Chapter 12
Kyle
Kyle: Please, I hope you don't do anything stupid.
Lily: What?
Kyle: OH SHIT, I forgot I'm not blocked yet.
Lily: What do you mean?
Kyle: Nothing.
The hospital gave me two days off from school and work, but the next day I felt like running. I was in such a good mood that it was the first thing I thought of doing when I woke up early in the morning.
It was strange waking up in my childhood bedroom.
The running trophies lining the shelves, the faded posters of NBA stars on the walls, the twin bed that felt too small for me even though this teenage body fit it perfectly.
For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to process that this was real.
I was eighteen again. My body was whole, unbroken by years of stress and pressure. The smile on my face felt much bigger than I wanted to admit. This still felt so unreal, and at the same time, I never felt so full of life.
I slipped out of bed quietly, got ready, and walked outside the house, careful not to wake anyone else in the process.
The January air was crisp and cold despite living in a coastal area, but it also felt purer than ever. I stretched briefly, then set off down the street, my feet finding the rhythm they'd once known so well.
I ran so much that I felt liberated, energetic, and happy.
My knees were working perfectly, and that put me in a good mood.
Not having to wear glasses also seemed fascinating.
It was incredible how small things were taken for granted.
In the real present, I used glasses like they were part of my life without thinking about it so much.
Here, my vision was perfect, and the world was sharp and clear without any assistance.
Mile after mile, I pushed myself, testing this younger body's limits, reveling in its strength and resilience. No aches, no pains, no compensation for old injuries. Just the pure joy of movement.
By the time I returned home, sweaty and breathless but thrilled, the sun was fully up, and my family was waking up. As I entered the kitchen, my mother looked up from her coffee, and I could see the great surprise reflected on her face.
"You're up early," she said. "How are you feeling?"
I remembered sleeping until noon during my days at school, so it felt weird for her to see me so early. She could never imagine I was no longer the rebellious and lazy boy I once was.
"Great," I answered, and meant it. "Better than I have in a long time."
She smiled, though there was a hint of concern in her eyes. "The doctor said you should take it easy. You shouldn't have gone out running with that wrist in such bad condition."
"I feel fine, Mom. Really. I use my legs to run, I promise I didn't jerk my wrist." I took a cup and handed it to her, "Can I have some coffee?"
"And since when do you drink coffee?"
At that moment, I realized that acting like my 18-year-old self was going to be harder than I expected. I felt like a completely different person than I once was, and I didn't know how to make everyone believe I was still the same immature little boy.
"I don't know, I just want to. Can I have just this one cup, please?"
I decided, at least today, not to give her all the answers she expected. After all, I'd been in an accident, and she needed to understand that I wanted to take things easy.
After my dry response, my mom took the cup without saying anything, poured me coffee, and handed it to me, then we both sat down to drink it. That's when I finally realized what I was doing.
I was hanging out with my mom.
She was sitting across from me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Because for her, it was. She had no idea what the future held.
That in only one year, I would leave the country.
That in five years, she and my dad would have a complicated divorce.
In eight, she would move across the country to be closer to my sister, who had moved for college and never went back.
That in ten, I would barely see her twice a year because Sydney and Chicago were too far apart for casual visits.
My sister and I had had enough of my parents' constant fighting, so we both moved away from this city as soon as we had the chance.
Maybe I should have been a little more chill with her; after all, I knew she was going through a lot. But my brain didn't want to deal with the consequences of the changes that were about to happen if I made something different from where I was supposed to.
"Your father already left for work," she said, bringing me back to the present. "And Aria is still asleep, so if you are going to do anything now, please be silent."
Hearing my mother mention my father, I couldn't help but wonder if they would act differently if they knew how much the destructive relationship between them affected Aria and me. "Mom?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Watching her sit there so calmly with her coffee, I couldn’t bring myself to be honest. It just felt easier to pretend I didn’t know anything, to act like everything was fine, instead of admitting hard conversations were waiting for us. "I'll be quiet," I promised, heading for the shower.
As the hot water cascaded over me, I thought about Lily and her determination to change things. What she had in mind was dangerous. Reckless. We wouldn't know the consequences of making such drastic changes. Things happen for a reason, and we should not be stuck thinking about our what-ifs.
Every decision, even the painful parts, shapes us in ways we can’t always see.
The man I'd become because of what happened ten years ago carried guilt and regret around like weights in my chest. But those feelings had also taught me things.
Made me more careful with people's trust. Made me understand that words have consequences. Real ones.
The pain of losing people had shown me what it meant to really love someone. The weight of my testimony had taught me that being scared isn't an excuse for being wrong.
If we change everything now, would the person I left behind still learn those lessons when they return to my present? Or would I be that same eighteen-year-old kid forever, never understanding the real cost of my choices?
There's a reason we can't go back and fix our mistakes in real life.
We're supposed to learn from them, not erase them.
Every small decision we make creates something bigger, even when we can't see it.
Pull one thread and the whole thing unravels.
Our scars aren't just reminders of where we've been; they're proof that we survived, that we're stronger than we were before.
I need to find a way to make Lily understand that, or to return to our real present before the consequences of her decisions change anything that could have a bigger impact than the one we already had.
That night, my friends came over to check on me. They brought pizza and video games, and we spent the night like never before, without worries, without thinking about money or what we should do tomorrow, just living.
I felt liberated and happy to have them back in my life like before.
We played for hours, yelling and trash-talking each other the way we used to. Tom brought beer that he'd stolen from his older brother's stash, and we each had one, feeling rebellious and grown-up.
Here I was, mentally 28 but physically 18, pretending to be a teenager while actually being more adult than any of them. And to be honest, it felt good. Right. Like I belonged here. Maybe moving so far away was a big mistake. My life was here. All my friends. My family.
"So, what's the deal with you and Lily?" Mike asked during a break between games. "You guys seem pretty serious."
I felt my face flush, another quirk of this younger body that I'd forgotten. By this time, Lily and I had been dating for a little over a year, and everyone felt like we were going to get married—until what happened ruined our relationship.
I still didn't know how Lily and I were going to handle faking our relationship until we could go back to the future, considering that what she probably wants most in life is to be as far away from me as possible right now.
Still, for now, all I can do is follow the script I remember from this moment.
"I don't know, we're just letting things flow," I said vaguely, hoping these boys wouldn't want to dwell on romantic shit.
"Bullshit," Tom said, grinning. "You're madly in love with that girl. All you do is try to be near her all the time. I don't know what she did to you, but you don't seem to be interested in anyone else since she accepted you."
"And even more so now that they're in the hospital together. They'll become more inseparable than ever, if that were even possible," Jaren added.
I started remembering those times in my actual past. Lily and I became closer after we started helping out at the hospital.
But I always knew she was the one. Well, at least at that time.
Now it seems like no matter what I do, she despises me more and more.
And hearing my friends talk about how things were before everything went to hell made the hole in my chest from her absence shudder.
"She's cool," I said as dryly as possible. The last thing I wanted was for my friends to keep mentioning her when all I wanted was to clear my mind. "We'll see."
"And hot," Mike added, reaching for another slice of pizza.
I thought about Lily as she was now, as she'd been yesterday in the hospital garden. Still, my Lily is so many ways, so fierce, determined, and beautiful. But also different. Hardened by the years we'd both lived through, by the pain we'd caused each other.
Could we find our way back to what we'd once had? Or would the weight of everything create a permanent wall too big to cross?
"Trust me," I said to Mike, "I know she is."
Thankfully, nobody talked about her again. The night wore on, and we spent it playing, laughing, and talking trash about things that had recently happened at school, and somehow this helped me adjust to the new, strange environment I was in. I needed everything to seem normal.
I didn't want to change the past for fear of everything that could happen in the future because of me, but what if we could never go back? I hadn't gained any new insight into our current situation.
After the guys left, I sat alone in my room, staring at the computer screen where I'd spent the day researching time travel theories before my friends came. Nothing I found offered any real explanation for what had happened to us, let alone a way to reverse it.
Maybe I was taking it all too lightly. I had enough rest; it was time to return to work.
Tomorrow, I will see Lily at school. We need to talk. Not the pre-made speech we had in the kitchen. And definitely not the strange talk we had in the hospital. Really talk.
We need to analyze what we are going to do, how far we are willing to go, and what we would do if we were stuck here permanently.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, one thought kept circling in my mind: What if this wasn't a mistake? What if we were sent back for a reason?
And what if that reason was to save the people we'd lost the first time around?
The next day, I arrived at school with a clear idea of what I should do. The familiar halls of Westlake High felt smaller than I remembered, the lockers neglected, the ceiling lower. Everything seemed less intimidating now that I'd lived through college and years in the professional world.
Students milled around me, laughing and talking, completely unaware that I wasn't really one of them anymore. I was a stranger in a familiar body, an imposter playing a role.
I walked quickly to find Lily, scanning the crowds for her blonde hair. If we were stuck here, we needed rules, boundaries. We couldn't just charge ahead, changing everything without considering the consequences. We can't just get revenge, as she said.
But as I turned the corner toward the senior corridors, I bumped into someone. When I looked up, all the air rushed from my lungs.
Oliver Adams.
When we both looked at each other, we were in shock, for different reasons, of course. He was surprised by the collision. But I was paralyzed by memories of what this person would do, of what he would become.
"Sorry, man," he said casually as if he hadn't ruined lives. As if he wouldn't. "How are you? I'm sorry I didn't go to your house last night. I was finishing my homework, and my dad wouldn't let me out."
I didn't know if he said anything else. My mind began to cloud. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. All I could see was that face, pale and still, and everyone around crying over his death.
Before Oliver could say anything else, I ran to the bathroom and threw up, my breakfast burning its way back up my throat. I gripped the sides of the toilet, my whole body shaking.
Everything I planned to do was instantly destroyed.
I couldn't let the past happen again the way it did. I couldn't let things continue like that. Not when I had the power to change it.
For years, I'd fantasized about what would have happened if I had stopped Oliver in time.
What would have happened if my friends and I had put a stop to the crazy things he did?
But those fantasies were just that, dreams and ideas when one can't sleep or has free time to think about impossible things—no concrete plans to stop a disaster that has not yet happened.
But this Oliver hadn't done anything wrong yet. I had that power that seemed impossible in my fantasies.
I splashed water on my face, trying to calm down. My reflection in the bathroom mirror showed a face I barely recognized, younger, unscarred by grief and time. But my eyes were the same. They held the weight of everything I'd seen, everything I'd lost.
Lily was right. Some things needed to change.
We can't let Oliver get away with everything this time.
We should stop the bullying, the fight, and the consequences of all our mistakes.
And maybe, if everything turned out fine, Lily and I could find our way back to each other without the pain and blame that tore us apart the first time.
The butterfly effect be damned. Some butterflies needed to be crushed before they could cause hurricanes.
When I came out of the bathroom, Lily was by the door, leaning against the wall. Her eyes met mine, understanding what had happened.
"I think I'm ready to talk," she said quietly, "and apparently you are too."