Lucian sniffled once, brushing the back of his hand across his nose. "I don't need your help," he muttered, glaring at Rohan's extended hand like it was an insult.
Rohan arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Then where exactly do you plan to go, kid?"
"I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen already," Lucian said, defensive.
"Sure. A seventeen year old boy who cries in alleys," Rohan replied dryly.
Lucian opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again.
Rohan folded his arms. "Let's be realistic. You've got no home, no money, no identification, and you happen to look exactly like the manor's young master…which, by the way, you said is your future uncle. What are you going to do when people call you Lance?"
Lucian hesitated. "I'll… correct them."
"And when they don't believe you?"
"Then I'll—" He paused. "Run away again."
Rohan laughed, short and amused. "Yeah, that went really well last time."
Lucian scowled, crossing his arms, cheeks flushed.
Seeing that he had won, Rohan's smirk widened. "Thought so. You need me, kid."
Lucian grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'arrogant caveman'.
Rohan pretended not to hear and said cheerfully, "Alright, since we're partners in this little mess, we'll need a story."
"A story?"
"Yup. You can't just walk around being 'Lance-but-not-Lance.'"
Rohan's eyes lit up with mischief. "Let's tell them you're my sister's uncle's cousin's nephew's son."
Lucian blinked. "What?"
"The more confusing, the better," Rohan said seriously, nodding to himself. "People won't bother trying to figure it out."
"That makes no sense!" Lucian cried.
"That's the point," Rohan replied, deadpan. "If it's complicated enough, they'll give up halfway through."
Lucian groaned, rubbing his temples. "You're insane."
"Thank you."
Rohan's grin softened into something more cautious. "Look, we'll tell Ellis and Lance you're a distant relative visiting for a while. They'll believe it."
Lucian frowned. "Would they, though?"
"Those two?" Rohan snorted. "They'd believe a duck could fly if you told them it was just a different kind of bird."
Lucian let out an unwilling laugh, then quickly hid it behind a cough.
The air shifted again—Rohan's smile faded, replaced by something steadier, darker. "Listen," he said quietly, "there's something you can't tell them. Ever."
Lucian looked up, wary. "What?"
"About Ellis."
Lucian's amusement died.
Rohan met his gaze, expression unreadable. "You can't let them know he dies. Not a word. Not even a hint."
Lucian swallowed, throat tight. "I wasn't planning to."
"Good." Rohan paused, then asked, "Do you remember when it happens?"
Lucian hesitated. "A month from now."
For a split second, something broke in Rohan's eyes—an emotion so raw it startled Lucian. It vanished just as quickly, buried under a steady mask.
"I see," Rohan said, tone even again.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of distant cars and gulls filling the air. Then Rohan spoke, more quietly now.
"Maybe that's why you're here."
Lucian blinked. "What?"
Rohan turned his gaze toward the end of the alley, sunlight glinting off his hair. "Maybe you're not here by accident. Maybe you're supposed to change something."
"Change… what?"
"The past."
Lucian stared.
Rohan's tone was matter-of-fact, but there was a strange fire in his eyes. "If Ellis dies a month from now, and that's what leads Lance to… well, everything that followed—then maybe you're meant to stop it. To save them both."
Lucian wanted to scoff, but he couldn't. The idea made too much sense. His thoughts flickered to his grandfather's trembling hands, to the empty look on his uncle's face in all of his photographs.
If he could prevent it…
He looked up. "You think I can really change it?"
Rohan shrugged. "You're already here. That's something."
Lucian fell silent, considering. Maybe Rohan was right. Maybe fate—or whatever cruel thing had dragged him here—was giving him a second chance to rewrite a tragedy no one ever understood.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Then I'll try."
Rohan smiled faintly, holding out his hand again. "Then we'll try."
This time, Lucian took it.
_________________
They walked together out of the alley and back into the busy street. Afternoon sunlight stretched long across the pavement, and the smell of gasoline and freshly baked bread mingled in the air.
Old cars rolled by, their polished chrome gleaming. Somewhere, from a diner window, soft pop music played—catchy but unfamiliar. Lucian found himself staring at everything like it was a movie set.
"This really is 1985," he muttered.
"Hmm?" Rohan glanced at him.
"Nothing."
Rohan stretched his arms behind his head, casual as ever. "You'll get used to it. Anyway, you can crash at my place until we figure out something more permanent."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "You live near the manor?"
"Pretty close," Rohan said. "I'm Lance's bodyguard, so I have to be nearby."
That made Lucian pause. "Bodyguard?"
Rohan nodded. "Lance's father hired me when I was eight years old. His old man's paranoid about the family's reputation—wants someone around to make sure the heir doesn't get into trouble."
"Does that… happen often?" Lucian asked carefully.
Rohan gave him a long-suffering look. "You met him for five minutes. You tell me."
Lucian snorted softly. "Fair point."
They turned down a smaller road lined with modest houses. Rohan spoke as they walked, his voice more reflective now.
"My parents used to work for the Lowells. Groundskeeper and cook. They died when I was turning eight in an accident. The old man let me stay on the property. Guess he felt responsible."
Lucian blinked. "You grew up there?"
"More or less. Ellis and Lance were my only company back then. We drove each other crazy."
Something softened in his expression at the mention of Ellis.
Lucian hesitated before asking, "What kind of person is Ellis?"
Rohan's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Too good for this world. Smart, polite, quiet. The kind of guy who thanks you even when you bump into him."
Lucian smiled faintly. "Sounds like someone I'd like."
"You would. Everyone does. Except maybe…" Rohan's voice trailed off.
"Except who?"
Rohan sighed. "Lance's father. For some reason, he can't stand Ellis. Every time he sees the guy, he looks like he's biting back an insult."
Lucian stopped walking. "My grandfather?"
"Your what?"
"Nothing," Lucian said quickly, heart pounding. He forced a weak laugh. "It's just… hard to imagine."
Rohan gave him a sideways look but didn't press further.
They reached a small house tucked behind an overgrown fence. The yard was cluttered with an old motorcycle, stacked crates, and what looked suspiciously like a half-broken washing machine.
"This is your place?" Lucian asked.
Rohan grinned. "Welcome to Casa Rohan."
He pushed open the door, and Lucian's jaw nearly dropped.
It was chaos. Papers and tools covered the table, books leaned dangerously against the wall, and a pile of laundry sat like a defeated mountain on the couch. A cat darted out from under a chair and vanished.
"You live in this… mess?" Lucian managed.
Rohan shrugged, stepping over a wrench. "Organized chaos. I know where everything is."
"Except the floor," Lucian muttered.
Rohan grinned. "Floor's overrated."
Lucian sighed and stared at the disaster in front of him. Somehow, this—this—was supposed to be his refuge.
He rubbed his temples again. "I survived time travel, but this might kill me."
Rohan laughed, leaning against the doorway. "You'll live… Probably."
Lucian shot him a look, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time since arriving, he didn't feel completely lost. Maybe because of the warmth in Rohan's grin—or maybe because chaos, in its own strange way, felt alive.