William startled awake, his heart still racing from some remembered gunshot. Gone was the wet, cold warehouse, replaced by warmth. If he — by the grace of God — could survive, he would be at least, in a hospital, yet he wasn't.

He blinked in the bright light, squinting as sunlight filled his sight. Weird, there was no sharp smell of a hospital, no odor of dust concrete. What he could smell was the unmistakable scent of the ocean air mixed with the faint smell of sunscreen.

An annoying warmth touched him. As he opened his eyes, the sun's rays welcomed him—too bright, too warm. He squinted against the blinding light; his hand instinctively sought out his forehead. His vision slowly began to focus. Yet, on a movement to cover his face, he froze. His hand was different — smaller, not fully grown-up. And then he sat up, and he stared at the vast stretch of glittering water before him.

Côte d'Azur.

"Will, don't move too fast. You're still pale."

The next voice he heard was familiar but had a pitch of sternness to it. William hadn't heard it in years. He turned and saw Richard, his younger brother, standing beside him. The look on Richard's face was one of both relief and worry. Yet, this was not the Richard he knew: this was a younger version. The years of resentments hadn't touched neither of them, it was still easy kindliness William had almost forgotten.

"You scared us a lot... You really don't know when to stop, do you?" he sighed as his hand still outstretched as William took the bottle.

William received the bottle, still so puzzled. He drank some of the cold water. As it went down his throat, his brain gradually started working again. And then he remembered his family trip to Côte d'Azur, his last one before his college time, before his life started breaking apart in ways he couldn't fix.

"Thanks… How long was I asleep?" he said hoarsely, the phrase and voice felt strange in his mouth. It wasn't the voice he had remembered.

"Long enough." Then Richard's voice softened, though he remained firm for a thirteen years old teenager. "One minute you were fine, then the next-out cold."

William stared at him, his emotion filled up in the way he hadn't expected. He was washed with sadness, regret, and relief. He had forgotten what Richard used to be like. The honest and good figure he hadn't seen in years. It was hard to see this Richard was the same Richard of the future he knew. The brother who had grown so remote he felt almost like a stranger.

"What's wrong? Did you hurt your head?" Richard asked, looking at him for any sign that he might be hurt.

Richard's concern gave an amusiment. Surprising William into chuckles, "No, no," he said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Just. I was caught up in thought."

Richard's sigh deepened further. "You really need to think before you act, Will, you know that?" He turned a shoulder on him. "I'll let Giselle and Juliette know you're all right."

Talking about the sister and her friend made William remembered even more of the past he once had. Juliette was indeed joining them in this one.

"Calm down," he said as he held Richard's wrist, preventing him to go with his plan. "You’re worrying too much already, and you’re just thirteen. Let Giselle and Juliette be. You don't want to ruin their fun, do you?"

The afternoon gave the golden rays of the sun. Giselle and Juliette laughed hilariously; it didn't matter that they were not the most athletic. But they were having fun at volleyball. In a distance, William could watch them. As he watched, his memory couldn't help but to play the old record of his memory. The dream — or the reality he once lived — showed every scenes.

As much as he remembered, Giselle, he believed, had suffered the karma their family had done. It happened years later. Once his family grew distant, they were merely caring of the outsider's view. That was why, he, his mother, father, and Richard had taken a trip but Giselle refused to travel with them, for she had spitted all of them.

Oftentimes, William would find himself recalling the time he had received the news precisely because of how vivid it was. The house they thought was free of disturbances had been invaded by thieves. An invasion, which they found out later, had been arranged from the inside. This was not the way it was meant to be. Still... it was the way it was.

The very first day back he noticed the splintered door frame, the police cars with their lights flashing, and the eerie absence of familiarity within the house that he had never experienced before. It was then that they broke it to him—Giselle had been in there and was not coming out. Left barricaded in what was expected to be a sanctuary, she had to a battle to escape.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

At this very moment in time, he wondered which path he should take: Try to change too much, and it could all fall apart. Or change nothing, and watch all unfold like it was.

But it had not stopped at Giselle. He turned a glance at Juliette. He remembered the pain he had caused her too, ones he himself could not explain. The terrible action of robbing her of everything she had.

As he watched her, Juliette passed the volleyball with a flick of her wrists, sending it flying across the sandy court. Giselle followed after it laughing, but her angle was off. The ball bounced once and flew over the boundaries of the court, rolling and finally hitting someone seated close by.

A young one, who was probably around William’s age, threw a clearly annoyed, discontent look towards them before getting up and brushing off his shirt. He had an air of someone not used to being put out. Without saying a word, he made a gesture of authority and threw the ball away.

Nonchalantly, Giselle took the ball, planned to resume the game. Not a single word of apologise, not a single remorse in her look.

"Hey! Aren’t you going to apologize?" he called after her, irritation colored his voice.

Feigning innocence, Giselle glared back at the man’s irritated countenance. "It’s just a ball, it’s not like it’s the end of the world."

The young man squinted, more like glared, he did not appreciate the way he was addressed. "Perhaps, if you do not have control of your throw, you should be more considerate of the playing area."

Giselle was as stubborn as usual, this matter could end with a simple apologize, yet she had to make it big: "Oh really? Next time, why don’t you refrain from sitting there if you cannot take a ball?"

With some distance between her and the argument, Juliette looked back and forth from Giselle to the boy. She walked closer to Giselle, and clung on to her elbow. "Giselle... let me just apologize... I am the one who threw it."

Giselle shook her head in refusal, "Not a single chance in hell, Jules. You have nothing to apologize for. If he wants to be mad, that's on him."

Juliette let her eyes dart back toward the boy, who was now standing with his arms crossed, looking defiant, and annoyed. Luckily, before anything else was done by Giselle, William arrived.

"Okay let’s not make this any longer than it should," William said.

But the moment his gaze fell upon that boy, his heart failed him. He goggled. His sense and memory clearly told him ‘I know this person'.

For there stood in front of William was Arshen. William blinked as he tried to make sense of the situation. Yes, Arshen, the very Arshen who had been a part of William’s life.

No, no, this can't be happening. William remember, in previous life, Arshen did not exist on this beach, not in this time frame and certainly not in this boyish form. As if there existed a timeline where Arshen was not meant to come into the picture of this day.

In his previous rest, he had made his mind. He would never meet Arshen again. Their path wouldn't cross. For if he had cared for Arshen, he'd not let Arshen went through the same hell as the previous life. Yet here they were.

Ignoring the very heavy turmoil he had inside him, William took a step forward, "I am sorry," he said, a steady but earnest tone in his voice. "That was unintentional. We didn't mean it."

The boy shifted his eyes to William, assessing him sharply, "If it was an accident, then okay," came the response, albeit with a certain defiance, as if daring William to prove he was being truthful.

"Once again, I’m sorry, but—" William stopped, and started looking for something in his pocket. He finally took out a small note and a pen. Without hesitation, he scribbled a series of number on one of the pages. After ripping the page out, he stretched forth his hand. "Here. Just in case, okay? If something happens—say, you get injured or whatever—don’t hesitate to call us. We will take care of everything."

Arshen turned back, looking at the paper with amusement. "You are exaggerating a little, don’t you think?" he said, a smile creeping to his face. "It’s just a volleyball, not a bomb."

William smiled back briefly, though the sound of his heartbeat seemed to increase. "Alright..."

Arshen rolled his eyes and took a step back carelessly waving a hand. "There’s no need for that. I’m okay. Also, I don’t think I’ll be calling you anytime soon." He gave William one more look, one that was a little puzzled, and walked away.

Right, he remembered none of William. None of the past. As William glared at Arshen's back, he squeezed the paper in his hand.

Their reunion might be brief, but nothing could prepare him for that. In his heart, he vowed, it would be the last time they met eye to eye.

For some time after Arshen had disappeared, William continued staring at the very spot where he had last seen him. It’s not like William was at ease, he was tormented with several images in his mind. The difference was so great that he felt discomfort, trapped in between two surfaces.

"Hold on," Giselle’s voice cut through his inner dialogue with a sound of confusion. "Didn’t you just faint like a minute ago?"

He blinked. It was his sister who turned her gaze back towards him, eyebrows arched in surprise. Next to her, Juliette had her head tilted to the side, looking kind but questioning at the same time.

"Are you okay?" she said, her tone gentle. The care that she showed him was a reminder of his failure.

"Well, I did, and I am fine now," he replied. But hardly removing the thought of Arshen.