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No one remembers what it was like to be born. No one can hold the memory of seeing light for the first time, or taking in their first gulps of air. People are lucky if they can remember anything from their infancy.

A boy was being born on a park bench. Not by a mother, not coming out of an egg... nothing. No one had seen him arrive, no one had seen him form. The boy was just there. An apron was draped over his body like a funeral shroud, and a knife like the bouquet.

No one could be sure what triggered his first inhalation, but it didn't come from his mouth. The apron slid off of his body as a second mouth opened for the first time, probing the air with its tongue like an infant garter snake.

The boy opened his eyes, and they were burned by the sunlight. With a high-pitched shriek he rolled over onto his side, his eyes squeezed shut against the sudden light and the dryness of the chill air.

"What is this?!"

He could've been referring to anything. The feel of plastic on his skin, his blonde hair tickling his nose, the grass on the ground and the blue sky hanging above.

He was asking about it all.

Fifteen minutes had allowed the boy to survey his surroundings, to get used to the idea of things like gravity and breathing... and hunger, of course.

The boy's arms were curled over his head, blocking his sight from the bright day. That strange curling in his stomach was like an empty fog. He didn't like that feeling.

When a voice addressed him, the boy clenched his arms tighter around his head.

"Who are you?" his voice would've been clear and lovely, but it sounded like his lungs were filled with water they were so new.

Well, not exactly water. The boy finally peeled his mouth free and leaned over the park bench, heaving up a few tablespoons of blood from his upper mouth. His lower mouth simply licked his lips.

He looked at the strange, violet-eyed girl with the single mouth. His stomach growled, but he wasn't entirely sure why.

"What do you want?"

The boy found shade to be a nice break from the chilled wind and pale sunlight. He let his muscles relax a little bit: this child was no threat. He may have had no idea where he was, but she was no threat.

"I don't know what being 'alright' is like," the boy mused. "I woke up, and the light burned my eyes. The sun is so bright... I don't think I've ever seen it so bright..."

He raked a hand through his hair and mumbled, "Then again, I don't remember much of anything, except tastes..."

The boy looked up at the dark little girl that had greeted him.

"Ophelia, your name is charming. It means 'helper', doesn't it?"

Was he smiling? It was hard to tell.

"I would introduce myself, but I haven't a clue as to what I should be called. For now, simply address me as 'you'."

The boy had stopped listening, instead he was focusing on the soft fabric covering Ophelia's hand. He reached out with his hands and took it, running his thumbs over the back to feel the tiny bones and knuckles. He started to pull the glove off, tugging at first the thumb and then going down each finger. Finally, he grew impatient and yanked it off. He lowered his head towards it like he was going to give her a chivalrous kiss--

-- but it's hard to kiss someone when you don't have any lips.

Saliva dribbled down his chin as he opened his mouth and started to slowly close his teeth around her index finger.

The boy's teeth were still hovering over the digit. Then, with a wry smile, he pulled it out. His skin, which had previously been a dull gray because of Ophelia's powers, gained back its rosy hue.

"You'd 'like'? You're assuming that I'm a generous boy, Ophelia. But this bakery shop... there are people there, right?"

His lower tongue ran over the tips of his teeth.

"Yes, we should pay a visit there. I would love to have a delicate pastry..." he snickered, before adding under his breath: "...or fresh ribs..."

The boy grunted in regards to the piece of cloth before he inelegantly draped it over her arm. He started to walk ahead, but stopped when he realized that she wasn't following.

"Take my arm?" repeated the boy. He looked at Ophelia, then at his arm, then back at Ophelia. "Don't confuse me, or I might take you literally." He jokingly clung to his arm before walking back over to the butterfly girl.

"I hunger, so let's hurry... it is uncomfortable..."

He held out his bare arm to her.

"I'm not what most people would call chivalrous. If you cannot walk fast enough, I won't hesitate to drag you the rest of the way." Completely blue eyes rolled over to look down at Ophelia. "I assure you, you would prefer that to the alternative."

His lower stomach opened and its tongue lolled out like a dog in the summer.

"I can't stand this--" the boy snarled before promptly plucking up Ophelia around the waist with one arm and breaking out into a brisk walk-- not hesitating even when the girl's feet sometimes dragged against the ground or hit rocks.

"Where is it-- tell me now!"

It was almost like he was flying. Poor Ophelia probably had to shield herself from drool that was flying from both of the boy's mouths like sprinklers (though the lower one definitely had more) and it didn't help that his tongue was lolling out... all in all, the boy looked like a dog sticking his head out of a window.

After an eon of sprinting, the two Curios arrived at their destination.The boy plopped Ophelia down like she was a sack of lemons before smoothing down his hair. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the child before saying, "I wouldn't bother trying to clean yourself up. You'll just get messy again."

The lower mouth snapped its teeth and gurgled in its hunger as the boy opened the door to the bakery.

"After you."