I slowly opened my eyes as the sun hit my face, its brightness forcing me awake. The warmth creeping through the window made my skin tingle as I blinked away the grogginess. My body, feeling lighter than yesterday, stirred at the sound of birds chirping outside. For a brief moment, I convinced myself it was all just a dream—the confusion, the rain, the odd café. But then I glanced beside me, where Lucas was sprawled on his side, a dried trail of saliva marking his left cheek. Yeah, not a dream. I remembered now—there was only one bed. This must be Angie's room. Where did she sleep?
As I pushed myself up, the wood floor creaked underfoot. The sunlight bathed the room in a golden glow, casting soft shadows over a desk and drawer tucked neatly against the wall. The room was quiet, peaceful—nothing like the chaos of yesterday. Outside the window, the branches swayed gently, leaves fluttering to the ground in a lazy dance. It was strange, this calmness. Yesterday felt so far away, like a different world.
A faint clatter echoed from downstairs. Angie. I stretched, feeling the weight of sleep slowly slip away. Lucas was still knocked out, snoring softly with his mouth slightly open. In the sunlight, his features seemed more defined. He looked...good, like someone who had once been popular or admired. Who was he before all this? Who was I?
A flicker of determination sparked inside me. I had to know.
I made my way down the stairs, each step protesting under my weight. Angie was busy at the counter, her back to me as she worked. The smell of something sweet lingered in the air, and I could hear the faint sizzling from the stovetop. She sensed me coming before I could say anything, turning around with her familiar warm smile.
"Good morning, young man. How was your sleep?" Her voice was light, almost motherly.
I gave a small nod. "It was okay."
"Well, take a seat," she said, gesturing toward a table. "Breakfast is almost ready."
I sat down, my eyes drifting around the café again. The sun was bright now, a far cry from the stormy sky we had trudged through yesterday. Everything seemed...alive. "Did you sleep, Angie?" I asked, watching her move gracefully between the counter and the stove.
She chuckled softly. "Only for an hour or two. The café doesn't close, you know."
"No customers yet?"
"Not until noon, usually. It's still early—just past seven," she said, placing a plate of pancakes in front of me. The smell was comforting, rich with the scent of butter and syrup.
Just then, the sound of footsteps thudded behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Lucas, half-asleep, dragging his feet with a noticeable lack of coordination. His fingers lazily scratched his stomach, and his blonde hair, disheveled and sticking up in every direction, made him look like he'd just lost a wrestling match with his pillow. "Uhh, I'm hungryyy," he mumbled, his voice slurring together.
I stifled a laugh. Despite his towering height and usual confidence, Lucas looked like a sleepy kid, his demeanor making him seem vulnerable and endearing. Angie, her face softening in amusement, shook her head as she prepared another plate of breakfast.
Lucas plopped down beside me, his head hitting the table with a soft, sleepy thud. His arm sprawled out, fingers almost grazing my own as he groaned, "Uhhh, still sleepy," his voice muffled against the wood. I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist. "What a child," I muttered, though there was a hint of amusement behind the words.
Lucas lifted his head just enough to flash a lazy grin, his blond hair sticking up in places. "Oh, we're teasing now, are we?" He propped himself up, elbows on the table, chin resting on his knuckles, his smile widening into something playful but sleepy. "Careful, Max. You might hurt my feelings."
I rolled my eyes, trying to stay composed, but the corner of my mouth twitched. "Am I not allowed to?" I said, my tone flat, though the small spark of teasing might have slipped through.
"And he's back to being grumpy." Lucas' grin stretched wider, and he leaned in, voice dropping to a sing-song tease. "Aww, our little grumpy shortcake is upset?"
The heat crept up my neck before I could stop it. "Did you just call me shortcake?" I shot back, folding my arms across my chest, but I could already feel my face burning. I hated that he could get under my skin so easily, but the lightness in his tone made it hard to take the insult seriously.
We went back and forth, our banter flowing effortlessly. Despite his teasing, there was a carefree energy to him that I envied—a stark contrast to the tightness I usually felt in my chest. Angie, moving around the café, glanced over at us with a soft, knowing smile, clearly amused by our back-and-forth. She didn't interrupt, though, just continued preparing breakfast, her presence warm and steady in the background.
As the last of our breakfast disappeared from the plates, the chime above the café door echoed through the room, drawing my attention. Footsteps followed—a slow, measured pace that carried a kind of casual confidence. A man appeared in the doorway, dressed in a white polo and cap, a large box tucked under his arm.
"Morning, Angie!" His voice was chipper, though his chest rose and fell with the slight huff of exertion as he set the box down on the counter.
Angie turned, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Morning, Mark! Are those my orders?"
"Yep! Fresh stock," he said, patting the top of the box as though he were proud of it. His gaze shifted to us then, curiosity lighting his features. "New faces, huh? First time I've seen you two around here." He shot us an easy smile, then stepped forward, extending his hand.
I hesitated for a moment, but reached out and shook it. "Max."
"Lucas," my companion added, extending his hand across the table with a casual grin that never seemed to leave his face.
"Mark. Town delivery guy." He chuckled, taking a seat at the table without invitation. His energy was comfortable, easygoing, like he belonged here. "So, Angie, how are the new recruits settling in?"
"Same as usual," she said, turning back to the counter with a playful glance in our direction.
Mark's curiosity didn't seem satisfied. "So where did you guys wake up? Somewhere in town?"
I exchanged a glance with Lucas before answering. "In the forest, near hear."
Mark's expression shifted, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if something clicked. "Ah, the Manhattan Theme Park. Been closed for a while now."
"Really? Why's that?" Lucas asked, leaning forward, ever curious.
Mark shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "No clue. When I got here, it was already shut down. Whole place gives me the creeps, honestly." There was something unspoken in his tone—a subtle discomfort that didn't match his otherwise laid-back demeanor.
I glanced at Angie, hoping for more information, but she only shook her head slightly. "Me either. I've never been there."
The conversation lulled for a moment, the clink of dishes and the distant hum of the café filling the quiet. The light spilling through the windows made the moment feel almost peaceful, but there was a tension beneath the surface—a sense that something wasn't adding up.
I leaned forward, lips quirking, needing to press. "So... how did you two end up here? You lost your memories, too?"
Angie sighed softly as she placed the last of the dishes on the counter, her shoulders slightly slumping. "Yeah... I just woke up one day, upstairs in the bedroom. Didn't know where I was. Didn't know who I was."
Mark's smile faltered for the first time, his hand idly fidgeting with his cap. "Same here. Found myself on the side of the road next to my motorcycle. Couldn't tell you how I got there." He let out a small laugh, but it felt forced—more like an attempt to brush off the strangeness of it all. "Weird, huh?"
I nodded slowly, the pieces swirling in my head but never quite fitting together. "Do you deliver outside of town?"
Mark shook his head. "Nah. Just around here. The post office gives me the boxes, and I take them where they need to go." He said it casually, but there was something in his voice—something that made it sound like he didn't question it because maybe he didn't want to.
"How long have you two been here?" Lucas asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the moment.
The question landed heavily, and both Angie and Mark exchanged a glance, a shared discomfort settling between them. Angie looked down, her fingers nervously smoothing her apron. "I... let just say I have been here long enough" she admitted, her voice softer now, almost uncertain.
Mark's usual bright demeanor dimmed. He rubbed at his nose, avoiding eye contact. "Well, I think I've been here around three months?"
A quiet settled over the room, not awkward, but thick with questions none of us seemed to have answers to. Angie cleared her throat softly, breaking the silence with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "How about Mark takes you two for a walk? Might help clear your heads. And... maybe I could use a moment, too."
Mark stretched, his shirt sleeves creasing as he reached upward, revealing strong arms that hinted at more than just lifting boxes. "Sure thing, let's go." He stood up with an ease that suggested familiarity with this routine.
Lucas groaned, his face falling dramatically into his hands. "Ugh, do we have to go outside? My legs are still complaining from that whole forest ordeal."
I smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were always up for an adventure."
He grinned lazily, his head lolling back as he scratched his nose again. "That's your impression of me, huh?"
Mark chuckled, already making his way to the door. "You'll be fine. The fresh air might just wake you up."
Angie's soft laughter followed us as she gathered the plates, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "It'll do you good. Plus, meeting the townsfolk might help jog your memories."
----
We stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the sun brushing my skin and replacing yesterday's chill with a soothing comfort. The gentle breeze carried the faint scent of fresh bread, mingling with the earthy aroma of the town. The streets were quiet, the occasional crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound besides the distant hum of conversation from unseen corners. Mark led the way with a relaxed confidence, his posture easy and familiar with the surroundings.
"This place is… peaceful," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else. The quiet houses with their closed shutters seemed to be in a deep slumber, contributing to the tranquil atmosphere.
"Yeah," Mark replied, his voice light and carrying a note of satisfaction. As we walked, we passed people who greeted us with friendly waves—a seemingly couple biking and waving, house owners nodding in recognition, well especially the guy with dog, they look so cheerful, and children playing joyfully in the playground. It was a typical small-town scene, filled with warmth and life.
I was pulled from my reverie when Mark gestured to a small square up ahead, dominated by a fountain that sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. Water droplets caught the light, shimmering like diamonds before falling back into the pool below. The scene felt almost serene, a stark contrast to the chaos of yesterday. People gathered around, some strumming guitars and singing, children playing with carefree abandon.
"This is where folks usually gather," Mark said with a happy tone, clearly proud of the place.
"Wow," Lucas exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with childlike wonder as he took in the lively scene.
An elderly man, leaning heavily on a cane, called out, "Mark!" His voice carried a hint of authority, and he turned his attention to us. "You two must be new. Welcome to Amberfield!"
The crowd's gaze shifted toward us, and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks. My chest tightened as their eyes seemed to grow bigger and more numerous. I tried to avoid eye contact, my hands trembling slightly as I held them together, struggling to maintain a calm facade.
"Hey, you, okay?" Lucas's voice cut through my discomfort; his concern evident in his tone. He moved closer, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the crowd. I forced a smile, my voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, just… not big on crowds."
Lucas's brow furrowed in concern. "Figured. Want me to stick close?"
"Please," I muttered, glancing at the crowd and hid behind his back. His presence provided a small but significant relief, helping to ease the discomfort.
Mark's playful chatter with the crowd faded into the background as I felt their gazes linger on me. My chest tightened, the weight of their attention pressing down like a heavy blanket I couldn't shake off. My eyes dropped to the ground, my hands trembling as I clenched them tighter.
"Are you alright, Max?" Mark's voice broke through the fog of unease, concern evident in his tone.
"He doesn't like people staring at him," Lucas interjected, his voice softer than usual, trying to ease the moment. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look up.
The elderly man, noticed too. With surprising energy, he stepped forward, raising a hand toward the small crowd. "Alright folks, back to what you were doing," he called out, his voice firm but kind. The onlookers hesitated before resuming their activities, the tension slowly dissipating. The elderly man ushered us to a nearby bench, his steps slow but sure. I followed, grateful for the relief.
We sat in silence for a while, watching Mark join the kids in their game, his laughter blending with theirs. The soft rhythm of the town returning to normal helped ease the tightness in my chest, but I still couldn't shake the strangeness of it all.
"I'm Walter," the elderly man finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of age and wisdom. "You can think of me as… well, something of an elder leader in this town." His words weren't hurried, as if he'd seen enough in his time to know when to let the silence speak first.
I didn't respond, only nodded, while Lucas stayed quiet beside me.
Walter's gaze drifted out over the square before he spoke again, slower this time. "I know you have questions. About this town… about what's happening to us. Why memories are slipping away." He paused; his expression solemn. "And you're wondering—are we just going to feign ignorance forever?"
My lips parted to speak, but the words seemed too tangled in my throat. Lucas shifted beside me, waiting for my cue. I swallowed, my voice finally finding its way out. "Have people ever tried to leave this town?"
Walter's eyes flickered with something unreadable—sadness, maybe. "Yes," he said simply, his tone calm but heavy. "Although, we don't know where they are now."
I nodded slowly, taking that in. Nothing about this place made sense. But there was something oddly reassuring about the way Walter spoke, like he wasn't hiding anything, just acknowledging what we couldn't understand. With a creak of old bones, Walter rose from the bench. "I've got something to show you," he said, looking at both of us. "C'mon, kids. Let's go."
I glanced at Lucas, who gave me a small, uncertain smile before standing. Whatever it was, it seemed important.
We stood at the edge of a cliff, the sea stretching out before us, rhythmic waves softly crashing against the rocks far below. In the distance, the lighthouse stood tall, its light sweeping across the horizon as the sun dipped lower, casting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. The beauty of it all made my breath catch. I placed a hand to my chest, feeling the cool breeze weave through my fingers, like the ocean's own whisper.
A lone bench sat nearby, perfectly placed to witness the day's final light.
"Golden hour," Lucas murmured beside me. His voice was quiet, almost reverent.
I nodded, glancing at him. "Beautiful, right?"
He didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the horizon, eyes reflecting the vibrant colors of the sunset. "Yeah," he said softly, the usual playfulness in his tone replaced by something gentler.
We sat on the bench, and silence fell between us as we watched the sun's slow descent. The sky shifted into deep oranges and pinks, the chill in the air creeping up our sleeves despite the warmth in the sky. Birds darted across the fading light, heading home.
Walter, who had led us here, finally broke the quiet. "No matter how many times I come to this spot, it's always the same sunset that greets me," he said, his voice tinged with awe. "Majestic, isn't it?"
We nodded but stayed quiet, letting Walter's words hang in the air. Silence settled over us again, thick but not uncomfortable, as we turned our attention back to the setting sun. The colors deepened, sinking into purples and dusky pinks, the horizon still glowing faintly. The world seemed to exhale, quiet and still, save for the soft lapping of waves far below.
Just as the last sliver of the sun disappeared beneath the sea, Mark's voice rang out from behind us. "Hey! There you are. Angie's looking for you two—time to head back."
Reluctantly, we stood, ready to leave the peaceful cliffside. But before we could take a step, Walter spoke again, his voice softer now, almost a warning. "This town... it might seem peaceful, even normal. But take some advice—don't lose yourself here. You can start over, forget everything, but never lose sight of who you are."
I frowned. Cryptic words, layered with meaning, hung between us like the fading light. I shot a glance at Lucas, who seemed equally puzzled but said nothing.
As we followed Mark back, Walter's words echoed in my mind, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
---
Back at the café, I ran a towel through my damp hair, fresh from a bath. Angie had given us a set of clothes—simple, but comfortable enough. As I stepped out of the bathroom, I noticed Lucas by the window, his silhouette outlined by the moonlight. His usual carefree demeanor was absent. There was a seriousness in his expression, a weight in the way he stood that I hadn't seen before.
"This town..." he started; his voice low, almost hesitant. "It feels familiar."
I approached slowly, standing next to him, staring out at the stars twinkling in the dark sky. "I know. But it's strange too," I replied, my own thoughts muddled with unease.
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, then scratched his nose, a small tell he had when things got too serious. "We're so lost," he muttered, his voice strained. "It's like... something's been taken from us. Like we're missing something huge."
I nodded, the feeling gnawing at me too. "Yeah, like we're trapped in this place, unsure of where to go next."
He sighed; his gaze still fixed outside. "I guess I try to stay positive... keep moving forward. But deep down, it's hard. Feels like everything's slipping away."
I glanced at him. The vulnerability in his words surprised me. He always seemed so carefree, so light, like nothing could touch him. But here he was, letting that façade crack just a little. It was strange, seeing him like this—serious, reflective. There was something... comforting about it.
"Do you think we should just give up? Start over here and forget everything?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
Lucas turned to face me, his usual grin gone. "Honestly? I don't know. Maybe... if this place doesn't hurt us, if it makes us happy, maybe it's okay to stay. But... it feels off. Like something's missing. What about you?"
I clenched my fists at my sides. "I don't know either. But there's something about this town that feels... wrong. There's a 24/7 café, Angie never sleeps, and everyone's just wiped their memories like it's nothing. It's too strange."
Lucas hummed in agreement, his eyes flickering with the same unease I felt. We stood in silence for a moment, the stars above us indifferent to our thoughts.
A fire ignited within me—something I hadn't felt before. I wasn't content to let this go, to simply accept things as they were. "Lucas," I said, my voice firmer now. "I can't just start over. I want to find out who I was, who I am. I don't want to lose myself more than I already have."
Lucas turned toward me, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. There was something different about this smile—softer, more real. For a moment, he didn't look like the carefree joker I'd known. He looked... serene. And handsome, too.
"Now that's the spirit," he said, his usual upbeat tone returning. "Let's figure it out. Let's find out who we are, together."
I couldn't help but laugh softly, relieved to see him back to his usual self. "You silly dumbo."
He grinned wider. "Oh yes, I've got a nickname now."
For the first time in what felt like ages, I laughed—a real laugh, the kind that starts deep in your chest and fills the air around you. It felt good, almost like a release. Lucas gave me a sideways glance, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of sincerity. "You should laugh like that more often. It suits you."
I felt my face heat up again, the flush crawling up my neck. "Wha—what are you saying?!" I turned quickly, hiding my face as best I could. "Let's just go to bed already." I practically sprinted to the bed, diving under the blankets, trying to bury the embarrassment.
Behind me, I heard Lucas chuckle before joining me, the sound warm and familiar.