Own Selves

A deafening silence befell the living room. No sound could be heard, for everyone held their breaths, consciously or not. Be it because of surprise, fear, or nervosity, no one dared to utter a word and kept quiet. The time seemed to slow until it halted. The bomb Tristan had dropped without warning had frozen everything in its path, including people, and now the boy stood still, awaiting the sentence that would soon follow. He was like a criminal on death row.

Tristan didn't move an inch and stood before his brothers and Stephan, his head held low. He was clenching his fists with so much strength that his nails dug into the palms of his hands, and blood trickled between his fingers. The child barely registered the ticklish feeling or the pain, for his heart ached too much to care for anything else.

When the first drop of blood hit the floor, the standstill shattered, and the halted time returned to its course. 

"Tristan." 

Jake's voice resounded, calm but emotionless. It startled the child, making him slightly shrink on himself. Although he knew that after revealing his secret, his brother's demeanor would change around him, it nevertheless hurt, and far more than he thought it would. Yet, he had to steel himself and accept it. 

"Come closer."

The order was said firmly, and knowing he had no right to protest, Tristan obeyed without a fuss. He did not dare lift his eyes, however. It was too hard to face his beloved brother, and the boy stared at the man's feet instead. Whatever was coming next, he had long convinced himself he deserved it. He could not refuse the punishment or the alienation that was about to befall him due to his past selves' actions. The past could not be changed, and he had to live with the consequences. Gabriel and Misha were the prime examples of what happened when a mortal dared to meddle with their past, and Tristan learned the lesson. No matter how much he wanted to change things and give his past brothers a good life instead, it was impossible. 

All Tristan could do was ensure Jake wouldn't suffer because of him this time. And that was all he wished, too. He would do anything to reach this goal – whether it was to sacrifice his own happiness or die in a ditch, he would do it without a second thought. His brothers were his most important people, and he would never make the same mistake as his past selves.

But what came next wasn't anything Tristan could have ever predicted. It was the only option he hadn't considered. Or, more like, the only one he hadn't allowed himself to think of.

Although Tristan slowly tiptoed toward his brother, the distance between them still closed off, and he reached arm's length at one point. Then, Jake put the small aquarium aside on the couch and grabbed his little brother's shoulders. The child tensed, getting himself ready for the incoming pain. But instead of being hit, he was dragged into Jake's arms. His brother gently pushed his head against his chest, and his free hand stroked his back in a gentle, paternal-like gesture. It left Tristan frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening. Why was he being hugged? Wasn't his brother going to hit him? For all he did in his past lives, he deserved a good beating, if anything.

"I told you, didn't I?" Jake sighed. "Or, have you already forgotten?"

"W-what?" Tristan stuttered, taken aback by the softness and gentleness in his brother's voice. There was sorrow underneath but no hatred, no anger. His mind blanked out as Jake kissed his forehead. The caring gesture was soon followed by words he had heard before but hadn't dared to take to heart.

 "Let me refresh your memory, then. Didn't I tell you these dreams are only nightmares? They won't ever happen in real life. You will never hurt me: you are not that man, and you will never be."

"H-huh?"

"Stop clenching your firsts. You're hurting yourself," Jake shook his head, peering at a smiling Stephan beside him. "Can you go fetch some bandages? There are some in the pharmacy in the bathroom upstairs. I think he cut his palms."

"Yes, sir! On my way." 

As Stephan bolted upstairs, Jake helped the child settle on his thighs. His little brother was shaking like a leaf, and he could see the boy biting his bottom lip with so much strength it drew beads of blood. It tugged at his heartstrings, and he cupped Tristan's face to lift it so their eyes met. 

"Didn't I just tell you to stop hurting yourself?" 

"Huh? I, huh…"

It was clear as day the boy's mind was in the middle of a meltdown. He couldn't process what was going on and barely managed to react to Jake's words or actions. Jake could understand why. Tristan had probably imagined the worst-case scenario and convinced himself that was how it'd end. Now that things were going in a completely different direction, he could not accept it, even if it was a happy ending. He blamed himself too much, even though it was for things he hadn't done. These were choices his past selves had made without his consent. He hadn't ordered those things to be done to his brother.

Although… Jake could talk. At first, he also held such thoughts, thinking this little brother wouldn't be any different from the man of his past lives. But thanks to Gabriel's forceful approach, Jake spent time with Tristan and got to know him. He might share some traits with his past selves, as they were still born as the same baby and had the same brain, but he was growing into a distinct person, deviating from the previous paths. Tristan shouldn't have to shoulder these men's crimes, especially not at his age.

"Tristan," Jake said, pressing his forehead against the boy's. What that kid needed right now was the truth and not false reassurance. "I won't lie to you: I still have nightmares about those days, and I do sometimes flinch when you get near. It'll probably take years before the shadows of our past lives fade. But I'd like to clarify something with you, as someone who also has memories of his past lives. I remember what these people went through. I know their feelings, thoughts, and pains, and for a long time, I mistook them for my own. But you know what? There are choices they made that the current me wouldn't make. I don't agree with everything they did, nor everything they thought."

Jake paused to smile and let the words sink in. He stared into his brother's eyes, where tears had started to well. 

"Of course, it's hard to differentiate between them and me because, in the end, our starting point was the same, and it feels like their life experience had been transferred to me. Still, you should never forget that the dreams you go through are reflections of their lives, not yours. You're not your past selves, or should I say, other selves. The same goes for me. You have never wronged me in this life, and I won't hold you accountable for what those men did. I admit I was scared of what you could become because of these memories, but you made me realize I was looking at you with bias. You're a lovely child, albeit a little clingy at times."

A chuckle escaped Jake as a few clingy moments flashed through his mind. Since the kidnapping incident, Tristan was glued to him like a second skin. Whenever he could, he would latch onto him like an octopus. Over time, Jake had grown accustomed to the extra weight hanging onto his arm or leg, to the point where he felt empty this past week as Tristan unconsciously kept his distance. It felt like something was missing from his everyday life, and loneliness struck him when he least expected it. It was strange how once he got used to the boy's presence in his life, he could not live without it anymore. Deep down, he recognized what kind of feeling that was, whether he liked it or not, for it was identical to what his other selves felt with their children—a sort of unconditional love hard to describe.

Ah, it was too late now. The kid had wormed his way inside his heart.

"So, I'll repeat it." Jake smiled, "these memories are only nightmares that will not come true. Never."

At last, those words seemed to go through Tristan. Reality crashed in, and a dam burst. Tears flooded down his cheeks more than ever as he clung to his brother, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding on tightly as if afraid Jake would change his mind and toss him aside. Tristan's voice was shaky, and half-broken words left his mouth. Everything he had suppressed all these years flew out, and even if he tried to stop himself, he couldn't. He cried, bawled his eyes out, and screamed. Amidst the chaos, he hiccuped what he had repeatedly told himself night after night. Now, he could say it aloud.

"I-I don't want you to hate me!"

"I don't."

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"You won't."

"I'm not a monster! I'm not unfeeling!"

"I know."

"I love my brothers and want them to be happy," Tristan cried harder. "I want them to be the happiest people on earth. I-I just…"

"And we love you too and want you to be happy too."

"I concur," Gabriel, who had been silent and watching from the sideline, added. He scurried closer and hugged his brothers in a warm embrace. "It must have been hard to endure this alone, and we can only imagine how much courage it took you to tell us. It was brave of you. And I'm sorry for not having noticed sooner." 

These words of comfort, which were neither exaggerated nor adorned, threw Tristan into another crying fit. He wept in his brothers' embrace, and his cries resounded throughout the house. No one said anything more, knowing the child needed to pour out years of lonely agony. 

Misha watched with tears welling in his eyes while Stephan leaned against the doorframe with the bandages in one hand. The man also watched in silence, a content smile on his lips. Although Jake never brought it up, Stephan knew just how much he had been bothered by his little brother's nightmares. Now that everything was in the open, they could break free from the chains put on them by their past lives and live their lives to the fullest in this one. They didn't have to be restrained and tormented by old ghosts.

They were their own selves, and those from the past should stay in the past.