Running with you

A name to remember

The second your foot touched the grass outside the Box, every pair of eyes snapped to you.

The boys formed a wide circle around the metal lift, whispering and murmuring among themselves. They looked shocked. Some confused, others suspicious. A few of them just stared like they'd never seen a girl before—which, judging by their reactions, might've been true.

You shrank under their gaze, arms wrapping tightly around yourself. Their clothes were ragged, their faces smeared with dirt and sweat, and their expressions unreadable. You felt wildly, horribly out of place—like prey surrounded by wolves.

"She looks like she's about to bolt," someone muttered.

"No shuckin' way. This has to be a mistake."

"Was she sent here on purpose?"

You caught a glimpse of the boy from earlier—the one with brown hair and stormy eyes. He was standing at the edge of the crowd now, watching you again. Still silent. Still calm.

"Alright, back it up!" the boy who'd introduced himself as Alby barked, stepping between you and the others. "Give her some space!"

The crowd hesitated, then slowly began to back off. The tension didn't leave with them. It just hovered in the air, pressing down like heat.

"You okay?" Alby asked gently.

You shook your head. "No," you whispered. "I—I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am."

"Don't worry," he said. "None of us did. That's how it works."

You blinked at him, confused and scared all over again. "What do you mean that's how it works?"

"We all came up in that Box, just like you. Woke up with no memories, no idea who we were." His voice was steady, but not unkind. "Takes a while to settle in. First thing you should try to remember is your name. Usually comes back quick."

You tried. You really tried.

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused, like maybe the answer was just beneath the surface, buried under all the noise and fear. And then, like a breath of air after drowning—

"Y/N," you whispered, eyes opening. "My name is... Y/N."

Alby smiled, just a little. "Good. That's a start."

"I want to go back," you said. "I don't want to be here."

"No one does," said another voice—dry, flat, and a little mocking.

You turned and saw a boy with sandy-blond hair and a cocky smirk. "Name's Gally," he said. "Let me guess—you think this is a mistake? That you're different?"

"I—" you started, but his glare made you fall silent.

"You're not," he said sharply. "You're just like the rest of us. Lost, confused, and stuck."

"She doesn't need your crap right now," another voice said, cutting through the tension.

You looked—and it was him.

The boy with the eyes.

He stepped forward, standing a little closer to you now. "You're Y/N," he said quietly. "I'm Thomas."

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the chaos around you seemed to still. There was something grounding about him—like you weren't completely alone anymore.

You didn't know why.

But the way he said your name made your chest ache.