Tristan sat in the space between Jake's crossed legs, a pouty look on his face. A red bump on his forehead drew the eye; it was almost as big as an egg. The Frisbee had hit hard, and the skin was slightly torn. Thankfully, it had only bled a little.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Jake asked softly, brushing a few strands of hair behind his little brother's ears to get a better look at his forehead. "It's quite swollen."
"I'm fine," Tristan mumbled as he munched on a cookie. He turned his head, escaping Jake's hands, and leaned his back against his chest. "It's my fault for not paying attention, anyway."
Jake coughed, then glared askance at Stephan. If anything, it was that guy's fault! Doing whatever he wanted in public…. Not like it'd be any better in private, but in the bedroom, his antics didn't distract anyone and only annoyed Jake. As he thought of this, Jake narrowed his eye a bit more. But to the accusing glare, Stephan responded with an innocent shrug of his shoulders. He dared to smile, even.
"I'm sorry," Misha's voice resounded, and Jake shifted his gaze to the teenager. He was sitting a meter before them, his shoulders slouched and his head lowered. "I should have been more careful when I threw the Frisbee."
"It's not your fault!" Tristan shook his head. "I shouldn't have looked elsewhere while playing. You did nothing wrong! And it doesn't even hurt, so…."
"…."
No one believed the kid. The bump was too swollen and red for it not to hurt. Although Tristan managed to restrain himself from crying, tears still welled up in his eyes. He crouched and held his forehead, hissing in pain—not to mention the loud thud that resounded far and wide. The lie was obvious and only served to tug at Misha's conscience. He'd feel less bad if Tristan was angry. How was he supposed to react when the wounded was smiling and trying to lift his mood?! He couldn't even apologize properly, for the kid kept saying it wasn't his fault! Yes, it was an accident, but still! It could have been avoided, and—
Rushed footsteps interrupted Misha's train of thought. He instinctively turned to his sister, who was sprinting toward them. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her tank top so damp that it stuck to her waist.
"No one has any ice to spare nearby," Masha said between two gasps. She had been running around searching for someone with a cooler, wanting to ask for ice to help reduce the swelling. Unfortunately, she came back empty-handed. Most people who were picnicking had packed sandwiches in a basket, just like them, and hadn't brought a cooler.
"If I remember correctly, there's an ice cream shop close to the main street," Vanessa raised her hand. "It's a fifteen-minute walk from the park, I'd say. How about paying it a visit? I'm sure the staff won't mind giving us a bit of ice if we buy a few ice cream cones."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Isaac nodded. "And, honestly, I'm craving something cold after all the running we did, especially in this hot weather. It won't do us any harm to relax and cool ourselves."
Thus, the group cleaned up the place and folded the blankets. They decided to pass by Gabriel's car to put everything in the trunk and walk to the ice cream shop. Because Jake was a little worried, he offered to give the boy a piggyback ride, and Tristan gladly accepted. He climbed onto his brother's back at lightning speed and pressed his cheek against his shoulder, a broad smile on his lips. He couldn't help but giggle, drawing out chuckles from everyone—Jake included.
.
.
"Here, hold it against your forehead," Jake said, gently pressing a makeshift bag of cloth filled with ice against Tristan's forehead. "I'll tell you when to bring it down."
The boy obediently nodded and Jake ruffled his hair before shifting his gaze to Gabriel, who was currently paying for everyone's share. It made some unhappy in the group (like the Lesskov siblings), but he couldn't care less and pulled the credit card out. He also left a generous tip; the staff had been kind enough to give them not only ice blocks but also a clean dishrag to wrap the ice. And if Gabriel hadn't intervened, the old lady would have given the kid a slushie free of charge. She seemed to have a sweet spot for children.
After everything was paid, the group moved to a table on the terrace and sat to eat. They laughed and talked, and time seemed to tick faster than usual. It made Jake unconsciously wish the day wouldn't end and smile. But that smile froze when his gaze landed on the pedestrian street before him. He forgot to breathe, and his ears started to ring. His brothers' and friends' voices grew distant, becoming background noise.
"….Jake? Jake! Are you alright?" Tristan tugged on Jake's shirt. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
The words were like a cold shower, and Jake gulped. He smiled at his brother, but the smile was visibly forced. "It's nothing. Just a small stomach ache. I'm going to the toilets for a minute." That being said, he dashed out the terrace. There were public toilets at the end of the pedestrian street, and he went toward it.
The familiar figure had also walked in this direction.
Jake zigzagged between the crowd, tailing the person. His heartbeat drummed at his temples, his throat going dry. He knew they shouldn't be here, not in this timeline. But he could never mistake them. Even in a sea of people, he'd always spot them instantly. It wasn't wise to run after them—that too, he knew—but his legs had moved on their own. He had to be sure his eye wasn't playing tricks on him.
The figure turned into an alley, and so did Jake. He followed them inside until he reached the end. It was a cul-de-sac, yet there was no one in sight. All he could hear was the distant noise of the crowd and his own breathing. He frowned and looked up, but there weren't folding stairs they could have used to escape. And in the alley, there was nothing to hide behind, not even a trash bin. So, where did they go?
'Did I really hallucinate?' Jake thought, unsure what to do. But just as he was about to turn around, a husky voice traveled to his ears. It sent a shiver crawling down his spine, and his whole body stiffened.
"You know," it said, "the smart move would have been to pretend not to see me."
Jake's shoulders tensed. The voice was coming from behind him. It was close enough to make him feel cornered, and his breathing grew ragged. Still, he slowly turned around to face the man, who stood a few meters away.
He seemed to be in his early forties, his chocolate eyes shining with cold mirth. A smile lingered on his lips, and his clear-cut facial features appeared soft. He had a gentle expression on his face, and his slightly curly brown hair fell on each side of his forehead. He was taller than Jake by a few inches. His shoulders were a little broader too. He was wearing casual clothing, denim jeans with a black shirt.
The air was knocked out of his lungs, and Jake stared at the man in disbelief. He hadn't recognized the voice a few months ago since he hadn't heard it in a long time, and his memory was only that good. After more than 60 years, it was normal to forget.
"It's impossible," Jake heard himself say.
"Are you doubting your eye?"
Jake pinched his lips and didn't answer. But his mannerism gave him away; he couldn't believe what he saw. It was just nonsense. A hallucination or a doppelganger was more likely.
"Then maybe you should take a closer look." The man chuckled before taking a step forward, and Jake stepped back. He retreated until his back hit the wall. However, the man didn't stop and closed off the distance until only a few inches remained between them. He stretched the collar of his shirt to show the crook of his neck. "Does that help convince you?"
His eye seemed about to fall off its socket as Jake stared at the ugly scar. It was a dog's bite mark, the teeth well-defined. The wound had happened in the man's childhood, when he was brought to his mother's friend's villa. His older brother who should have watched over him hadn't, and he went to play with the hound dogs kept in the stable. The hound dogs were aggressive, trained to kill rabbits and other small animals, and he was thus bitten after he tried to pet them. It had been a bad injury that needed stitches and special care as the dog's teeth had scratched the clavicle bone. The bleeding had also been quite severe.
This wound hadn't occurred in this timeline because Gabriel had been around and hadn't let Tristan in the stable. Not like Jake would have allowed the boy to go anywhere near the dogs this time. But his two past lives were different. His little brother had almost been bitten to death due to his negligence. Tristan lucked it out. A bit to the left, and it'd have been an artery. It was something Jake could never forget.
"It's been a while," the man smiled, letting go of his collar. "Big brother."
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Edited by Clozed! ♥
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