Three weeks in Riverside.

Ankon had settled into a rhythm he didn't know was possible.

Mornings: Work at the auto shop. Grease under his nails, classic rock on the radio, simple honest labor that didn't require him to watch his back.

Afternoons: The group. Casey's basement or Tyler's garage or Ben's chaotic living room. D&D campaigns that made no sense. Movies on VHS. Arguments about music.

Evenings: Ethan's house. Dinner with his mom, who'd stopped asking questions and just started setting an extra plate. Homework he'd help Ethan with—math came easy when you'd lived through 2027's collapsed education system.

Nights: The roof. Cigarettes and stars and silence.

It was the closest thing to peace Ankon had ever known.

And it terrified him.

This isn't real. This isn't mine. I'm borrowing someone else's life.

But he kept staying anyway.

One afternoon at Casey's basement:

The group was sprawled across couches and beanbags, arguing about whether The Breakfast Club or Ferris Bueller was the better movie.

"Breakfast Club, no question," Casey said. "It's got depth."

"Ferris Bueller has a PARADE SCENE," Ben countered. "Depth is overrated."

Tyler looked at Ankon. "You've been quiet. What do you think?"

Ankon, who'd been zoning out, blinked. "I haven't seen either."

The room went silent.

"...Excuse me?" Casey said.

"We're fixing this," Ethan declared, already grabbing tapes. "Movie marathon. Tonight. Non-negotiable."

"I have homework—" Ankon started.

"You're from 2027, you already know how everything turns out. Homework can wait."

That night, crammed on Casey's couch:

Six of them squeezed together—Casey, Ben, Tyler, Ethan, Lena, and Ankon at the end, trying to take up as little space as possible.

Halfway through The Breakfast Club, during the emotional breakdown scene, Ankon felt someone watching him.

Lena.

She quickly looked away when he caught her, but not before he saw the expression on her face.

Curiosity. Confusion. Something else.

Ethan's arm was around her shoulders. She leaned into him.

She's his. Not yours.

Ankon looked back at the screen.

After the movie:

"So?" Casey asked. "Verdict?"

"It's good," Ankon admitted.

"GOOD?!" Ben threw popcorn at him. "It's a MASTERPIECE."

"Okay, masterpiece."

Ethan grinned. "See? We're educating him. This is growth."

"Next week: Back to the Future," Tyler announced.

"He'll love that one," Lena said quietly. "Time travel."

Ankon met her eyes for a second.

She knows. She always knows.

But the best part of those weeks?

Ankon found himself slipping into a version of himself he didn't recognize.

Confident. Relaxed. Almost... cool.

King Ankon energy, as Ben would later call it.

At the auto shop:

A customer's daughter came in with her dad, maybe nineteen, and kept glancing at Ankon while he worked.

"You're new here, right?" she asked when her dad stepped away.

"Yeah. Few weeks."

"I'm Sarah."

"Ankon."

"That's a unique name. You're not from around here."

"Bangladesh. Originally."

"That's so cool." She smiled. "Maybe I could show you around Riverside sometime? There's this diner—"

"He's busy," Casey's voice cut in. She'd appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Very busy. Fully booked."

Sarah blinked. "Oh. Okay. Sorry."

After she left, Casey smirked. "You're welcome."

"I didn't need saving."

"Sure you didn't, King Ankon."

“King!?”

“Ben gave you that title. He says you’re his inspiration.”

Ankon rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

At school (Ethan dragged him to lunch once):

Ankon sat at their usual table, feeling out of place in the cafeteria full of teenagers.

A group of girls walked past. One of them did a double-take.

"Who's that?" she whispered, not quietly enough.

"I don't know but damn," her friend replied.

Ethan noticed and laughed. "Dude you're getting looks."

"I don't care about looks."

"Yeah but it's funny watching you be oblivious."

Lena, sitting across from them, said quietly, "He's not oblivious. He just doesn't care."

Ethan kissed her temple. "Fair point."

Ankon looked away.

The dynamics were shifting.

Ankon wasn't just "Ethan's friend from out of state" anymore.

He was part of the group.

Casey called him when she needed someone to vent to.

Ben dragged him into increasingly elaborate campaign ideas.

Tyler loaned him books and actually wanted to discuss them.

And Ethan...

Ethan treated him like a brother. Trusted him. Confided in him.

This is what having friends feels like.

But there was a problem brewing.

The portal.

Ankon had been thinking about it. A lot.

The original one in Dhaka was one-way, unstable. He'd gotten lucky.

But what if he could build a stable two-way connection?

Not to leave permanently. But to have the option. To not be trapped.

(That's what he told himself, anyway.)

He started sketching designs in Ethan's room at night.

More refined this time. Smaller. Using 1985 technology, which was primitive but workable.

"What's that?" Ethan asked one night, looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing."

"That's definitely not nothing. Is that... a portal?"

Ankon sighed. "I'm trying to make a stable two-way version. So I can... I don't know. Go back if I need to."

"Why would you need to?"

"I left without telling my mom. She probably thinks I'm dead."

Ethan's expression softened. "Shit. Yeah, okay. That makes sense. You need help?"

"You know anything about electromagnetic resonance?"

"I know a guy who might."

Tyler, it turned out, was a physics nerd.

"This is insane," Tyler said, looking at the designs. "But theoretically possible. You'd need a stable power source on both ends."

"I have access to the auto shop's equipment."

"And you'd need precise dimensional coordinates."

"I remember where I came from. The park. I can triangulate from there."

Tyler grinned. "Let's build a fucking portal."

Two weeks of late nights.

Ankon, Ethan, and Tyler working in Ethan's garage.

Ben occasionally helping (badly).

Casey supervising and calling them idiots.

Lena bringing them food and watching quietly.

Finally, it worked.

A circular frame, smaller than the original. Mounted against Ethan's bedroom wall like a strange mirror.

When activated, it shimmered—a stable, breathable distortion.

On the other side: Ankon's room in Dhaka.

"Holy shit," Ethan breathed. "You can see through it."

Ankon stepped closer. His room looked exactly as he'd left it. Wires everywhere. Calculations on the walls.

Empty.

"I need to go through," Ankon said. "Just for a minute. Let my mom know I'm alive."

"Want company?"

"No. I'll be quick."

He stepped through.

The transition was smoother this time. Less violent.

He landed in his room. 2027. The air smelled like smoke and exhaust.

Downstairs, he heard his mother moving around.

Ankon took a breath and went down.

His mother screamed when she saw him.

"ANKON?! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"I'm okay, Ma. I'm fine."

"FINE?! You disappear for WEEKS, the power keeps going out, your room is destroyed, and you say you're FINE?!"

"I'm sorry. I just... I needed to get away."

She grabbed his face, checking for injuries. "Where did you go?"

America. 1985. To meet another version of my soul.

"Just... staying with a friend. I'm okay. I promise."

She pulled him into a hug, and he realized she was crying.

"Don't do that again," she whispered.

"I won't."

He went back upstairs.

Grabbed some clothes. Some money he'd hidden.

Looked at his room one last time.

This was my life. This was all I had.

And now...

He stepped back through the portal.

Ethan was waiting on the other side.

"You good?"

"Yeah. She's... she's okay."

"Good." Ethan studied the portal. "So this is permanent now? You can go back and forth?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. You're not trapped here."

But I want to be.

Life continued.

The portal stayed hidden in Ethan's room, a secret between them.

Ankon went back to Dhaka occasionally—to check on his mom, to maintain appearances.

But he always came back to Riverside.

To the group.

To the peace.

To the life he was starting to believe might actually be his.

Until the infamous night.

Ankon was in Dhaka.

Sitting in his room, smoking, trying to finish some sketches.

Through the portal, he could hear voices.

Ethan's room. On the other side.

Laughter. Soft music.

Ethan and Lena.

Ankon tried to ignore it.

It's fine. They're together. That's normal.

But then the laughter shifted.

Quieter. More intimate.

Oh.

Ankon stood up, intending to close his side of the portal for privacy.

But then he heard—

A kiss.

Soft. Slow.

Lena's quiet laugh.

Ethan's low voice: "You're so beautiful."

Ankon's jaw tightened.

Stop. Don't listen. Give them privacy.

But another kiss.

And another.

And Ankon felt something ugly twist in his chest.

That's me. That's MY soul. And she's—

No. She's HIS. Not mine.

Another sound. Movement.

"Ethan," Lena whispered, breathless.

Ankon snapped.

He stepped through the portal.

Ethan's room.

They broke apart immediately.

Ethan, flushed, sitting on his bed.

Lena, hair messed up, eyes wide.

Both staring at Ankon like he'd materialized out of thin air.

(He had.)

"Dude!" Ethan said. "What the hell?!"

"Keep it down," Ankon said flatly, lighting a cigarette. "I can hear you from the other side."

"So?! Close the portal!"

"I was trying to WORK. You're being loud."

"We're not being—" Ethan stopped. "Wait. You can hear through it?"

"Every word. Every sound." Ankon took a drag. "So if you're gonna make out, at least keep it quiet. Some of us are single and suffering."

Lena's face was bright red.

Ethan looked between them, then started laughing. "Oh my god. You're jealous."

"I'm annoyed."

"You're jealous."

"I'm ANNOYED."

Lena covered her face with her hands, mortified.

Ethan was still laughing. "This is the funniest thing that's ever happened."

"I'm leaving," Ankon muttered, turning back to the portal.

"Wait—" Lena said suddenly.

He stopped.

She looked at him, her face still flushed but her expression serious. "I'm sorry. We didn't think about... I mean, we didn't realize you could hear—"

"It's fine," Ankon cut her off. "You're together. That's normal. Just... be quieter."

He stepped through before either of them could respond.

Back in Dhaka.

Ankon sat on his floor, head in his hands.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why do I care?

She's not mine. She's his. That's how it should be.

I'm just borrowing this life.

I don't get to be jealous.

But he was.

The next day, things were awkward.

Ethan kept smirking at him.

Lena avoided eye contact.

Casey, who'd somehow heard about it (probably from Ethan), found it hilarious.

"King Ankon got cockblocked by interdimensional travel," she announced.

"I hate all of you," Ankon muttered.

But things went back to normal eventually.

Until exam season hit.

Ethan had finals coming up.

Ankon realized he'd been gone from Dhaka for almost two months. His own exams were approaching.

"I need to go back," he told Ethan one night. "For like a week. Handle exams. Keep up appearances."

"Makes sense. You coming back after?"

"Yeah. Obviously."

Ethan smiled. "Good. It's weird without you here now."

Ankon stepped through the portal back to Dhaka.

Back to the heat. The noise. The chaos.

It felt suffocating now.

He went to campus the next day to confirm exam schedules.

Walking through the halls, he felt like a ghost.

This was supposed to be his life.

But it didn't feel real anymore.

Professor Hasan's office.

Ankon knocked, intending to just grab his exam schedule and leave.

"Ankon!" The professor looked surprised. "I haven't seen you in weeks. Where have you been?"

"Around. Just needed a break."

"Are you alright? You look... different."

I'm living in 1985 Oregon with a parallel version of my soul and his friends and I accidentally walked in on him kissing his girlfriend through an interdimensional portal.

"I'm fine," Ankon said.

Professor Hasan studied him, then nodded slowly. "If you say so." He handed over the exam schedule. "Oh, wait. There was something I forgot to mention. About the timeline theory."

Ankon paused at the door. "What?"

"It's about overlapping timelines. When the same soul exists in two active timelines simultaneously." Professor Hasan flipped through his notes. "The math suggests it's unstable. Quantum mechanics doesn't allow for two instances of the same consciousness to persist indefinitely in active states."

"What does that mean?"

"It means..." The professor looked up. "One timeline has to become dormant for the other to remain stable. Usually through... well, death. When one version dies, the soul can fully inhabit the other timeline without paradox."

Ankon's blood went cold.

"What?"

"It's theoretical, of course. But if two timelines with the same soul are both active, they're essentially borrowing time from each other. Eventually, one has to—"

"Stop," Ankon said.

No.

No no no.

"Ankon? Are you—"

He didn't wait for the professor to finish.

He ran.

Back to his room.

Through the portal.

Into Ethan's room.

Empty.

Ankon's mind raced.

Same soul. Two timelines. Both active.

"One has to become dormant."

I'm here. In Ethan's timeline. We're both active.

Which means—

He grabbed his notebook. Started doing the math.

Ethan's birth year: 1969.

Current year in his timeline: 1985.

Ethan's age: 16.

Ankon's birth year: 2009.

Current year in his timeline: 2027.

Ankon's age: 18.

Wait.

If we're the same soul...

And the timelines are only a few years apart in soul-age...

That means Ethan's timeline is moving SLOWER relative to mine.

Or—

Ankon's pen stopped.

Or Ethan dies soon.

And I'm born shortly after.

I'm not from a parallel present.

I'm from his FUTURE.

I'm his next life.

The notebook slipped from his hands.

That's why the portal brought me here.

That's why we feel the same.

Because I'm literally him. Reborn. Respawned.

And if we're both alive right now...

One of us has to die.

The door opened.

Ethan walked in, laughing about something, then stopped when he saw Ankon's face.

"Whoa. You okay?"

Ankon stared at him.

This sixteen-year-old kid who had friends and a girlfriend and a future.

This version of himself that was happy.

That deserved to stay happy.

"Yeah," Ankon lied. "I'm fine."

But he wasn't.

Because he'd just realized the truth.

He was never meant to stay here.

He was meant to save Ethan.

Even if it cost him everything.