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I. SUN AND SEA (it’s all coming back to me)
The first thing they see when they wake up is the sun.
It’s rising over the sea in the corner of their eye, and they can’t help but think that the sight, sun over sea, is familiar.
Camping out at the beach. Singing and sharing stories over a campfire.
They lose themselves in the flashback; the familiar pang of nostalgia grows.
Taking a boat out just before sunrise. The first rays lighting up his face- his sunny, sunny smile.
They take a few moments to breathe in the air- also familiar for some odd reason- before they snap themselves out of their reverie. Getting up, they take in more of their surroundings- calm blue sea, rocks littering the beach, and a forest, untouched by the current war plaguing the country, opposite the shoreline. The place shouldn’t be familiar- they may as well be on unknown territory- but it just is; it is too similar to that one place, their place.
“I love this beach! It’s a spot just for us!”
“Me too.”
They shake their head. It’s impossible that this beach is their beach; their past is determined to stay in the past after all, no matter how hard they try, so why would they be able to go back now? They are tired, though, and they don’t sense any immediate danger, so they allow themselves to remember.
The two stumble out of the forest and gape at the sight.
“I love this beach!” He says brightly, already going about to explore the place.
"Yeah, me too!”
They camp out at the beach, and sing and share stories over the campfire. Just before sunrise, they take their boat out to sea to see the first rays peek over the horizon. While he looks at the sun, they look at hum, and see how the sun perfectly lights up his face, making his smile even brighter.
He smiles at them, “we should do this all the time.”
“Yeah, we should.”
They sigh and turn away from the sight. They miss him so much.
II. CARVED ON ROCK (you’re carved on my heart)
As they walk along the shoreline exploring the beach, they notice this rock. To someone else, it is just like any other rock anywhere else, but to them, the rock resembles a certain rock, their rock.
“I now claim this rock for us!”
“Hey, can you even claim a rock?”
“We can.”
They make their way towards the rock. Standing over it, they can now see that this rock even has all the cracks and weird colors their rock had.
“There’s a little bit of blue on our rock here. Can rocks be blue?”
“I don’t even know. Maybe?”
They close their eyes and run their hands over the rock; it even feels like their rock. Every notch, every bump matches the ones they mapped out with their hands all those years ago. If they try hard enough, they can fool themselves into thinking that the two initials that they carved into the stone are actually there.
“So we just carve and… there! Now this rock is ours!”
“Yeah, I was so worried about having our rock stolen away from us in our own, secret beach. Thank you for calming my fears.”
“Shut up!”
They fool themselves so well that they think they can actually feel the edges of the carvings on the rock, every scratch, every notch…
They open their eyes and freeze. The two initials, carved on rock, are actually there.
How?
Their head spins as the memories rush back to them.
He stares at the rock intently. He’s been staring at it the whole day, and they are just about to ask him what he was doing, but he suddenly blurts out,
" I now claim this rock for us!”
They are decidedly unimpressed, “can you even claim a rock?”
He looks triumphant, “we can.”
The rock becomes their spot for just about anything. They lounge around it and make a contest of counting the cracks on the surface of the stone.
They notice that he has been silent for a while, staring at a spot on the rock. The spot is peculiarly blue.
“There’s a little bit of blue on our rock here. Can rocks be blue?”
Of course he asks a weird question.
“I don’t know, maybe?”
He contemplates the rock some more. Suddenly, his face lights up, and he brings a small knife out of the pocket in his back.
“What are you doing?”
“Carving!”
“Carving?”
“So we just carve and… there!” The initials cut through the blue.
He holds out the knife to them. They give him a blank look.
“Come on, just carve! … For me?”
They give in.
“Yes! Now this rock is ours!”
“Yeah, I was so worried about having our rock stolen away from us in our own secret beach. Thank you for calming my fears.”
He flushes, “shut up! It makes it more personal!”
They look at the two initials carved on the stone.
C.I. and E.R.
They stumble back, hand drawing away from the stone, under the weight of their realization. If the initials are here, then this place must be- they must be-
They look around themselves in desperation. The strangely familiar surroundings suddenly make sense- the sun over sea, the untouched beach, the rock, the virgin forest-
This place is it. It must be.
They run for the forest.
III. RUNNING IN THE MAZE (I see you everywhere in this haze)
The forest is a green blur around them. They run through it in a haze, going through paths the two used to run through back then.
Playing tag around the forest. Hiding up in trees so that he wouldn’t be able to find them.
“Hey, you’re cheating!”
“No I’m not!”
“Yeah you are!”
They go through all their usual hiding spots without realizing it, mind hazy with memories, nostalgia, and hope.
“You’ll always lose hide and seek if you keep on using the same spots.”
“Hey, I do NOT use the same spots all the time!”
"Yeah you do!”
They stop running and breathe heavily. They feel moisture at the edges of their eyes. Overwhelmed and tired with the situation, they lean back heavily against a tree and slide down to the ground. Looking at the branches overhead, they think bleakly about how they went from playing tag through the forest to hiding here from the guards they would play pranks on.
They snigger at the shouting under their feet. The guard’s face is as red as a tomato, and goes nicely with his mud-stained uniform.
“Hey shhhh! He might hear us!”
They smile at the memory; they played pranks on the guards more than once, but they never got caught. It was great.
Then the longing and emptiness in their chest takes over the fond nostalgia, and the smile falls off their face.
They miss it, being young and free and not alone.
Before the dark thoughts can take over their mind, they get up and continue running through this maze of trees where they memorize every step, every turn.
They run through the forest, and the memories run through their head.
After a week of exploring the beach, they start to play inside the forest.
They play tag around it, running in between trees and over roots. When he is it, they hide up in the trees so that he can’t find them. A shout from below brings their attention to the ground.
“Hey, you’re cheating!” He looks indignant and annoyed, not angry though.
“No I’m not!”
“Yeah you are!”
They get down and agree to play hide and seek instead when he turns away from them with a pout. They find him in the same spots for all the rounds.
“You’ll always lose hide and seek if you keep on using the same spots.”
“Hey, I do NOT use the same spots all the time.”
“Yeah you do!”
They grow up, and grow from playing tag through the forest to using it as a hiding spot from the guards they play pranks on.
“Where are you brats? I swear if I ever get my hands on you two…!”
They snigger at the shouting under their feet. The guard’s face is as red as a tomato, and goes nicely with his mud-stained uniform.
“Hey shhhh! He might hear us!” He laughs quietly, legs dangling over the branch he is perched on. “But seriously, we are so dead when the guard sees us tomorrow at the fiesta.”
But not even the threat of the guard could stifle their quiet giggles, the rush of excitement and happiness in their chest, “so who are we pranking tomorrow?”
He grins.
They miss that smile; the smile that causes their heart to skip a beat even just remembering it, and they feel a pain in their chest that has nothing to do with their burning lungs.
They run around the last few curves of the maze, and stumble out into the light.
IV. ACROSS THE THRESHOLD (I don’t want to let go)
They can’t really tell if they notice the similarities or differences first.
They notice that there are more roads now plus more Spanish houses compared to the humble nipa huts, but they also notice that the pattern of the roads under their feet hasn’t changed, nor had the large fields to their far left.
Staring all around, their hometown feels foreign yet familiar at the same time.
The town is empty save for early-rising farmers out to tend to their crops, so they allow themselves to drown in memories of walking along these same roads with him.
“Hey kids, watch it!”
“Sorry po! They weren’t watching their steps.”
“Hey, hey, let’s continue playing already!”
“Yeah, yeah, just be careful, and don’t bump into more people, alright?”
“Okay, fine”
Kicking the gravel under their feet, they remember how much they preferred the beach because no one can tell them what to do there; no one but him.
“We can’t go to the beach all the time, you know. It’s good to be around other people.”
“Yeah I know; it’s just- well- “
A smile, “it’s okay. I understand.”
He always understands.
Their walking takes them to where their house used to be, except instead of a house, a simple sign stands upright on the ground. Moving closer, they can make out the words on the sign:
E**** R******
**** -1862
☼
Fresh flowers sit at the base of the sign, and with their heart in their throat, they recognize them as sampaguitas and gumamelas - their favorite flowers. They turn away from the sign quickly.
It makes sense, really, that they are thought dead, even if no trace of their body was ever found; the experiment looked like an explosion after all. Still, something about seeing their own “grave” makes their stomach churn. Uncomfortable with all the feelings pooling in them, they try to think back on their happy memories with him, but when they close their eyes, all they can see is the explosion.
The explosion fills their eyes, and they hear someone shouting their name- their senses are overwhelmed and then, suddenly, they can’t feel or see or hear anything anymore.
When they wake up, they wake up in a time that is not theirs, surrounded by strange people, buildings, technology. This is definitely not 1862 anymore.
Before they drown further in their memories, a voice behind them catches their attention. They turn around, and they feel the world spin.
Standing a couple of feet away from them is Lolo.
Lolo, who became their guardian instead of their absent parents.
Lolo, who took them in as his own.
Lolo stares disbelievingly at them, and they swear that they can see him shaking. They take a tentative step forward, and when Lolo doesn’t move back, they close the distance in between the two of them. In front of him now, they pull Lolo into a crushing hug. Lolo doesn’t even take a second before wrapping his own arms around them. They can feel Lolo saying something to them, softer than a whisper.
You’re back. You’re alive.
He repeats it over and over again like mantra, and they feel moisture on their shoulder. They hug him tighter.
After a while, they part, and they take in Lolo’s face; he has definitely aged. His wrinkles are deeper and so are the crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes. Despite all this, Lolo is the same Lolo they know from ten years ago- intelligence in his eyes, energy in old bones, and loving arms.
They are about to ask Lolo about him, but then Lolo’s eyes go hard, and his expression turns solemn. They know this expression; they see it whenever an experiment almost burns their face off, whenever they get hurt, whenever the guards in town hurt an innocent man. It is an expression of fear and worry, clawing at the corners of his mind and heart. Seeing it again now makes dread pool in their stomach.
Lolo asks them to come with him to his home, and they follow. Lolo leads the way, but they are sure that they can still get to the house without Lolo guiding him; the roads to the simple house are practically carved in their mind after walking them countless times. On the way there, people pass by them and don’t pay any attention to the old man and strangely-clothed person walking along the streets. Their faces are unfamiliar- even the guards they see are different- and they are struck again by the realization that a lot of things changed in their absence.
They arrive at the house, and Lolo steps across the threshold and into the house. They, however, hesitate at the entrance; the exterior of the house still looks mostly the same, but the interior is entirely different. There are now empty tabletops and cases where there used to be odd machines and experiments. The inside that used to look so unusual and interesting ten years ago now looks boring and simple- just like any other house.
They slowly step through the threshold and move to sit down at their usual seat at the dining table in the center of the room; Lolo sits across them. He looks at them expectantly, but patiently. They know that they will have to tell the whole story, about how they survived the explosion but woke up in a different time, but they let the silence hold for a while more while they try to calm their beating heart. After a while, they take a deep breath, and start telling the story.
They talk about how their supposed “failed” time travel machine actually worked, about how it shot them forward 82 years. They talk about how confused and scared they were, stuck in a time where everything they knew about the world didn’t matter anymore in the face of the new society and technology. They talk about how they failed to replicate the machine countless of times, and, with no way back to 1862, made a life for themselves in 1944 as a pilot. They talk about how much they hated their life in the future, lonely and longing for their old life, despite being successful in their career, despite having many “friends” through fighting the Japanese.
While talking, their voice breaks more than once, and sometimes they can’t continue talking without feeling the need to cry, but Lolo gently encourages them to continue their story, and so they do. They continue to tell about how a good shot brought their plane down in the sea, about how they thought they were going to die, about how happy they actually were at the thought. Then, finally, they talk about waking up to the familiar sight of sun over sea, about how they found their initials still carved on their rock, and about how they ran through the maze of a forest with hope growing in their chest- hope that they are finally back in their own time.
They end their story, and the silence that follows after is deafening. They feel anxiety pool in their gut as Lolo remains silent, and it only increases when Lolo starts talking.
Lolo tells them about what happened in the ten years they were gone. He tells them how much they were grieved by him, and their heart clenches at the information. Lolo talks about how painful it was for the two of them to lose them, about how they didn’t have time to properly grieve for a while because Spaniards seized control of the town after news of the failed experiment reached their ears. Apparently, the two were questioned by them, and the priests judged them, spouting accusations of attempts to play god. And even though Lolo says that they eventually left them and the town alone, they feel guilt clawing at the edges of their mind.
Lolo tells him how he abandoned all his experiments and machinery after losing them to a failed one, and how he drowned himself in trying to balance working in the fields and studying the sciences on his own in an effort to distract himself from the gaping hole in his heart.
His words wash over them until the only thing left is guilt.
V. IN FOR DOOM (at least I’m with you)
After talking, Lolo falls silent, and then stands up abruptly. He makes a motion telling them to follow him, and they too stand up and follow him into a room in the corner of the house.
Inside, they see stacks upon stacks of his machineries and boxes of abandoned experiments. They can still remember what most of them are for, and it pulls at their heart to see them put away, never to see the sun again.
Lolo walks over to one of the shelves and pulls out a small machine. It’s about the size of his hand and, compared to the other machines with several odds and ends, looks simple and unextraordinary, but Lolo’s face tell them that this machine is something more. Before they can ask, Lolo starts talking.
They are silent while Lolo explains the research he has been conducting in their absence. They let the words be the only thing to fill the room, not once speaking up. Once Lolo is done, their mind works to process everything he just said. They try to focus on all the details about Lolo’s time travel studies, but they can only focus on one word.
Doomed.
They are doomed in this timeline, whether it be doomed to die a painful death sooner or later, or doomed to experience tragedy in this life. They really should’ve expected this; of course they can’t stay, but they can’t help the tears that prick the corner of their eyes, can’t help that their heart feels utterly crushed.
Lolo looks at him for a moment, then holds out the small machine in his hand to them. He explains how the machine is a working time travel machine and, if they want it, they could have it to either jump across timelines forever, never staying in one long enough to be doomed in it, or to return to 1944, the only safe time for them to stay in.
Neither one of those options is an option that they want to choose, but they know that they have no choice. They know that they will regret it in the future, but staying here will only cause him more harm and pain when their doom catches up to them. They swallow hard.
They start to reach for the small machine until a voice calling for Lolo outside the room stops them.
They know that voice anywhere.
Before Lolo can even move, they turn around from him and his machine and throw open the door to the living room. He is facing away from them, looking for Lolo in a separate room, but they can already catalogue how much he changed.
He has grown, just like them, but whereas they built a reasonable amount of muscle mass, he was leaner and thinner than them. His hair has grown too, and right now he has it tied in a small ponytail low on the back of his head. There are a thousand more differences, but they are too busy trying to ignore the pounding in his heart to notice them.
Before fear can take over them, they call out his name.
He whips around and promptly freezes. The two stare at each other.
Now able to see his face, they see that more has changed about him. His eyes look harder, and the bags under them deeper. There is a scar on the edge of his lip, and slight stubble on his chin. He looks sharper, more roughed out with work-blistered hands, but they can still recognize the way his hair falls over his face; they can still recognize his cheekbones, the deep brown of his eyes, his kind arms.
They know that he is also cataloguing all their differences by the flicker of his eyes all over them. After a while, they meet each other’s eyes. They are about to say an apology- anything to break the silence in between them, when he rushes forward and hugs the life out of him.
If they have any resolve left, it leaves them the moment they feel him clinging on to them like a lifeline.
They hug him back as tightly- a clear message.
I won’t leave again.
Not paying any mind to Lolo watching them from the doorway, they cry into each other’s shoulders and whisper apologies and never again ’s. Then he pulls back and they can tell by the look on his face that he knows; he knows that they are doomed.
He is probably about to say so, is probably about to tell them to leave before they can suffer even if it means losing them again, because he is loving and caring and selfless like that. Before he can say anything though, they pull him in again into a tight hug. After a while, they put their head against his and look straight in his eyes.
His breath hitches, and a tear streaks down his cheek. They reach up and wipe it away. Looking at him, they realize that they can’t leave, not now, not ever. So they look into deep brown eyes, and with all the sincerity in world, they say,
“If I’m going to be doomed I’d rather be doomed with you.”