Lover Boy | Newt (Book 1)

~~ 1 ~~

Newt's P.O.V.

   I wake up lying near a small lake in the middle of the forest. There are a few occasional grunts from far but they don't sound human. Next to me, there's a boy with dark skin. He has his brown hair almost completely cut to the scalp and is quite tall with muscles. If I have to guess, I'd say he's about 16. 

   With a pang, I realise I don't even know how I look like or my age. "Newt", repeats in my brain. I suppose that's my name. I don't know much about this sudden amnesia, but it's better if I remain calm. I take a while to get used to my surroundings, not bothering to get up yet.

   The boy next to me starts to stir. His neck twitches and his fingers stretch. I can tell he's awake.

   "Hello. What's your name?" My voice comes out husky from disuse, and I didn't know I have an accent.

   The boy jumps at my voice. He hadn't seen me yet. He opens his eyes and frowns. "I'm...Alby?" He says uncertainly after a bit of consideration. "And you are..."

   "Newt," I say. 

   "Why can't I---"

   "Remember? I can't either," I tell him. This amnesia is weird. It scares me that we have the same problem, and even more for that it isn't just a coincidence.

   "Okay," he shakily says, slowly getting up. "Do you wanna explore this place?" He asks.

   "Sure, there's not much to do around this buggin' forest anyways," I say, and get up. "Bloody hell." I have a massive headache and it takes me a few moments to fight off. I can see Alby having the same problem, both of us holding onto trees to steady our breathing.

   "I forgot to ask, but do you think we should start to settle things here?" He asks as we walk around. There's a wooden building that looks a bit unstable, fields, and a livestock pen. So that's where the moaning and grunting came from.

   "Give us a break, man," I tell him. "Just to mope and do nothing. Tomorrow we can get settled."

   "Sure, whatever," he says and we continue making our way around the structures and walls. 

   We sit around in trees for the rest of the afternoon and just wait for nightfall, neither of us speaking. Then, I remember something I wanted to ask him before.

   "Alby, can you describe what I look like?" I ask.

   "Like...a pile of klunk," he says.

   "What's that?" I ask, thinking maybe I'd forgotten some vocabulary when I lost my memories.

   "I don't know," he says. "It's just something I made up. It means poo, I suppose."

   "Why's that?" I ask though I can probably guess.

   "'Cause 'klunk' is the sound poo makes when it drops into a pot."

   "That's disgusting. How do you remember the sound poo makes when it drops down the loo?" I ask, crinkling my nose. It's strange how we can remember everyday things or in Alby's case, random things.

   "I don't know, it just popped up," He says.

   "In all honesty though, how would you describe me?"

   "Ummm..." he says, sizing me up with his eyes. "180 centimetres, dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, olive skin with freckles? I don't know, I'm terrible with descriptions."

   He definitely isn't good, but he gave a sense of what to base on. I picture myself in my mind using his descriptions, and I actually get something that looks reasonable, though I'm not certain accurate.

   "It's good enough, thanks," I say and walk back to the large shack which we decided to call the Homestead. He follows.

   "Let's turn in tonight," Alby says and I comply. We both find rooms with beds in them next to each other.

   "Well, night," I say before going into my room.

   "Night," Alby says and we close the doors and get into our beds.

   The beds are springy and had blankets on them with a medical smell, ready-made with corners tucked in like a hotel blanket. Why do I remember that? 

   I pull off the blanket and sleep on the mattress. It's cold, but I need to feel it. I need to feel something different in the world, to make sense of things. Curling into a ball, I fall asleep.