a shower was. He had a slight idea in his head but wasn't completely sure.

He let the blanket, that had been wrapped around his body since Mark gave it to him, fall down to the floor as he stared at himself in the mirror. It was so weird. He couldn't even remember how he looked before now. It was hurting his brain, thinking and trying to remember anything, but no matter how hard he tried to remember, all his memories were black except the ones from after Mark had found him on the road.

"Are you okay in there?" he heard a voice ask from the other side of the door.

"Yes," he mumbled. "I just don't know how to take a shower," he admitted and sighed as everything went silent on the other side.

After some time the voice returned. "Do you see the blue boxers I gave you? Put them on and open the door."

☾ ☼

Mark couldn't help but smile looking at the cute creature in front of him. The boy was sitting in the bathtub, playing with bubbles like a little baby. He would poke a bubble causing it to burst, giggle out loud, and look at Mark to see if he found it as amusing as himself, then repeat.

And every single time, Mark would laugh along with him. Not because he found the burst of a bubble amusing, but because he couldn't help himself. Never had he ever seen such a happy, cute, and innocent human being before.

"Look!" the boy exclaimed as a very big bubble had surfaced alongside the blanket of smaller ones. He poked it and it made a funny sound.

Mark smirked. "Watch this," he said and scooped up some of the soap. He clapped his hands together causing the fluffy substance to fly everywhere like snow in the winter. The brunette watched it in awe.

Mark leaned back, satisfied with the reaction he got. "You know, I never got to say this," he pointed out. "My name is Mark."

The boy looked at him. "Mark? That's a funny's name," he cackled. "Well, my name is-" he trailed off. "Actually, I don't remember."

Mark stood up and went over to the sink. "That's okay," he assured and grabbed the black towel he had brought with him into the bathroom beforehand. "We can make up a temporary name until you remember," he suggested and helped the boy stand up and get out of the tub. He draped the black towel over the boy's wet body and walked back to the sink.

"Like what?" the boy pouted, his wet hair falling down onto his face.

Mark stopped in his tracks. He stared at the boy, the latter reminding him of someone very specific a lot. Actually, now that he thought about it, the two were almost identical.

"What about the name ?"

☾ ☼