Chapter Text
It took someone special to drive me up the wall so far that I went out of my own way to physically track them down. However, going on a full blown man-hunt was a little more difficult than I first thought.
A shopping trip to Trost changed my life when I was thirteen. The Parents wanted to be “spontaneous”, so they woke me up at nine in the morning and threw me in the car, hauling my butt to Trost against my whims. I wished they’d be "spontaneous" closer to our home: a cute little town called Jinae. I didn’t want to suffer through the two hour long drive where I made faces at the cars going by. As much fun as that was, writing weird stories in my notebook or playing football in Jinae park was more my cup of tea.
The Parents dived into shops of all kinds in the large shopping centre, while I stayed three feet behind them. Because at thirteen years old, it didn't matter where you were and even if no-one knew who you were; you didn't want anyone to see you with your parents. My resemblance to the married couple was uncanny, considering I had my mum's black hair and my dad's freckles. The joys, the joys.
I stood outside a shop and watched the ridiculous comedy sketch through the window. My mum had a flowery dress, doing the cha-cha in the middle of the shop while dad nodded, complimenting her like The Magic Mirror in Shrek. Of course it would look good on her; that woman could pull off floral any day.
While watching them potter around the shop, both with lovesick gazes aimed towards each other as I gagged, I heard something completely random:
"Three miles to your left, down Trost's main street."
At the sound of the voice I spun round, expecting to find a pervert leering over my shoulder or a grouchy kid on the floor. Don't panic, I told myself. It was just a prank. Whoever it was, was gone by now; probably spluttering in laughter down some alley at my reaction. My parents came out the shop just then, smiling at me and finally declaring that we go and get something to eat in the next town over. Yes, because McDonald’s definitely tastes different when you’re in a restaurant three miles away.
It took some will-power to confess to my parents, a few painful years later. Shopping trips in Trost made me paranoid, seeing as I always heard that odd, irritating but somehow familiar voice giving me the most obscure directions:
"Go around the bend, if I'm not already driving you there." I made sure to avoid that particular corner. Not that I would’ve visited it anyway; there were some scary looking thugs lurking there and I didn't exactly plan on making friends with them (but what an adventure it would’ve been had I tried).
"Turn to the right and zigzag your way into my life. Or just across this insane car park." I ran away from the car park. Think I’d rather diagonal myself out of that situation...
"Why did the chicken cross the road? And go down the path? And then down the street on the third left road? Hint; it was to find me."
The boyish voice that rang in my mind caught my attention.
I was supposed to find him?
....
Great Zelda...
The panelled living room door was my only obstacle. (Fight me) Through the small windows, I could see that my parents were talking to each other during a movie, like they always did. Man, they were so similar with their bubbly personalities (though you didn’t get the impression that they were secretly related, like Milhouse’s parents in The Simpsons).
What I would give to have someone similar to me. Someone who did the same things as you, something simple like talking during a movie; that was a trait to cherish.
Now see, last time I tried to talk to them about something serious they just laughed it off, telling me it was "life" and "the beginning of my manhood". I was under the impression that hearing the voices of a strange guy who wanted you to "find" them, maybe stalk them, possibly worship the ground they walked on, wasn't exactly what I'd been taught in circle time during sex education. (Then again, maybe if we’d actually had a thorough education, I wouldn’t have been so freaked out by pubic hair...)
The fact that I actually considered this voice to be another person's probably meant I needed to go to a mental health facility. The joys. I’ll see you soon, Asylum.
I figured "What the hay, it couldn't hurt to be laughed at again -at least not physically- so get it over with" and pulled the golden handle down to walk inside. My parents looked up at me with owlish expressions.
"Oh, hey Marco! We were just watching this romantic-comedy with Jennifer Anniston in it, do you want to watch it with us? We didn't call you down because we know you're not really into this sort of thing." My dad chirped and grinned at me cheerily, mum went back to watching the movie. It couldn't hurt…
I sat down beside them, or well, on the arm of the couch since they took up the sitting space.
"So…"
Ugh. I was going to regret telling them this.
Non -je ne regrette rien! Keep going Bodt! Live up to your family name (that doesn't have any ancestors worth mentioning)!
"I hear voices in my head!” I blurted out, casually looking at the screen instead of them. Brilliant. Just. Brilliant. Bodt. “Or no, wait, it's just one voice. A guy's. Whenever I'm in Trost I always hear his voice! Ain’t that just... just swell? He gives me directions, that’ll apparently lead me to him..."
When I peeked over at them, I was not expecting their reaction. They both piled onto me and down I fell.
"MARCO THIS IS AMAZING."
"I'M SUDDENLY VERY HAPPY FOR YOU, SON."
"WHYYYY... IS. THIS. AMAZING....? AND... MAKING YOU HAPPY?!" My voice was muffled under the thick blanket. "And why only suddenly? Shouldn't you always be happy for me?"
They rolled around together on the floor, making "happy" sounds. I really hoped they were okay, because I was already tempted to phone an ambulance... (Although, what would I say to the emergency director? “Hi, my parents are doing some kind of seizure-like floor dance and I’m concerned for their health and well-being.” I probably would say that, actually...) My dad crawled up to me, releasing himself from the nest of the blanket, squeezing my shoulders with big hands and beaming at me.
"That's the voice of your soul mate! It's how your mum and I found each other. Quite literally! Oh-hoh, looks like Marco’s bringing back a lover sooner rather than later..."
...
Oh my god.
After that incident in the living room, I was shipped to Trost with a small stash of money for a hotel. I had to find a guy. A guy I hadn't made up, according to my parents. A guy who I knew nothing about apart from his sarcasm and impatience:
"I'm pretty sure an atheist would find God before you found me."
(Okay, he had a pretty decent sense of humour too, I’d give him that much.)
Comments like that were usually followed by more directions. But as I would be so lucky; I have absolutely no sense of direction. (I had to keep the story interesting some way or another, right? Dun-dun-dun! OBSTACLE)
Ask me where my house is and oh, would you look at that, I’m on Aunt Sue’s doorstep. I’ve only been living in Jinae for sixteen years! Of course I don’t know where I live!! It took me three months and several, unwilling guides to find my way around my high school - Jinae Academy- and the layout plan was basically just three levels of long hallways.
There could’ve been a cliché romance between me and the guides, but I think I killed the mood by seeming retarded more than I looked like a lost lamb. Although I’m tall and tanned so it’d be pretty difficult to confuse me with a lamb...
After two hours, the bus dropped me off in Trost. From then on I had about as much idea as to where I was going as a pigeon. And I’ll tell you something: pigeons aren’t exactly the brightest creatures on Earth. I reckon fireflies are the brightest, but that’s not what I meant. Metaphors, people!! Keep up!
Immediately, I heard the boy's voice, my soul mate’s voice, who I guessed was about the same age as me. (Oh, wouldn’t it just be my luck if he turned out to be some old pervert with a disturbingly young sounding voice.)
"Go past the shop with the rickety sign," The wind caused all the signs on the street to look wonky. "Go down the road in the alley next to it, continue forward for one mile, then…"
It was pointless listening to him if I couldn't even find the first location. Actually, why didn't he just find me? Why did I have to find him? It would've been a lot easier.
But, then again, I’m a kind person: never hurts to live up to that trait! I ignored his childish protests ("You're getting colder, COLDer, COLDER -ICE COLD. BITCH GET YOUR ASS BACK ON TRACK.") and began making my way to the cheap hotel my mum suggested I go to. I signed in at the reception, raced up to my room, dumped my bag on the chequered bed and locked the door before sprinting out again.
LET THE GAMES BEGIN.
(Spongebob time-skip voice: 4 hours later)
….
OR LET THE GAMES FAIL MISERABILY.
....
AND SEND ME INTO THE WILDERNESS.
....
IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT.
....
WITH MY PHONE'S BATTERY OUT OF CHARGE!
It was bad enough I had no sense of direction, but now I had to live up to the cliché horror movie scene where the protagonist enters an empty house in the middle of nowhere and gets brutally murdered? Great Zelda, I had such high hopes for myself in a situation like that. Not.
Top tip of survival: be Katniss Everdeen and stick to the trees. Or stay put. At least I got that part right. (But I’m still gonna wear my hair in a pleat and shoot arrows at stuff.)
Yup. It was definitely a lot more difficult to track someone down than I first thought. Stupid, bad-at-giving-directions soul mate. It had better be worth it in the end. That was, if I didn't find myself walking into some river because of his atrocious instructing.
Now wait a darn minute; there were trees... Trees, and lots of them....
“Marco, go climb a tree!” my mind told me. “You could see everything! The way back to town! You could see a whole new world!!”
Oh. I realized something: I couldn’t climb trees. That was going to be a problem.
But who cared?! EN AVANT, MARCO!
"Aha! I found you!"
There was someone out there... And they were coming for me. This is were I would die, oh god-
A thick tree stump scraped my back as I woke, digging into my skin like a cat’s claws and prevented me from scrambling away to safety. Had I fallen asleep? Where? Whaaat’s going on? I rubbed my aching eyes with grazed, muddy fingers. My head was all about that base, pounding in time to the footsteps that thudded towards me.
A figure loomed over me; a boy with a lean body. Ooh yay, he was pretty! My hero! Wait, hang on, the villains are pretty people! Don’t fall for his looks Marco Bodt! Keep that gay little heart of yours in check! He knelt down onto the tall grass in front of me, his crooked teeth glinting in the moonlight as he grinned.
"Hell yeah!"
I groaned at the loud noise. He was like my mum waking me up for school during a hangover. Not that I knew what a hangover felt like. I was under-age, after all. (Who lets that stop them? Goody-two-shoes Marco B: that's who)
"Huh? Wha’ d'ya mean? Wha’s going on?" I slurred.
He raised a dark eyebrow, smirking at me like he knew everything about everything. I kinda wanted to reach out and touch his face. Yes, as weird as that sounds. His skin looked like porcelain; heaven had delivered me a real-life Greek sculpture!
"It's because I'm psychic." he boasted, bouncing on the soles of his feet.
"…Wha’s becuz you’re psychic?"
"I found you because I’m psychic! I've been hearing your voice -it's definitely your voice- for ages, for years, actually. You were telling me where to go to find you. And because you seem to get lost so much, I've never found you until now." His smirk was beginning to look more like an excited smile. It was really cute, if I was being honest with myself. Why you gotta be so cute Mr. Villain...
I shook my head. "My voice?"
His smile lessened the strangeness of what he was saying, even if just a little. My headache decided to lessen the strangeness as well, and man was that was doing wonders for me. As well as giving me beer goggles, it made everything sound normal, totally normal, as though meeting a stranger after having passed out in a forest was something that happened every day. Ha. Ha. Yup.
Scratching my sweaty scalp, I shuffled so that my back wasn't on the rough bark, because that stuff hurt and my poor back was feeling sensitive.
"Yeah. No idea what the hell that's about. But it means I'm cool, so I'll deal with it." He shrugged, then peered at me, scanning my face. He pressed his palm to my forehead.
Woah woah woah, no touchy. Either my discomfort didn’t show on my face, or he didn't seem to care. His face softened as he gazed at me. I stopped minding the contact since his hands were warm.
I would've stopped him somehow if he'd seemed like a pervert, I would have, but he didn’t seem to have any intention of hurting me. Although his appearance didn't really seem like the touchy-feely type: pointy jaw, straight nose, narrowed, cat-like eyes and a small, tight lipped mouth.
There was his rough voice too; I could easily imagine the guy scoffing a lot and insulting others. Suddenly he jolted, eyes widening in shock. He placed his other hand on my head and combed through my hair , sending shivers down my spine and a tingling pressure onto my neck that had me wanting to lean into the sensation.
"Holy shit, you're bleeding, like, there's actually a lot of blood. How can you not feel that?!" Because that’s reassuring...
"It's fine, it's fine." I batted his hand away, pushing down the giddiness that was dancing around in the pit of my stomach. "Let's see if I can stand. And if not, you're carrying me to the hospital, Mister Saviour."
Maybe I couldn't get away with touching his face randomly, but flirting, flirting I would always take a chance with when faced with a pretty boy. I'm a Gemini; it's what I do best.
Mr. Saviour tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "…Excuse me?" You, sir, have some good eyebrow game. I applaud you.
I sleepily returned his smirk from earlier. "My Prince Charming came to save me, didn't he? I'm certainly the damsel in distress and I…" I looked around the dark forest, rubbing my hand as the panic rose again. "Yeah, I don't even know how I got out here."
Presenting my arms so he would help me up, I snorted with laughter as he glared down at me, arms crossed as though the thought of carrying me was offensive. Oh don’t let this lil’ ol’ peasant get in the way of your manners, Greek Sculpture Boy.
At that moment in time, we were in the middle of a forest…
Forest of where exactly…? Something wasn't right here…
I attempted to stand up on the dry grass and blacking out during the activity didn't help much, seeing as unconsciousness tends to interfere with movement.
Sometime later, I woke up to the antiseptic smell of the hospital. Yay. The white sheets I lay on and walls helped me figure out my new location, aside from the smell. Not to mention the freaking scary doctor hovering over me. I quickly leaned away from him with my heart lurching. He wore scrubs and had a stethoscope around his neck. Very doctor-like, I have to say.
What wasn't very doctor-ish about him was that he was staring me down passionately and I was thinking, hey, that's not your job. Go get your torch thing to do the eye test or at least ask me out and butter me up before looking into my eyes like that. It's called courtesy, man. Jesus. People these days.
Speaking of courtesy; I knew the person next to him had a lack of said trait. I bet they would've gotten along well, that black haired doctor and Mister Saviour. The hot, blondish-brown haired guy with an undercut and honey eyes. Who was apparently psychic.
Okay, so... Hot and Crazy he was. I could deal with that. He'd totally carried me to the hospital. His arms were pretty thick and muscled with a vein sticking out, despite his lean figure. Yum. (Score: ten million for Bodt. I win the Hot Boy Hunt, you can all go home now) Let’s call him Hot Psychic Dude. But I call dibs, bitches.
After reassuring myself, yes; the intense dude with white overalls was a doctor, I loosened up my stiffened shoulders, laying back down on the bed which creaked under my weight. I found myself gazing back at menacing grey orbs, both of them almost hidden beneath heavy eyelids.
What an amazing view I had down there on that bed. Would you look at that; he trimmed his nose hairs daily, I could tell. How nice of him to take care of himself like that. I bet he used deodorant too -the quality kind.
"Hey there." I nodded slowly at him. “I’m Marco. Bodt.”
My voice sounded thick and sleepy. Sleep sounded amazing right around now; although I had probably just woken up. You know, being in a bed and all. I did remember that I'd passed out for some reason or other. Oh yeah... Blood, there had been blood on my head. I didn’t consider touching my head at that moment.
The doctor’s accented voice was old sounding in contrast to his young appearance. "You're awake. Good. Where's your insurance card?"
Ah yes: the joy of doctors that care. They clean you up right away -after you wait for several hours- and you give them money in some shape or form. Then they send you off home; that's their favourite part.
"I have no idea." I smiled up at him and blinked lazily. "In fact, I don't know where I am. Care to tell?"
His black eyebrows furrowed and Hot Psychic Dude shifted uncomfortably in the visitor chair.
"Brilliant. That's just what we need. Where'd you say you found him?" He continued staring at me while talking to HPD. If I fluttered my eyelashes would he look away. Nope. Mission failure.
"Uh, just outside of Trost, in the woods." The doctor turned, frowning in disbelief.
"What the hell were you doing out there this late at night?"
He shrugged his shoulders, cowering under piercing grey eyes but trying to hide his fear as he looked away, towards me with such nice, honey coloured eyes. "…I wanted to go for a walk. Felt like going to the woods. Nothing much to it, really. So that's where you are, Marco: Trost. This is Trost hospital, if you haven't figured that out. My name's Jean. And I don't know who this dude is." He flicked a thumb at the doctor as he spoke, smiling at me like I was special. Me. Special. Aha ha. I like him.
Trost. Me and my parents went here for shopping trips. I didn't really like Trost, that was the impression I had from what I remembered, which wasn't much to go on. And um, that was about it, really.
"I don't know why I'm in Trost. I should be in Jinae."
The doctor scanned my face with his eyes narrowed. "This isn't a movie."
I tore my eyes from Jean's. "I'm aware of that, I think."
"So you really don't remember why you're here?"
Ah, the classic case of:
"Amnesia?" Doctor man hurled his clipboard onto the bed at my feet and bared his teeth. "We have to deal with you guys whether you've got insurance or not. This is going out of my pay check, fuck." HPD gave me a sly thumbs up as the doctor sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand.
I honestly didn't know what the hell was going on, but I was pretty sure I could live with it.
Or, you know.
Have "it" leave me with a fair amount of debt and an angry letter, explaining to my parents what had happened, and a detailed description of what an idiot I was and how I had short term amnesia. I couldn't seem to remember the last three years.
It didn't exactly help that my dad was a well known doctor in Trost. Dr. Levi told me dad was a disliked doctor, because he was "too nice". He was too good with women, even though he was married to my mum, and he always got the best work to do.
I didn't have any use in my phone since it was out of charge. I had no idea where my stuff was. No charger, zilch money, no way to get home; nothing at all. That phone was my only life-line to my dad and mum's phone numbers (which I had never made a point to remember).
So I took a mighty fine field trip to… Guess where?
"Hey mum," Jean said as we walked though a red door in the earliest hours of the cold morning; me with my newly bandaged head and Jean with his spare keys clinking in his long fingers. "I'm home-"
“OH MY GOSH IS THIS WHERE YOU LIVE ‘CAUSE IT’S REALLY NICE. ARE YOUR PARENTS HOME I WANNA MEET THEM-”