Chapter Text
Toby’s hoodie was in the kitchen sink, cold water running over the stains as Brian lingered nearby with hydrogen peroxide in hand. Brian was used to cleaning blood out of clothes, he did it a lot back when he was “Hoodie,” as the viewers of Marble Hornets called him. What a truly creative bunch! But he had never had gotten this much blood in his clothes, and was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to get it all out. Brian used to get minor scrapes or cuts, which only left small stains behind. And good lord, this much blood meant the kid had definitely killed something — or rather, someone.
Tim had come up behind him, letting out a heavy sigh and put a hand on Brian’s shoulder. Brian could tell that the touch was meant to be comforting, but he could feel the tension in Tim’s body that he seemed to be trying to hide. Brian knew Tim though, he knew the other man was on edge. Brian brought his hand up to cover Tim’s, silently reassuring the other man. Without even speaking more on the subject of Toby, they both seemed to know that he was involved with The Operator, whether the kid knew it or not.
They both had the notion that they would finally be free of that mess. Free of The Operator, free of the turmoil that Marble Hornets had put both of them through, especially Tim. Tim who had suffered from this much longer than any of them had, from such a young age. Now knowing that The Operator may be back, and that Tim may have coincidentally ran into the entity’s newest victim, they were both uneasy.
They had both been very careful, most of their time was spent on their land and they only went out if necessary. They didn’t want to spread “the sickness” to innocent people. But somehow Tim had stumbled upon Toby, who also seemed to be infected with “the sickness.” They had been free of this mess for a little over a year, now. But Brian was beginning to think that maybe they were never free.
Brian reluctantly pulls his hand away from Tim’s to turn off the faucet. He lifted Toby’s hoodie from the sink and wrung out the excess water, then gently laid the fabric out on the counter. Brian was very careful during this process, not wanting to accidentally ruin the kid’s hoodie. He carefully dribbled the hydrogen peroxide onto whatever was left of the stain, gently scrubbing it with a wash cloth.
“So what happened, Tim? How’d you find him?” Brian started carefully, deciding not to look at his friend. Only God knows that when he looks at Tim, he loses focus on whatever he was trying to do before. Brian didn’t want to think about that though, and tried to focus on removing the stain.
Tim sighs behind him, removing his hand from Brian’s shoulder to instead stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way while Brian addresses Toby’s hoodie.
“I was driving back home from the gas station. I pulled over about 20 minutes away from the house ‘cause someone had dumped chairs in the ditch. They were shitty, I didn’t grab ‘em. Anyway, I saw the kid runnin’ around like a madman, but he froze up when he noticed me. Like a deer.” Tim said, looking up to Brian’s face, who had gave in and turned his attention to Tim. With his friend looking at him now, Tim continued. “Toby told me he didn’t remember what happened, I don’t think he’s lying. I checked him over for injuries, he was fine, and impulsively brought him back home.”
Brian’s lips pressed into a thin line, processing the story carefully as he averts his gaze back down to the fabric. Memory loss, how wonderful. Brian is sure that Tim was very fucking miserable when he heard about this, considering the significant amount of memory loss he had gone through as “Masky.” Again, another very creative nickname from viewers of Marble Hornets. There was no doubt in Brian’s mind that this was related to The Operator, everything was leading back to that entity. The memory loss, the blood, how the kid stumbled upon Tim specifically. Maybe Brian really did die and go to hell.
“This is just wonderful. So what, is he our responsibility now? He clearly killed someone, he can’t just go back to wherever he came from. Actually, the kid allegedly doesn’t even know where he came from.” Brian said, his eyebrow twitching a little. “We can’t just turn him away, especially if this is related to that fuckin’ entity.”
“I don’t fucking know, Brian. Maybe while he was running around like a headless chicken, he fell down and hit his head? It may not have been The Operator, it may be just a normal concussion. Maybe it’s shock? Who fucking knows?” Tim threw his arms up in exasperation. “Maybe all that blood is from a stupid bear and he didn't kill anyone, maybe The Operator isn’t involved!”
“Okay, alright. Let’s both calm down.” Brian sighs, “I’ll check his head more thoroughly when he’s done in the shower, see if he’s hurt his head and we can ask him questions. If he doesn’t remember, we can ask again in a few days. If he’s got a concussion, he may regain some memories after a while.”
Tim contemplates the idea for a moment before nodding in approval, putting his hand back on Brian’s shoulder, another attempt at comfort and maybe an apology. Brian couldn’t tell who Tim was trying to comfort though, exactly. Probably himself, but Brian didn't mind.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good start.” Tim says, easing up a little.
Tim’s hand fell from Brian’s shoulder and moved to the pocket of his jacket, digging around for a moment. Brian seems to realize what Tim is reaching for and puts a hand on Tim’s bicep.
“Wait, how many have you had today?”
“One.”
“Try again.”
“…Three.”
“Jesus Christ, man. ‘Trying to quit,’ my ass. One more and then you give them to me.”
Tim huffs and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, but a small smile pulls at his lips despite the scolding. He lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips and set the pack and lighter on the counter next to Brian. Brian grabs them, tucking them into his own pocket. He grabs Toby’s hoodie and moves into the laundry room.
While Brian is putting Toby’s hoodie in the washer, he notices the boy exiting the bathroom from across the hall. Toby was now wearing borrowed clothes from Brian that were a bit big on him, and he was attempting to dry off his wet mop of hair. Brian started the washer and stood up, turning his attention to the teen.
“Hey, buddy. You up to talking with us?”
“Um, shuh- sure.”
Toby gazes down at the notebook that was in front of him and bites at his lip. Tim had told him to write down what he remembers, which honestly wasn’t very much. He wrote: Tobias Erin Rogers, 17, Tourettes, ADHD, CIPA. There was more though, he knew there was. Why couldn’t he just remember? He had forgotten everything, feeling like he was literally born yesterday. The thought was almost amusing and nearly made him smile, almost, but he knew he had mysteriously forgotten 17 years worth of memories. That was scary. That was a lot of time that he had lived and magically forgotten.
Brian was stood over top of him, checking his head for any signs of injury or bleeding. He ruffled the boy's hair after a few minutes of thoroughly searching for injuries and stepped away, sitting across from him at the small dining table. “Well, you seem to be fine. Are you nauseous at all, does your head hurt? We are trying to figure out if your memory loss is the result of a concussion.”
Toby shook his head. “Um, I don’t feel nauseous.”
“Okay. Headache, then?”
Toby shook his head again, carefully turning the book and pushed it towards Brian. The man read over what Toby wrote and narrowed his eyes, letting out a small curse. “Damn, okay. Well this just sucks.”
“What d’ya mean?” Tim asked, dragging in one of the chairs from the porch and sitting with Brian and Toby at the table. There had only been two chairs at the table originally.
“Toby has CIPA. I forgot the full name of the disorder, but the kid basically can’t feel pain. So, if he was injured, it’d be a lot harder for us to know.”
“What the fuck?”
Brian grunts. “Mhm, but I don’t think he fell. No signs of injury, he’s coherent, he’s speaking well, doesn’t seem dazed.” Brian leans forward and points at the page, looking at Toby. “Is this all you can remember?” Toby nods, and Tim and Brian exchange a glance.
Toby clicked his tongue and gazed down at his lap. He’d forgotten almost everything, his whole life. He knows he’s seventeen, but he doesn’t know anything that happened in those seventeen years. He’s completely forgotten. How does someone just forget their entire life? Toby must have hit his head, or maybe he has some memory loss disorder he doesn’t remember. He has three disorders he knows of, so what’s one more? That must be it. If Brian doesn’t think he hit his head, he must have amnesia or something.
That notebook that Toby had written in was his now, Brian said he could keep it. Write in it if hr ever remembered anything from his old life. It was something new that Toby could hold on to that wasn’t a weapon. Toby knew he was going to hold on to this book as tight as he could, he was going to bring it everywhere and protect it with his life. Toby didn’t want to risk losing something that was so important, something that held his memories. What if he forgets again? He wouldn’t let that happen. He won’t let anyone take away this book, even if they had to rip it from his cold, dead hands. Well, his dead hands. Toby doesn’t know what it feels like to be cold.
Toby’s shoulder jerked as he reached out, grabbing his notebook and pulling it back towards himself. It was a nice looking thing, probably an impulsive purchase without having a real plan for it. The cover was made of leather, with cool swirly designs that Toby really liked. He bit at his lip again, setting the book in his lap.
“Um, you guys ha- have been really nice to me. Thuh- Thank you.” Toby said suddenly, peering up to look between the two men.
Both Brian and Tim looked at him, then at each other. Toby briefly wondered if they had some sort of freaky telepathy with each other, they seemed like the type of friends to just understand what the other is thinking.
After they had their silent conversation, they both look back at Toby. Tim smiles, and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. “It’s no problem, kid.”
Toby’s chest tightened as he thought about how kind these guys were to him despite the fact that they were basically strangers. He had only met Tim not even three hours ago, and then Brian a half an hour after that. They had given him clean clothes, a notebook, a place to stay, they let him use their shower, and the list goes on. Toby found himself wanting to be on his best behavior during his stay here, he wanted to pay them back somehow. It wouldn’t be fair to mooch off of them.
He didn’t have much to offer — no money, no valuable items except maybe his hatchets — so not being a pain in the ass was the next best thing, he supposed. That wasn’t really enough, though. Tim and Brian already gave and offered Toby so much. There had to be something they wanted in return, right?
“Is- Is there anything I can do to repay… repay you guys somehow?” Toby asked.
Both men are quiet for a moment and then Brian opened his mouth to respond, but Tim cut in first. “You know what, yeah. You can help me cut some wood at the end of the week and help Brian in the garden.”
“You- You guys ha- ha… fuck. Have a garden?”
“Yep. Tomatoes, carrots, potatoes… Uh, what else, Brian?”
“There’s raspberry and blackberry bushes all around the house and a fig tree outback. This year I’m going to try pumpkins.”
Cutting wood and gardening didn’t sound too bad, Toby could put good use in his hatchets. Yeah, this could work. Toby could help them with other chores too, if they asked. He almost felt excited to be able to help them out, chopping wood and gardening seemed so normal compared to how he lived before. Wait, but he doesn’t remember what happened before. How different was his old life compared to his new one?
Maybe he had a family. A mother, father, brothers and sisters. He could feel that all of this was so new, so surely his old life wasn’t like how it will be now. Or maybe the amnesia was making everything feel new. Maybe he never had a family, he doesn’t know.
Toby must have been spaced out for a while. Before he could think more about that particular thought, Tim—who was now standing—patted his shoulder again in an attempt at comfort and had a knowing look on his face. “Were you listening, kid?”
“Um, no. I’m- I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, kid. Anyway, I’m going to share my room with Brian and you’ll get his old room. Does that sound good?” Tim asked. Brian stood up next to him and gestured vaguely to the hallway. Tim nods, seeming to understand what Brian meant – again, the freaky telepathy they seemed to have! – and Brian left to go to what Toby assumed was his room. Or was it Toby’s room now?
After dinner, the older men spent the rest of that evening moving Brian’s things into Tim’s room, Toby helping occasionally when asked. Brian brought most of his belongings into Tim’s room, leaving behind some of his smaller clothes in the dresser and closet for Toby to borrow. Tim had also given Toby a couple flannels to keep warm. They would be a bit big on him, but he didn’t really mind.
The room Toby was staying in was smaller than the other, according to Tim, but Toby was thankful nonetheless. There was a dresser pushed under the window, a bed in the corner, and a huge closet with sliding doors that took up most of the side wall. It was a nice room with a comfortable atmosphere and Toby was almost excited to fill the room with trinkets and his own things, but Toby didn’t know if he was staying long enough for that to happen.
Toby sat on the edge of the bed and let out a huff. The mattress was more plush than Toby was expecting and there was a soft, navy blue duvet that covered said mattress. Earlier, Tim had tossed a red, fleece flannel blanket on Toby’s bed and insisted he used it on colder nights. “The duvet won’t be enough to keep ya warm, it gets really cold out here.” Tim said firmly, and Toby didn’t argue.
The teen changed into an old shirt with a band name he didn’t recognize and a pair of sweatpants. Toby made his way into the kitchen and to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. The front door was cracked open, he can hear Tim and Brian talking outside. It didn’t seem like a serious conversation, because Toby heard them both laugh from time to time.
Toby finished washing the dishes and set them on a drying rack before walking out to the porch. Tim and Brian didn’t pay him any mind, chatting away about work that needs to be done around the property. Toby sat down on the front steps, resting his chin in his hand. It was nice out here, there were crickets and a few fireflies scattered about. The occasional breeze that ruffled his hair and the surrounding trees, it was really nice.
Maybe, if the world decided to be kind to him, he could get used to this.