A shiver caused Hutch's consciousness to return to him. The air was freezing and the ground beneath him was frigid, and wet. He was face down, and knew he had to get up, but every part of him hurt. He was confused and struggling to stay conscious. He didn't know where he was or how long he'd been there, but as another shiver pulsed through him, something warm fell over his body.
His sensations were limited. Everything he heard sounded as if it was filtered through water. He heard voices but couldn't make them out. He knew he was being moved, rolled from the cold into the warm, but couldn't tell where anyone touched him, as he felt every sensation through his entire body. And in the few brief moments, in which he managed to open his eyes, he saw small white dots against a black backdrop and two hazy blobs blocking them out from time to time. Nothing was in focus. Nothing was clear. It was fuzzy, heavy, and dark.
He couldn't keep his eyes open. He felt compelled to sleep. He felt as if he were floating, inside some nightmarish reverie. If the gods could be so kind, he prayed they would let him die, because living for Hutch was now a torment, he no longer wished to endure. He'd left Kahlala once again, with a vague excuse and a promise to return, knowing he'd done the right thing, even though it must have seemed completely wrong to her.
The next time Hutch awoke, he found himself in a familiar space. He recognized the color of the walls, and knew he was back in the bedroom in the Salvador family home. At first, nothing ached or hurt, but that changed the moment he tried to move more than just his eyes. As he sat up in his bed, his muscles ached under the strain and what little strength he had gained from resting, was immediately sapped away.
His memories were foggy, but he could have sworn it was just night, yet the light filtering into his room through the gaps in the curtains, told him it was well into the day; near eleven a.m. by what the clock read.
Stranger still was that the curtains were dark blue, when he knew them to be light grey, and his duvet cover was black, even though he had changed it two days previous for a blue and green plaid. Everything just felt slightly off. From the position of the artwork on the walls, to his bed, to the furnace turning on when last he knew it was the middle of summer.
Pushing back his covers, he swung his legs out of the bed, and froze as his feet touch the floor. Not from the pain radiating through his muscles or the unfamiliar pair of black boxers he was wearing, or even by the bandage wrapped around his right hand, but it was the sight of his own legs that caused him to stop moving. They were nothing like he knew them to be. They were scrawny, narrow, and weak. They weren't the legs of a man who ran every morning. Nor was his abs or chest or arms evidence of anything more than daily use and poor diet. Forcing himself to stand, he made his way to the window and threw open the curtains. Small piles of snow lingered in the shadows beneath the naked trees and under the lush green bows of the mighty pines. While brown grass basked in the light of the winter sun, chilled by the ice-cold temperatures that attempted to freeze it overnight.
"This can't be happening," Hutch muttered as he caught sight of his reflection on the glass. His hair was a mess, long and unkept. His cheeks were gaunt. His eyes hollowed, and not a sign of a whisker was anywhere about his face.
He felt sick at the thought of what this meant. He feared the possibility that sprang into his mind and refused to believe that it had happened. Ignoring the pain in his legs, he made his way to the closet and pulled open the door. Inside was a spare set of bed sheets on the upper shelf next to a spare pillow, and a row of empty, plastic, coat hangers, along a metal rod. His suits were gone. There were no belts, no ties, pocket squares, or tacks. Not a single set of cufflinks, or pair of shoes to be found. It was all gone. Moving over to the dresser, he found a grey track suit had been left for him, folded up next to a towel with a toothbrush set on top, and a note that read, 'Come downstairs when you're ready. -Cas,' beside it.
Searching the drawers of the dresser yielded the same results, further confirming his suspicions, as they too were empty.
Getting dressed took more effort than he wanted to give. His entire being felt worn. He had been stripped of his strength, as well as his emotional depth. He was numb, and exhausted. He wanted to sleep but couldn't bring himself to lay back down. As he stepped out into the hall, it was longer than it had been before, with more doors. Things had changed, yet again, and that could only mean that things were as he feared. He was seventeen once again, and Casimir had most likely also been sent back to the day he had first returned as well.
In the bathroom, there was no denying the truth of what he saw in the mirror, and after he was finished with his typical routine, he made his way towards the stairs. He could hear the signs of life emanating from below, and cautiously made his way down. He recognized the sweet voice of Celina, her laughter like a contagious melody spreading joy to all that heard it. He could make out the deep wisdom, Casimir's carried, and Clara's was unmistakable to his ear, even mixed amongst the others he didn't know.
Hutch was completely uncertain of what to do when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Looking at the door, if he'd had shoes and a proper jacket, he imagined that he would have slipped out and disappeared before anyone knew he was there, not wanting to interrupt what sounded to be a happy family moment. Yet, given his current circumstances, he thought it best to slink back up to the guest room to get more sleep, where he could wallow in his own misery without it disturbing them. But as he glanced down at the note dangling between the fingers of his bandaged hand, the thought of climbing the stairs behind him became a daunting task, leaving him to continue forward towards the kitchen, wanting to know, more than anything else, what had become of his dear friend.
Stepping around the corner, he saw the family at the dining room table, the conversation dying as Casimir noticed him and slowly rose from his chair. He was older than before. The familiar white stripes in his hair now starting to make their appearance. To his right, a grown man, a spitting image of Casimir's younger self, he had no doubt was Julian. Across the table, Clara sat prime and proper, not a hair out of place, eyes filled with silent wonder, just as he remembered her from the day before. Beside her was Celina. Her smile was still bright enough to force even the darkest clouds away. Her slender form, and golden locks, remained unchanged. And across from her, a young man, with a young woman beside him, who was clearly the youngest of the lot, and the only other blonde at the table.
As Casimir made his way around the table, the tension became palpable in the air. No one seemed to want to speak first, because no one seemed to know what to say. But words weren't needed between Casimir and Hutch, given all that they'd been through to end up back at this point once again. And the moment he was within arm's reach, Hutch found himself pulled into Casimir's embrace. He couldn't hold his head up, as Casmir hugged him, pressing his brow into his shoulder, and grabbing tight to the back of his shirt to help him stay on his feet. The weight of the moment was crushing. His heart was breaking, and yet no tears came to his eyes. No emotion found its way to the surface. Casimir was alive. He was back in his home, with his family. He was aging, and he was safe, and even the sense of relief that knowledge should have brought to him, managed to escape. He knew, deep down, somewhere inside, he was glad to know that everything for Casimir had turned out well. He was even happy for Julian, who seemed to be as normal as everyone else. But the last thing he wanted was to pretend as if he were okay. He was broken, and in an unimaginable amount of pain.
"Everything's going to be okay now," Casimir whisper to him, as he hugged him a bit tighter, helping him to stay upright. "It's all going to be okay."