Googling ‘Phantom' was more difficult than it sounded. August had brought his phone from the hospital, and he found a laptop in the bedroom, but they were both locked and he – obviously - didn’t remember the passwords. Considering his phone was virtually unusable without the password, he couldn’t call Ash to ask either. Not that he believed calling him would solve anything. He was probably a different person than he’d been six years ago, but he doubted he changed to the point of trusting other people with his passwords.

He sighed. He might as well search the apartment and see if he’d written them down anywhere. If not, then he supposed the only thing he could do for now was play a guessing game and hope for the best.

He spent the next hour methodically searching every nook and cranny of the apartment, slowly coming to the realization that he didn’t have many possessions. There were almost no personal objects, no trinkets, no unnecessary decoration, even his wardrobe looked empty. And that… it wasn’t like him - not like him from 6 years ago, at least. The way he grew up forced him to hold on to everything, and he’d never quite let go of that habit.

Had he really changed that much?

He did find the passwords, contained in the journal he pulled out of the nightstand. It was almost empty, used mainly for notes on various appointments. The handwriting was his, which dispelled some of the unease he had been feeling.

The thing was… He was well aware of his current vulnerability. He tried not to doubt the people around him too much, but… They could have lied straight to his face about the past and he'd be none the wiser. He had no family to double check things for him, and the few friends he’d made in college were miles away and probably no longer kept in contact with him.

He sighed, copying the password into his phone and anxiously waiting for it to unlock. Once it did, he first checked the applications. There were some he didn’t recognize (6 years was quite a long time in technology years), but they all looked like standard applications one would find on a smartphone, such as YouTube and social media. There were no downloaded journals or anything of the kind, and his contact list contained a single number; Ash’s. There were no saved text messages at all, and the browser history was empty.

After performing a thorough search, he turned the phone off, letting it fall on the bed next to him. Maybe he'd just recently bought it and hadn’t felt the need to transfer any of his old data? But… no matter how many excuses he thought of, it still seemed weird. As did his impersonal, unfamiliar apartment. Even the clothing choices in his closet were a bit unusual… Where was all the color?

He shook his head, trying to convince himself that this was all merely a side effect of losing almost 6 years’ worth of his memories. It was to be expected to feel lost and confused when dealing with something like that, and he should give himself some time to adapt.

It might be best to sleep this off and continue where he left off in the morning, with a rested mind and a fresh perspective. He should get some food before turning in for the night though. His stomach had been complaining for a while now, and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.

Predictably, no food could be found in the apartment, which meant he had to go out. He grabbed his coat and keys on the way out, leaving his phone on the bed, not wanting to be reminded of all the weirdness while on the hunt for food.