Bad things happen bingo, memory loss, with Virgil?🥺
[Chapter 1] - [Next]
"Memory Loss" (Virgil)
TW: amnesia, paranoid and anxious thoughts, mention of (non-concensual) alcohol/drug abuse, panic, swearing.
Word count: 2,475
[Read on AO3]
...
Virgil woke up being enveloped in a warmth he didn’t recognize. He could feel his cheek pressing into a soft pillow that almost swallowed the side of his face. The mattress was sturdy, and the blankets were heavy. Abnormally heavy, as if purposefully made to be weighted. Virgil hadn’t expected to not feel suffocated, but actually comforted, by the weight of them. Which would be weird, if he was comforted at all, because…
…he had no idea where he was.
This didn’t feel like his bed. Or, it couldn’t be his bed. He didn’t remember going to sleep last night. Or… doing anything, last night. When even was last night; what day was it? Could he pass this off as a hangover and foggy brain, despite the fact that getting drunk to the point of not remembering the night before was really unlike Virgil?
With a groan, Virgil turned and sat up, throwing the weighted blanket off his lap. The bed was way too big to fit only himself - the left side of the king-sized mattress was empty. Since when did he have this big of a bed?
Oh, that’s right. This wasn’t his bed.
This… wasn’t his bed?
The gravity of the situation - or rather, the gravity of this unknown situation and environment - finally started to sink in. Furiously rubbing his eyes, Virgil snapped his head from left to right to scan the room. The strange room…
A bedroom. There was a closet on the opposite side, an antique-looking frame used for the doors, and in the corner of the room was a stand of some sort covered with a purple cloth. A mirror?
Why would Virgil have guessed a mirror – he’d never been in this room before.
He hadn’t noticed how he was now clutching the blanket he’d been sleeping under, his muscles tense and breathing shallow. Better to get a sense of his surroundings first, before his mind started spiraling into worst-case scenarios.
Maybe he was just… confused. Yeah. Sometimes one could wake up confused and feel like they were sleeping in a room they didn’t recognize, right? That could happen to anyone.
There, a note. A clue, on the nightstand. Maybe it was a hangover, maybe he was dragged to some party and drugged and ended up in a stranger’s house after they had sex and now they were off to the bathroom – that had to be it. That was the only thing that made even remotely sense. Except for the fact that Virgil would have never considered himself someone to get dragged off to some party with way too many people anyway…
Virgil slapped a hand in his face; he needed to stop thinking, and start sensing. What was on the note?
It seemed to be one of those post-it notes, with the adhesive side already started to wear off. It hardly took him any effort to tear the thing off the oaken wood of the nightstand. Virgil squinted his eyes and blinked, trying to read.
“My name is Virgil Abital.”
…what.
Of course his name was Virgil – he knew that much. He knew he was Virgil, he knew he was in his freshman year of university, he knew he studied Psychology because he took too long trying to choose a major and just picked one that his parents claimed would ‘land him a good job’. He knew he had the fucked-up brain that would explain his interest in the subject, when it came down to a motivation letter or a resume in the future.
He knew he was 19 years old, he knew he lived with… roommates.
His roommates. Was there someone out of them he could call right now? What time was it – he better have his phone charged. Maybe he could at least scour through his phone, his previous texts and search history to figure out how he ended up here.
Virgil threw the blankets off him and sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the note with his name between his thumb and index finger. He was wearing sweatpants and an oversized black shirt he also didn’t recognize. But for now, he’d go along with the running theory that it belonged to his mystery hook-up.
That had to be it, right? Some mystery hook-up. He’d woken up in too nice a bed to be kidnapped or anything.
…oh.
Now that the possibility entered his brain, it wouldn’t leave. Virgil took a deep breath and held a hand to his chest. He couldn’t know whether he was kidnapped… He had to collect data first, before making assumptions.
He started to sound like Logan. He should give him a call – he’d probably be the best to contact to explain what even happened.
He looked over at the nightstand again, hoping to find his phone on a second look… Without any luck. What he did find, was another note. Seemingly on a type of post-it note identical to the first one.
Only this one was ripped in half. With the other half ominously absent. The only thing he could read was “This place is…”.
Virgil breathed out a frustrated groan. Did his one clue to finding out his location really had to succumb to such a cliche? Though to be fair, Virgil started to feel like he was in some sort of film. This all felt so surreal, he’d never –
A knock, no, two knocks on the door. Virgil’s breath stifled and he stared at the door handle, which started to turn. He gripped the mattress with his fingers, not letting his eyes stray from their fixed position to the door. His way out, if needed. Part of him hoped he’d be met with the face of a hot stranger who would confirm his theory, or one of his friends, or –
“...Ah, I thought I heard you wake up.”
Virgil’s heart stopped for a moment, when someone walked in. He was slender built, with mid-long blond hair draped over his shoulder and a port wine stain covering the left side of his face.
It was someone Virgil knew.
Janus stood still in the doorway, holding open the door and smiling in a way that Virgil didn’t know how to feel about. “Good morning,” he said quietly.
“...you?” was all Virgil could mutter. He knew this guy – he had lectures with him. And he knew he hated his guts. There had always been a cockiness in the way he carried himself and even looked at him, that rubbed Virgil the wrong way ever since they happened to sit next to each other on the first day.
“Why… Why are you here?” Virgil managed to ask, unconsciously backing away a little. “Where even is ‘here’? Did you- did you take me here?”
“Stay calm,” Janus said as he raised his hands. He was dressed in a silk black robe and loafers, so domestic it made Virgil feel terribly out of place. He must have never exchanged more than ten minutes of conversation with this dude in total, and now he waltzed in her as if —
“Did we- We didn’t…?” Virgil got a lump in his throat, suddenly feeling both embarrassed and sick to his stomach. He looked down. Along came a daunting realization that if his theory was what happened… there was no way he would have agreed to it willingly. Right? Not with someone like him.
Virgil tensed up and avoided eye contact. Fortunately, judging from the sudden silence of soles shuffling over the wooden floorboards, Janus had taken the hint not to come closer and make himself out to be even more threatening.
“...I know you’re probably confused right now,” Janus spoke again, in a soft and almost gentle tone that simply didn’t match up with Virgil’s impression of this guy. Not that he really knew him, aside from the snobby remarks he’d make in class or the way he’d look at him with disdain or snort condescendingly whenever anyone else made a simple mistake.
“But I promise, this is a safe place, I haven’t – “
“Can you tell me where I am?” Virgil interjected, and hated how his words came out a lot less strongly than he intended. “Is… Is this your place?”
Janus paused for a moment, his brow furrowed as he folded his hands to his chest. He nodded, “Yes, but that’s — “
“How did I end up in your place?” Virgil managed a sneer, despite the fact that his voice trembled. He met Janus’ eyes again, being met with almost a guilty look, which made him feel even more sick. “Janus… how did I end up here? What happened? …What did you do to–”
“I didn’t do anything to you, I swear,” Janus insisted. Again, with that almost pitiful look, that didn’t suit the face Virgil remembered him having. Where was the smirk, where was the vanity, where was the aura of arrogance hanging around him? Why the hell would Virgil have ended up in his house.
Janus sat down on the bed, and Virgil almost jumped off.
“Did you drug me?” he asked, his voice quiet and stern as his gaze fixed on Janus. He looked offended at the question, but shook his head.
“Was I wasted, or something? Did you carry me to your house because I couldn’t walk, or – “
“No.”
“Then what?” Virgil sounded almost out of breath when he said that. Maybe this was part of the everyday student experience, to completely black out and wake up in some stranger’s house. But Virgil was petrified by this loss of control, that there was such a gap in his memory, where anyone could have done anything to him, without him having any memory of it.
He inhaled deeply, biting his lip. “...did something happen? Did something bad happen?”
Janus seemed to move his body forward a little, but when Virgil flinched, he froze again. He looked at Virgil with a weirdly profound somberness, and then looked down.
He took a breath, almost like he stifled away a sob. Whatever happened last night, Virgil started to think it was much worse than a random hook-up he couldn’t remember.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Janus asked him, meeting his eyes again. “...you remember me, don’t you?”
There was a hint of that cockiness in his voice, but it was hidden away behind some other emotion Virgil couldn’t place. He frowned, “Y-yeah, you’re… Janus. We’re in the same class. First-year Introduction to Psychology, right?”
Janus let out an empty chuckle and nodded to himself. “...What’s the last thing you remember?” he repeated.
Virgil huffed, “I-I don’t know. I… I was done with a seminar, it was dark out. I was heading home. Nothing… nothing unusual.”
“What date?”
The question seemed so unnaturally ordinary, that Virgil didn’t process it for a moment. “What?” he said as he tilted his head.
“What date is it? Do you remember that?” Janus pressed.
“...fuck, what does that matter? It’s… like the 15th? 16th of October… right? 2017?” he scoffed. Maybe it was partly out of discomfort, but Virgil raised his eyebrows and gave Janus an incredulous look to let him know that was, as he would often like to say, ‘such a dumb, obvious question’.
Janus breathed out again, almost sounding exhausted. He reached into a pocket of his night robe, to pull out a phone.
“...it’s 2022.”
That was Virgil’s phone. And Virgil didn’t know which of the two things he just witnessed were more unbelievable.
Janus clutched his hand around Virgil’s phone in his hand, and looked at him. “Virgil, the year is 2022, it’s December 4th. This is not a joke.”
As expected from the phony facade he put up in class, Janus was an awful liar.
As if all tension was released from his body, Virgil laughed. “Seriously? Is this a fucking prank to you?”
“Virgil, please, let me explain – ”
But Virgil grabbed his phone to try and tug it from Janus’ grip. “Give me my phone, you asshole. You scared the shit out of me.”
“This is not just some prank, I-”
“You really think I’m that stupid?” Virgil chuckled incredulously and tugged his phone free. “To think I’d let you drag me into whatever hook-up this – ”
He tried unlocking his phone, but paused when he saw the date.
December 4th, 2022.
“...How far did you take this prank?” he thought aloud, ignoring how his heart started to race again. He unlocked his phone, seeing no notifications, and instinctively opened up his photo app.
“Virgil, calm down, and I’ll – ”
“Reprogramming my phone, are you for real?” Virgil added in somewhat of a desperate tone. He would have tried to recover, if it wasn’t for the fact that the photos he scrolled through…
There were dozens, no, hundreds of them. Pictures of himself, pictures of a house, pictures of a town, a cafe, food… and Janus.
Pictures of him and Janus.
“Give me the phone.”
Virgil’s throat went dry, and he closed the app with at least a year's worth of photos until the year 2022, from how far he managed to scroll back. Not that he wanted to look at any more.
“Virgil, give me the phone… I’ll explain.”
His blood ran cold, and everything felt fake. He locked his phone and stared at the black screen, seeing the reflection of his own face… that didn’t feel like his face anymore. He started to lose touch in his fingertips. His breathing shallow, Virgil felt a headache spike in his forehead.
“...what is this?” He looked at Janus and rose from the bed, bumping into the night stand. “Who the fuck are you? Do you think this is funny? This is fucked up. You did drug me, didn’t you? Tell me what happened..!”
Janus stood up as well, and the way he moved towards Virgil made him feel like he was growing larger by the second. He could be looking at a predator, for all he knew. Or didn’t know.
“...I will,” Janus almost whispered, almost as if to stop his own voice from cracking. He had both a tired and desperate look in his face, “Please, Vee, just- just calm-”
“Don’t call me that!”
Virgil shouted, his voice raw and his limbs shaking.
“WHO ARE YOU?! Why are you in my phone? What are these pictures? What did you do?!”
Janus’ arms dropped next to his sides. He breathed in a shuddering breath, and rubbed a palm over the redly marked side of his face.
“...nothing,” he said hoarsely. “I just-... Just… let me explain.”
When Janus looked at him again, Virgil could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. And everything he thought he knew about this man, about the reliability of his own mind, was shattered.
Janus pleaded with him now, “...Come, downstairs. Let’s talk… okay?”