Chapter Text
Aniq didn’t expect happily ever after to taste so bittersweet.
The kiss at the end of the movie is not supposed to be equal parts magical and tragic. Maybe it’s the smell of leather: that new-car fragrance, maintained in perpetuity by Luxury Prestige Rentals. It’s like an itch at the back of Aniq’s mind, an unwelcome reminder of how steep a cost was exacted by this night.
But when Aniq opens his eyes, and sees the woman he’s been pining after for the better part of two decades, he can almost forget.
Even after pulling the all-nighter from hell, Zoë is as radiant as ever. She gives Aniq a satisfied smile, her eyes darting down to his lips. Aniq leans in to kiss her again, and her hands wrap around his shoulders. In the passenger seat of Yasper’s hideous rental, the harrowing events of their 15-year high school reunion fade behind the rising sun.
And then, everything is dark, and Aniq is alone.
It feels like waking up.
Aniq had learned about myoclonic jerks in high school biology class: getting jolted abruptly when you’re just about to fall asleep, as if you’ve been dropped from a great height.
What’s happening right now is a lot like that familiar phenomenon of being yanked out of unconsciousness, except everything feels deeply out of sorts. Aniq has no idea how he went from daybreak to darkness in the blink of an eye, or why he’s now in the driver’s seat of his own car.
Aside from the streetlamps overhead, the only source of light is the glow from his cell phone. For some reason, it has Zoë’s email about the reunion pulled up. Aniq hesitantly puts his phone away and exits his car, realizing that he’s now back at Hillmount High along with the rented Audi. He’s beginning to think he fell asleep after kissing Zoë (how embarrassing) and she had to drive him here and carry him into his own car. Man, he must have been dead to the world if he’d passed out for the entire day.
Turning around to face the school, Aniq sees the driver’s side door of the bright green rental open. But it’s not Zoë exiting the Audi. It’s Yasper. Aniq’s stomach lurches like he’s just crested over the peak of a rollercoaster, sick with the knowledge that a steep plummet is inevitable.
“Oh, Aniq! What’s going on, man!” Yasper strides over and exuberantly claps Aniq on the back like he hasn’t just murdered their classmate and almost gotten Aniq arrested for it. “It’s been like 2 years!”
Aniq’s heart is caught in his throat, along with all of the things he’s wanted to say to Yasper ever since he found out his childhood best friend was a killer. But Yasper’s face betrays nothing. Undeterred by Aniq’s lack of a response, he continues: “I’m so happy you came! Let me see this new jacket!”
You’ve seen this jacket yesterday, Aniq thinks. Of course, what’s more out of place is that Yasper isn’t detained in the back of a police car. Instead, he’s walking with a spring in his step, reaching toward Aniq’s collar like nothing has happened. Aniq flinches away. Stunned, he asks, “Did you… break out of custody?”
“What’s that, now?” The confusion in Yasper’s voice seems genuine, but Aniq knows he shouldn’t trust it. If last night has proven anything, it’s that Yasper is a better liar than Aniq ever realized.
Yasper steers them toward the school, chattering on about something involving Zoë, and Aniq is too shell-shocked to respond. A dozen people in semi-formal clothes are milling about the breezeway underneath yesterday’s balloon arches. Aniq doesn’t know any of them by name, though he could swear most were here the previous night.
He thumbs around inside his jacket for Detective Danner’s business card—he doesn’t relish the thought of calling the cops on anyone, but maybe she could explain what’s happening. It’s a moot point, though; his pockets are empty.
Then Aniq sees Chelsea wearing yesterday’s fuzzy jacket and pleather skirt. She stumbles and drops her belongings before asking if Aniq and Yasper were following her. Notably, she is not flipping out about Yasper being here. Aniq speed-walks over and incredulously whispers in her ear, “What is happening? Why isn’t Yasper in jail right now?”
Chelsea blinks, hastily shoving two flasks—shouldn’t those be in an evidence locker?—back into her purse. “Huh? Why would Yasper be in jail?”
Aniq searches Chelsea’s face for any sign of comprehension, but comes up short. Unlike with Yasper, Aniq doubts she’s trying to pull one over on him. She seems lucid enough, too.
“You don’t—Last night—the murder?” Aniq stammers, feeling crazier by the minute. “You have to remember. How do you not remember? We spent the whole night being interviewed, and, and they suspected me at first, but Yasper—” Aniq breaks off and rubs his temple. “Danner arrested him—do you not—? We were all there, in Xavier’s mansion.”
“What are you talking about?” Chelsea furrows her brow. “Aniq, are you feeling okay? None of what you’re saying makes sense.”
Chelsea doesn’t think he’s making sense? None of this makes sense. Aniq pulls out his phone—maybe there’s proof of something in there, texts he sent Yasper last night when he was investigating—and almost drops it when he sees the calendar icon on his home screen.
Saturday, November 27.
That was yesterday, Aniq thinks, increasingly panicked. The reunion was definitely on the 27th. There must be something wrong with his phone. But his wristwatch says the same thing. It’s like last night never happened.
Aniq is so lost in thought that he gets tangled up in a column of balloons, and then all of a sudden, comes face to face with Zoë. She looks at him like she’s seeing him for the first time in years, and despite the weirdness of the past five minutes, Aniq gets butterflies all over again. He doesn’t really know what else to do, so he repeats the same corny jokes that made her laugh last night, feeling like he’s replaying the tutorial level of a video game. Their meet-cute is a little more awkward the second go-around, but (as Yasper cheerfully points out) the sparks are still there.
Then Walt approaches, and asks Aniq and Yasper if they remember him. This time, Aniq is able to say, “Yeah, of course, Walt,” and it warms his heart slightly to see Walt light up like Aniq just made his year. But it isn’t long until the trio hear the sound of a descending helicopter, and Aniq is back to having a terrible time.
This can’t be happening. Xavier is dead. It must be someone else’s helicopter. But who else would take a private aircraft to a high school reunion? When the plane touches down and a very-much-alive popstar in a purple suit gets out, Aniq is floored.
“This is impossible. This is literally impossible,” he mutters under his breath.
Ears like a bat, Yasper picks up on it. “It’s weird how famous he is, huh? C’mon. Don’t let him intimidate you. This is your night.”
Aniq sleepwalks alongside Yasper into the school. Like a sick joke, the Jennifers are there welcoming them to the Hillmount High Class of 2006’s 15-year reunion. After another fruitless attempt at the check-in booth to explain what an escape room is, he doesn’t even try to stop Jennifer 2 from listing “Santa Claus” as his occupation. Whatever is going on is a problem several orders of magnitude larger than the nametag. Instead, Aniq mumbles an excuse and makes a beeline for the bathroom.
Like most places he’d originally experienced as a child, the first floor boys’ room is smaller than Aniq remembered, but is thankfully empty. He just needs someplace quiet to gather his thoughts.
What is happening is impossible. Aniq had already attended his high school reunion. He remembers arriving in the parking lot yesterday, just after 7pm. Seeing Yasper for the first time in close to two years, which had felt like coming home. Reuniting with Zoë, and slipping back into easy chemistry despite his nerves and her recent divorce. Realizing that Zoë felt the same way for him, plucking up the courage to kiss her, and finally getting everything he had dreamed of since high school. Then there are the parts that Aniq doesn’t want to remember, that overshadow everything else: getting roofied, Xavier’s murder, being the prime suspect, pulling an all-nighter to try to prove his innocence. Finding out that Yasper, his oldest, closest friend, was the killer.
(Not a friend. A friend wouldn’t do this, Aniq reminds himself, with a pang to the gut. He grips both sides of the sink.)
At that moment, the not-friend in question enters the bathroom with a knock-knock on the doorframe. “Hey buddy… You okay? You’re not puking, are you?”
Aniq turns to face Yasper. It’s on the tip of his tongue. What happened to you? Why did you do it? How, how on earth could you do it?
Instead, he swallows it all back. “I… don’t feel well. I think I might be sick.”
It’s not a lie, exactly. It’s just… a distortion of the truth. Like last night, when Yasper had told him, I've been helping you since the beginning, remember? Or, Aniq, you’re my friend.
Yasper is very obviously repulsed by the possibility of Aniq being sick, which would have been funny two days ago. “Yeeesh. Uh, why don’t I get you some ginger ale from the bar?” he suggests, tapping his fingers anxiously on the doorframe. “And can you text me if you’re about to yarf so I don’t have to come back in here? Thanks, love you!” Without waiting for an answer, he noiselessly slips out of the bathroom.
Great. Now Aniq just has to figure out what’s going on.
This much is clear: he’s back at the start of what appears to be his 15th high school reunion. Yasper isn’t in handcuffs, Xavier is alive, Jennifer 2 is once again pregnant, and everyone is acting like the previous evening didn’t happen. It’s like someone has hit rewind on the worst night of his adult life.
Let’s think logically about this, Aniq tells himself. This is just a puzzle. He has an unhelpful flashback to Yasper telling him that being accused of murder is like an escape room, only the room he’s trying to escape is prison.
Willing himself to focus, Aniq leans down over the sink to splash water on his face. If he tries to put the pieces together, some coherent picture is bound to emerge. He presses the tips of his fingers together in concentration.
The calendar on his phone had said that today was the 27th. As Aniq looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he notices that the faded “NERD” graffiti that was on his forehead is gone. His button-down shirt doesn’t reek of stale beer anymore; it’s as clean and pressed as it was when he first put it on. And he’s feeling weirdly refreshed, too, despite having stayed up the whole night trying to solve Xavier’s murder.
Methodically cataloging all of the little details has given Aniq a little more room to breathe. He is able to come up with several theories (last night was a dream; he’s currently dreaming; all of his classmates are Truman Show-style actors hired to enact the worst practical joke ever). They’re all pretty easy to poke holes in, though. There’s only one explanation that would account for all the facts: Someone actually has hit rewind on his life.
This is an impossible theory. Aniq barely remembers anything from his AP Physics class, but he’s pretty sure this has to defy all of the laws of the natural world. And yet, if he is willing to suspend his disbelief on that one crucial point, it all clicks into place.
At first it seems like an incredible relief: he can prevent everything bad about last night from happening again. (Yasper’s voice taunts him: a second shot.)
But then, he thinks, What if I’m stuck on rewind?
The pessimist in Aniq knows that having an easy do-over of last night is too good to be true. He’s seen the movie Groundhog Day; he knows how this goes. It would be so fittingly brutal for Aniq to be trapped in this night of all nights, over and over again. With his luck, that’s probably what’s happening.
By tomorrow morning, Aniq will know for sure whether he’s doomed to repeat November 27th in perpetuity. If so, he doesn’t even need to stay at the reunion; he could just as easily call it a night at 8pm (which is an extremely appealing thought). But if he’s wrong, and what happens tonight is permanent, Aniq can’t bear to let the events of last night play out again. Not when he might be the only person who could prevent Xavier’s murder.
As Aniq exits the sanctity of the bathroom, he can make out faint sounds of the reunion coming from the gymnasium. It sounds like it’s Ned’s turn at Karaoke Hour, and his rendition of Hot in Herre is about as tuneless as it is enthusiastic. There’s no harm in waiting to enter the gym until Ned is finished, so Aniq considers his options for a few more minutes. The prospect of leaving this mess behind and crawling into bed calls out to him like a siren song.
The music changes. Zoë begins to sing.
Aniq sighs and heads for the gym.