Day was beautiful as boys were sitting in the garden, doing some basic chores such as picking out the weeds out of the pavement or mowing the lawn. Tubbo was the first one to finish because surprisingly all of the passages were well kept so he decided to look at what plants they even had. There were a lot of flowers but in the corner he could see a vegetable and spice garden. Tomatoes were growing nicely, so did scallion and mint, cucumbers and peas were climbing up the little shed. But the best kept were potatoes. It's nice, they would be able to grow something for their dinner on their own. If... they would finally eat something other than instant food due to the lack of time and cooking skills. But maybe they can try? Yes, that's a nice thought. Speaking of food, he was getting hungry. They worked for quite a long time so a little break would be much appreciated. He made his way to the kitchen, leaving Tommy outside, and started looking through the cupboards to find that instant noodle soup they bought yesterday. But they were nowhere to be seen. But they were there just this morning? Or maybe he was so tired yesterday that he imagined buying them... Instead he found some fresh buns and a few jars of home made jam so he just rolled with it.

- Tommy, do you remember if we bought those instant noodles?- he asked just when his friend finished mowing a row and hurried towards the food.

- Yeah, couldn't you find them? They were just above the sink- Tubbo could barely make it out as he was devouring sandwiches like it would be his last meal.

- No, they weren't there. Actually I couldn't find them at all-

- That's weird... by the way, where did you get that? We hadn't got any jam- Tubbo shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich.- Still, good stuff-

Tubbo decided to look through their kitchen again, now sure that he remembered properly what they had bought. Many unhealthy snacks disappeared and the rest was put in different places. Instead in their place appeared some jars containing some home made jams, pickles or even dried mushrooms, all neatly labeled. Tommy must have messed around in the kitchen late at night and doesn't remember. But still, he had to make something for dinner...

- There must be something easy to make with whatever we have here...- he murmured to himself, looking through lower shelves again. Until something hit him in the head. A book. Yes, Tubbo remembered that on the counter was laying a book, but why would it fall?

- "60 easy dishes for beginners"... if this isn't convenient, I don't know what is- thankfully recipes turned out actually beginner friendly and after half an hour he had a small diner ready. Just in time as it seems, as Tubbo heard Tommy turning off the mower. Seconds later he was running ul the stairs, probably as loud as he could. Seeing dinner on the table his face lit up even brighter as he smiled widely.

- You made this? Shit, this is great!-

There was one person observing them. Or what used to be called a person. A man, maybe in his forties, hiding his eyes in the shadow of a brim of his striped hat. He wasn't saying anything, his face still as a mask, but... there was some life in his gaze as he looked at the boys. Lively duo, he must have admitted. A little bit of a hussle, but it was only their second day here. They would soon disappear as all the rest. Man shifted his wings slightly as the louder boy started jumping up and down, trying to clean up after dinner, but being too hyper to actually do so. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't tell what. It's been a long time since he remembered anything. Since he FELT anything. Being trapped in the world between might do that to one. Only one thing remained that told him something about himself and the other two that were roaming around this cursed building. Man didn't see them anymore though, as they stopped being able to leave their separate floors. With every year they were able to do less and less, their speech no longer human, appearances changing to demon like. Soon they will be no more, lost in the abyss of their own hearts.

That one photograph in the small room. The only room that he wasn't so empty in. Before the boys arrived he spent all his time there, forgetting even more, day by day, looking at this one photo endlessly. He just wanted answers of who he was. What connected him to those teenagers from the picture? What was his name?!

W̵̛̱̘̄̇́̈́̅̒̏͊͌͆̐͠H̵̱̅̄̊͑̑͌͂͑̿̐͒A̴̢̨̡̹̱̲̙̠̩̩̠̳̞̠͍̽̎T̶̡̟̻̰̺̞̯̻͚̪̦̲̆͂͠ͅ ̸̧̨̛͚͚͓̥̖̥̳͍̩͚̖̲͚̱̲̜̘͇͈̥͂̀̇͛͐̎̋͌̓͐̃̓͌̈̚͘͠Ỉ̶̡̯̙̱̬̹̪̯̭͈̣͖̹͍̻̩̘͓͎̍̊̓̈́́͘͘͜S̶̢̛̠̭͉̩̼̺͎̲̟̠͇͖̬̟͓̜̫̓̇͊̌͂̑̓͌̾̕͠͠ ̵̡̢̛̛̲̬̲̻̞͎̇̇̃͆͂͗͂̍̏̏̽̈́̇̇̏͆̓̀͋̐͘̕͝͝͝M̸̛̟̻̪̅͒̈́͌̓̐͛͋̕͘Y̶̧̧̛̛̪͔̻̳̪̗͖̹͖͎͕̜̙̫̦̹͈̩̘͇̆̅̓̓̽̒͌̄̏͗͂̌̌͝ ̷͍͓̪̲̓͊͛͌̐͌̐̔͠͠N̶̨̛̜̖̩͔̐͑̎̑̿͂̏̓̀͛̾̽̾̋͛̈́͘A̸̛̪̍̂̐̇͆̽̋̿̀M̶̧̨̮̭̲͈̝̼̗̺̺̝̰̜̓͒̏́̍̇́͒̏͆̓̈́̾̒͆̓̕̚͘͘͝͠͠E̶̡̨̡̨̞̱͔̤̩̞̦̦̖̙̬͓͔̱͙̱̞̙̓̍̍̽̎̉̈́̋̈̃̇̇͋̃̆̆͒̊̊̒͆̕͘͝͝?!

- You heard that?- Tommy looked away from his computer, slightly taking off his headphones. He could swear that he heard something, he just didn't know what. Probably just wind.

Tubbo heard it too, just not as clearly as Tommy would have if he wasn't wearing headphones. He assumed the noize was only a cry of old ceiling, as his gaze fixated on the weather outside. Gray, heavy clouds were gathering on the sky, piling up and flashing, announcing the forthcoming storm. Wind was getting stronger, banging on the windows.

- Tommy, have you locked the shed?!-

- Yeah! It should be fine, but I wouldn't say the same about our electricity- indeed the lights were flickering as if they were about to go out. And so they did a minute later.

- Shit, I didn't save my edits!- Tommy growled, blindly looking for his phone to shine the way.- Tubbo, do you remember if we had candles?!-

- I've seen them somewhere on the ground floor. Shouldn't be too difficult to find though!- the other boy was finally successful in finding his phone as well, but he had to look for a power bank as well, seeing the state of its battery.

But then they heard a crush of suddenly opening windows and shattering glass. It was coming from the library. Tommy went first, slowly, but steady, in case broken pieces would be just behind the door. Tubbo on the other hand wasn't feeling so brave, but followed nonetheless. In the library nothing occurred, but doors to that small room were slightly moving as the wind was blowing, trying to open them.

The room was almost in chaos. Gale blew open the shutters, but thankfully the glass wasn't shattered. Tommy rushed in to close them as fast as he could, just the lock wasn't having it. Closure was old and flimsy, probably why it'd opened in the first place. Tubbo on the other hand was trying to catch all the stuff that was floating around the room - one of the cupboards opened and lighter things were caught by the wind. Mostly papers, but among them was a striped bucket hat. Finally Tommy managed to shut the window with a loud bang and that piece of clothing almost flew into Tubbo's hands. It was old, but very well conserved, the previous owner must have loved it and really care for it. One part of the brim even had some stitching in different colours meaning that it had to be resawn at least once.

Man felt the chill running down his spine as boy's fingertips brushed that hat. He... felt. He forgot how it's like to be touched, how it's liked to feel. He slowly shifted, trying to push the hat towards the kid for him to hold on to it. And as he caught it he felt the warmth of his hands filling him from the inside.

Tubbo smiled at the hat, placing it carefully on the desk next to an old radio in the corner, promising himself that he would wash it in free time. Such a loved thing can't be dusty for so long, can it? As he started picking up the rest of the papers he noticed what was shattered. Framed photo fell from the wall and now Tommy was staring at it intensively. Finally he picked it up and looked at the back of it, as his face lit up in realization.

- Finally! I remember! Fucking shit, that took long enough!- he screamed, half laughing and waving the photo towards Tubbo. Teenager took it from him in pure astonishment and looked at it. Nothing too special, photograph made in sepia of three men, probably father and his sons. But the older man was wearing... that striped hat! Yes, it was definitely the same one!

- You know these people?-

- Can't say I KNOW them, but they were a part of the family. You see that man in the middle?- Tommy tapped the surface almost making an indent.- It's my great uncle. He died when this place burned down almost 30 years ago. Dad told me about him. He was a funny guy apparently. He always gave him candy when grandma wasn't looking-

- And those two?

- If I remember correctly he had two sons, but I don't know much.- he shrugged.- Dad said he was too young to hang out with them and well... not interested. One of them practiced fencing and the second one played a guitar, but I don't know which is which. Pity. I would love having an uncle fencer. He could teach me!- Suddenly he swished his arm back and forth as if he was folding a sword trying to decapitate Tubbo. His friend laughed, pushing him away, but smiled sweetly at the photo.

- They sound nice...- he whispered, looking sadly at the broken glass on the planks.- We'll have to find a new frame for them that's for sure. Can't leave them in this broken one-

- Tubbo, they're...- Tommy wanted to say that they were dead, but stopped. Did it really matter? It was just a frame anyway, there were plenty of them in the living room. And... it could be the only interaction he would ever have with his uncles. Even if it was only replacing frame for their photo.- You know what? You're right. They don't deserve having a broken frame- Tommy smiled, taking the picture out and placing it on the desk.- But not now, we still have to find those candles first. I don't know how long my phone battery will last-

- Sure!-

And then, as the boy picked up the photograph, placing it next to the bucked hat, he felt something. Something familiar as he stared at the back of his photograph.

"Philip, Wilbur and Dave Watson.
Happy father's day!"

He was remembering. Those names. Those boys.

Ì̸̢̼̺̬͓̫̼̚͠͝.̵̛̞̤̪̥̣̜̲̻͈̹̟̬͆̿̂̈́̿̇͒̀͌̎̀́̔̉̒͝͝͝.̶̧̧̢͈̪̜͖͉̜̫̪̱̱̩̥̞̭͍̞̘͙̎̇̇͆͒̓͗͝ͅ.̸̧̬̘̤̤̠̮̜͉͉͓̘͉̯̦̐̀͗͆̂̽̋͆̈́̅́̉̐̌͘̕ ̴̧̨̡̛̛̥̱̦͚͕̰̬̫̯̟̩͖̥̦̝͑̈̓͆̈́̈̋̉̆̂̆̀̉̇̓̉̕͘͝͝I̸͎̻̲͕̤̜͚̊͗̋ ̸̢̛̟̥̠͍̲̟̝̰̠̰̖̘̉̉̀̊́̅̾̎͜͝ȁ̶̡̛̱̝̝̠̰͓̳͓̟̳̮̖̬̘͓̇͆m̸͈͍͎̝̠̮̮͇͔̝̲̬̱̼͎̪̥̂̈̿̋̅͜... M̶͙̪̳̳̱̘̹̉̈̈́̿͊̈́͊̌y̶̡̝̱̗̻͊͛̏ ̵̩̞͚͇̗͕͔̯̘͙̓̀̏̓̌̃͌̑n̷̨̛̠̞̮͓̳͎̱̒̓͌̔͋͆̿͜͝ą̷̩͙̜̜̰̗͖̆́̑̂m̷͎̠͇͎͍͙̐̾͑̈͒͝e̸͙̹̞͉̯̜̫͓̬̒͊ ị̶̭̆͒̊̕ṡ̵̱͆͂ Phil.