Tristan looked like a trapped animal, shrinking on himself as fear and panic intermingled in the depths of his chocolate eyes. He lowered his head as he brought his knees to his chest and encircled his legs with his arms. The child's body began to shake from head to toe, and his breathing gradually turned laborious, quickening and growing louder.
Misha's mind came around when Tristan began to wheeze, and that was when he realized the boy was having a panic attack. Once he figured that out, Misha grew restless, unsure of what to do, and the boy's panic spread to him. The teenager felt his own heartbeat skyrocketing, and it soon drummed at his temples like a fanfare. In this state, he could not think straight.
"C-calm down!" Misha blurted out as his body moved on instinct, bringing the kid into his arms in a gentle hug. Although shakily, he stroked the boy's back up and down as he whispered words of comfort. "Everything is fine, don't worry. I-I'm not angry, just surprised…? Shh, everything is fine."
"Liar!" Tristan sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks like waterfalls. "Don't lie!"
"I'm not lying…!"
"You are!"
The boy sobbed louder yet didn't try to escape Misha's embrace, for in his mind, he knew this might very well be the last time the teenager hugged him. Everything was bound to change because of one small blunder; from now on, nothing would be the same. How could it be when he remembered all his other selves's misdeeds and crimes? He could not be considered an innocent child anymore.
"Tristan!" Misha admonished, cupping the kid's cheeks to force him to look into his eyes. "I'm telling you everything is alright! You have to calm down first. Do I look angry right now?"
"…"
No, Misha didn't look angry. He looked worried…? And maybe a tiny bit fearful, but there was no anger in his eyes, neither was there furry or hatred. Tristan bit his lower lip and shook his head. In the back of his mind, a little voice whispered that the teenager could be pretending; he could be hiding his ire behind a mask. Then again, Tristan remembered Misha was everything but an actor. He always wore his emotions on his sleeves. They had known each other for years, and Tristan had grown used to the open book that was Misha. He could not lie, never. So, Tristan pushed back the little voice from where it came, trying to calm his erratic breathing.
That was easier said than done, however.
"Take a deep breath," Misha instructed, mimicking what he said. "Then release. Retake a deep breath, and release again."
The teenager became a broken record, constantly repeating the same thing until Tristan calmed down enough for him to form coherent sentences. Hiccups were still bothering him, but colors had come back to his livid face, and he didn't seem on the verge of fainting anymore. It reassured Misha a little.
"Do you feel better?"
"…yes."
The hesitation made Tristan stutter and speak in a barely audible voice. He cautiously peeked at Misha, who now didn't seem to know where to put himself. It was written on his face that he was wondering whether or not he should let go of the boy and put some distance between them. Maybe keeping on hugging the child would be better, after all? He didn't want him to have a second mental breakdown. But this position was a little awkward…
The conflicted emotions flashing across the teenager's face stirred up a strangely warm feeling in the pit of Tristan's stomach, and the child decided to help Misha make a choice.
"You can let go now. I'm fine, really."
"Are you sure?"
A nod was Misha's answer.
"Alright, then."
As agreed, Misha let go of the boy and straightened his back, sitting at a more comfortable distance from the child. Not too far away, but not too close either. After which, silence befell the room and stretched for a long time as neither seemed to know where to start.
"Since when did you…?" Misha finally mustered the courage to speak. They might as well start at the beginning.
"Since a few years back," Tristan answered, his voice low and raspy. "Do you remember when we went to the restaurant with Gabriel, Masha, and Yuki? We played at the playground while they talked about whatever you wanted to hide from me. I told you about my weird dreams, didn't I? The ones where I was growing up in a house without Gabriel."
A frown creased Misha's brows. His memory wasn't very good, thanks to the transmigration after-effects. His brain had been quite affected by all the severe fevers he suffered from. His childhood and earlier teenage years were often blurry and hazy, but he seemed to remember something like that. Weren't they building a Lego castle or something? If he remembered right, it was a few days, or maybe a few weeks, after Gabriel traveled in time, and he wanted to discuss the murder of his mother and his first coma with Yuki.
"Wait," Misha's eyes widened in horror, "but you were about five years old then! Almost a toddler!"
Tristan responded with a weak smile.
"I started to see snippets of this man's memories in my dreams long ago. I just never really understood what they were until recently. I thought they were simply nightmares like you see in horror movies and such. They weren't that frequent at first, too, but they became a daily occurrence after the kidnapping."
"You said you didn't understand what they were until recently," Misha gulped, knowing he was about to turn the knife in the wound, "What made you realize they weren't nightmares but memories of past lives?"
Tristan responded with another smile, saddled with sorrow. He pondered over how to answer that question before letting out a sigh.
"After the kidnapping, Angela barely let me out of her sight, and I couldn't visit Jake. The nightmares were growing more, well, violent? My brother was always left in a sorry state in my dreams, and it scared me to death. So, I wanted to meet him. I just wanted to spend time with him and make sure he was alright and not a bloody mess. The nightmares feel so real that it's like experiencing them in real-time. It's like seeing everything from your point of view without being able to do anything to change it. Thoughts flood your mind as if they're your own. Even if you disagree with what you're thinking or doing, you absolutely can't do anything to change the outcome. Though, since they are actual memories, that may be normal in a way."
Shivers started to run down Misha's spine at the thought. He also felt goosebumps spread over his skin as he registered Tristan's way of talking. The vocabulary used and the phrasing were different than usual. More mature and extensive. He also noted that the boy didn't call his mother "mom" but "Angela".
"Well, back to the subject at hand, I went to Jake's room behind Angela's back when she had to leave because of an urgent matter at work. When I knocked on the door, no one answered. There was no one in Jake's room, which was weird, considering he was still in convalescence. It puzzled me a bit, but I didn't want to waste the opportunity, so I decided to go in anyway. After a few minutes, he was still not back, so I thought: why not surprise him?" Tristan paused to let out a wry laugh. "I'm still a child, you know? My train of thought isn't exactly like an adult, and I'm childish. I can try to act like an adult, but in the end, I'm not."
Tristan shook his head in derision, letting the underlying meaning sink into Misha. Tristan was a boy who had memories of his past adult lives, but his mental age wasn't affected. He was dealing with a tremendous amount of knowledge being pushed and packed into his brain like a child would. His mind was stuck in a weird dichotomy, transforming him into something that wasn't quite a kid but also not exactly an adult. It was a miracle he hadn't gone crazy.
"All that to say that, at the time, I snuck under Jake's bed and waited for his return. But he came back with the whole group: you, Gabriel, Masha, Stephan, and Yuki. I kind of missed the chance to make myself known, and I was afraid to get scolded, so I stayed hidden."
The colors were suddenly drained from Misha's face as realization struck. There was only one time when the six of them gathered all at once in Jake's room during his convalescence.
"Then, you started to talk about time-traveling and past lives. That's when I realized these dreams were most likely memories of past lives."
Tristan forced himself to smile, but tears were welling in his eyes again.
"It was a hard pill to swallow, you know?"
Misha opened his mouth but closed it almost as fast. He didn't know what to say, so he chose to say nothing. Tristan knew. He knew everything, and he had been handling the aftermath alone for months. He had heard the whole story, and he also had heard the brother he loved so much admit being afraid of him and not wanting to be close.
How hurt was the boy after hearing such things…? Misha didn't want to think about it. But even if he didn't want to, he still could not help but think of Masha and how he'd feel if she were to pronounce words similar to those that had left Jake's mouth that day. Just thinking about it was enough to put him on the verge of tears.
"After that," Tristan shrugged, snapping Misha out of his thoughts, "I tried my best to make Jake understand that I love him in this life and that I'd never hurt him. But it's not like the adult memories I have are useful to me. They're the memories of an unfeeling monster, and that's not who I am. Or at least not who I currently am. Anyway, I don't really know how to show affection. My parents aren't exactly role models, so I just went with what people usually do: hugs."
And then, Misha finally understood why Tristan was desperately clinging to his brothers whenever they were together and why his clinging tendency grew exponentially as of late. It wasn't because of the kidnapping incident and the fear it instilled into him; no, it was because he knew Jake was wary of him. He just wanted to make him understand that he was harmless.
"But I think doing that hurt him more than anything in the end. Maybe I should have kept my distance instead, no matter what I actually wanted."
"Of course not!" Misha instinctively barked back, but almost instantly, he felt like a knife stabbed his heart when his gaze met Tristan's. Who was he kidding? He had been avoiding the boy's touch since learning what he had become in his past lives. These words he had just spoken were empty, and Tristan knew it.
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Edited by Clozed! ♥
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