He waited for the pain to come, eyes closed tightly, fingers desperately clutching the leather-bound notebook. It was another minute before he realized that something wasn't quite right. He ever so slowly opened his eyes, finding he was surrounded by darkness. He looked at his hands, watching in fascination as the color slowly drained from them, leaving them pale and lifeless. The corners of his vision  blurred with a bright light seemingly closing in on him. He tried to shout, but the words remained in the front of his mind. Someone help, It's difficult to see, and it would be great if I could be someone that's not me, he screamed in his mind, just before his vision faded completely. He didn't understand his choice of words, but they felt oddly natural, like a piece of a puzzle fitting against the ones surrounding it. He lost all consciousness shortly after.

*~*~*

Our red-haired friend blinked slowly, vision blurry with pale white, yellow, and blue. He heard a faint "hey guys, he's awake!" As he attempted to sit up on his elbows. He rubbed his head and groaned softly. He blinked a few times, his vision clearing. The blueish blob turned into a boy, looking to be about his age, slightly chubby, pale, and not that astonishing. No, definitely not astonishing. Our hero's heart definitely did not beat faster at the sight of this person, whoever he was. His hair was yellow. Not just blonde, but yellow. There was no possible way it was natural. His eyes were a vibrant blue. Completely blue. The answer was obviously that this was our friend's own, personal hell. "What the fuck?" He murmured. A boy with dark brown hair and a yellow t-shirt leaned over him, seemingly unfazed. He could hardly make out a blurry Nonchalance written on his shirt. The boy in blue seemed to be concerned, leaning over him with some sort of liquid in his hands. The boy in yellow turned to him. "Nah, Prose, he'll be fine," he said. "Prose," our red friend murmured, before his vision faded to black once again.