DSMP AU Oneshots (angst and comfort)

Scattered -- Part One (Karlnap//Karlnapity angst)

TW// memory loss, anger/some arguing

First person POV: Karl POV

Word count: 1785

The neon-green glow-in-the-dark stars upon my ceiling were beginning to fade by the time I woke up that morning. Groaning, I sleepily blinked up at them, admiring their beauty a few seconds longer before my mind wandered elsewhere.

I noticed my body felt cold in certain places, as if I had been held for a long while but someone let go. Maybe that was the remnants of a dream? Although, turning my head and sitting up, I was a little surprised to find the right side of my oversized bed had its sheets pushed back, while to the left of me was folded tight and cold.

So, at least one other person had indeed slept in this bed with me last night. But who?

The lingering scent of an extinguished fire was the only hint I had to work with, but I didn't know what it meant since there weren't even any candles to begin with in the room. Had I been out with people to roast marshmallows or something the previous night?

What was going on?

"Hello?" I called out, but the only response I got was the growing sound of whistling and sizzling, combined with the smell of waffles drifting in from under the door.

Before heading out to greet the other person, I switched from my purple pyjamas into my sweatpants and favourite rainbow, swirl-pattern hoodie. Something about the way the imprinting had taken on a grey-tinge put me on edge, but I elected to believe it had been that way forever. Surely I was just being paranoid.

As my door creaked open, I stepped tentatively out into the view of my kitchen.

"Uh, good morning," I boldly greeted the broad-back of a male wearing an oversized white shirt and black jeans with jet-black hair sitting around his shoulders.

"Mm, good morning, Karl," a sweet but gravelly voice greeted me as I stood there a little dumbfounded - taking in the way his muscles moved while doing something over the stove. I knew the tone, but couldn't place it.

Without turning around, he continued talking. "How did you sleep? You had a nightmare last night, by the way. You didn't wake up during it, so I'm not sure if you'd remember. I felt bad for leaving you once I got up, but wanted to make you something special to make up for it, just in case."

In a dream-like state, I moved to sit on a bar stool in the kitchen - now mesmerised by their large, multi-ringed hands dealing with the waffles in the pan. A little stilted and confused, I replied with, "Uh... Don't sweat it...dude. I don't remember, but I slept decently, thanks."

From the side I could see of his stumbled face, the boy's brow creased beneath his fringe for a brief moment, before his face softened.

"Hm. You're having one of those days, huh? It's cool, we can deal with it together."

I tilted my head. "One of 'what' kind of days?"

My attention was drawn back to watching his hands: the blackened and scratched paint upon his nails slightly glistened with oil. A memory nagged at me of us painting each others at some point.

"Your memory feels foggy, yeah? You probably think I'm some random but have some persistent notion you know me, huh?"

I messed with my mass of hair to bring myself some kind of comfort. "Um... I'm so sorry. But yeah. You're right...? If you're important, I feel so guilty for -"