Painted in Fate

Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

The world around them felt eerily silent as Babe and Billy stood frozen, staring at each other across the garden. Neither moved, but everything had changed. The air between them was thick with emotions neither of them could fully understand, yet they felt it—an unmistakable, almost overwhelming connection that had lingered in the shadows for lifetimes.

Babe's eyes were still wet with tears, the emotional storm inside him far too intense for words. He felt a deep, inexplicable sadness, like he had lost something precious long ago and only now realized its absence. And yet, seeing Billy—this man he had painted over and over again, the man who had haunted his dreams—it felt like the final piece of a puzzle was sliding into place.

But the pain that accompanied it was unbearable. It was as if his heart had been shattered in another lifetime, and now, standing here in front of Billy, all that heartbreak had come rushing back in full force.

"Why... why do I feel like this?" Babe whispered, his voice barely audible, but loud enough in the quiet of the garden.

Billy's chest tightened. He wanted to answer, to give some sort of explanation, but the truth was, he didn't have one. He felt the same surge of emotions—the possessiveness, the guilt, the love, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. But why? Why did he feel like he had already failed this boy before? Why did he feel like he had lost him once and couldn't bear to lose him again?

"I... I don't know," Billy admitted, taking another step forward. "But I feel it too."

They stood there in silence for a few more moments, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on them both. Babe wiped the tears from his face, trying to regain some composure, but the feelings were too strong. His hands trembled as he glanced back at Billy, unsure whether to step closer or run away.

Billy was about to say something, but before he could, the world seemed to shift again.

Suddenly, like a jolt of electricity, a fragmented memory surged through Billy's mind. He saw himself, younger, running through an unfamiliar field toward a house engulfed in flames. His heart pounded in his chest as he ran faster and faster, desperate to reach someone—someone important. Someone he loved.

The memory was sharp but fleeting, disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared. Billy gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he staggered back slightly, one hand reaching out to steady himself against the garden wall.

Babe noticed the sudden change in Billy's expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern replacing some of the confusion in his voice.

Billy shook his head, trying to make sense of the images flashing in his mind. "I... I saw something. I don't know what it was, but it felt real. Too real."

"What did you see?" Babe pressed, stepping closer now, the distance between them shrinking.

"It was like... like a memory," Billy said slowly. "But it wasn't from this life. I was running toward something, something important... and then... flames. There were flames everywhere."

Babe's breath hitched. Flames. He had seen flames too, in his dreams, in those rare moments when his visions shifted from Billy's face to something darker, more terrifying. Could this be connected? Was it possible that they had shared the same memory?

Before either of them could say more, Billy's phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him momentarily out of the strange trance they were in. He glanced down at the screen, blinking in surprise when he saw Nana's name.

It was a message.

Hey, just checking in. You okay?

You've been acting weird lately, and I'm not sure if you're going through a quarter-life crisis or something, but just know I'm here for you. Love ya.

Babe stared at the message for a second before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Leave it to Nana to break the tension, even without knowing what was going on.

"You good?" Billy asked, noticing Babe's momentary distraction.

Babe nodded. "Just Nana being... Nana."

Billy frowned slightly. "Who's Nana?"

"My best friend. You'll meet him eventually," Babe said, pocketing his phone. The weight of the previous moment had lightened slightly, but the confusion and emotional intensity still lingered between them.

"Do you think we knew each other... before?" Babe asked, the question hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

Billy didn't hesitate this time. "I don't think. I know."

His words hung in the air, heavy with certainty. Babe's heart raced at the admission. He wanted to know more, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for whatever truth was lurking just beneath the surface of these feelings.

As the two of them continued to stand in the garden, Billy's thoughts drifted back to the journal. His grandfather had told him about the healer clan and the debt his family owed, but the details had been scarce. Still, there was one thing he couldn't shake—his role in their downfall.

If Babe really was connected to the boy from the past, then what did that make Billy? Was he the reason everything had fallen apart? Was he the cause of all this pain and tragedy?

The guilt gnawed at him, even though he didn't fully understand why. He had never asked to be part of this, never asked to carry the weight of an ancient debt. But here he was, face to face with the boy whose family had been destroyed, whose life had been ripped apart by something Billy had a hand in.

Billy clenched his fists, the familiar sense of shame creeping up his spine. "Babe," he began, his voice low, "there's something you need to know."

Babe blinked, sensing the shift in Billy's tone. "What is it?"

Before Billy could answer, another fragment of memory flashed through his mind—this one clearer, more defined. He saw himself again, standing in a grand hall, facing a man who looked uncannily like his uncle Ed. There were words exchanged—commands, instructions—then the feeling of betrayal, sharp and piercing.

Billy's heart pounded in his chest. He didn't want to say it, but he had to. "I think... I think I hurt you. In the past."

Babe froze, his eyes widening as he stared at Billy. "What do you mean?"

Billy shook his head, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know for sure, but I think... I think I did something, something that caused you pain. Something I didn't understand at the time, but I did it anyway."

Babe's heart sank. He had felt it too—the betrayal, the heartbreak—but hearing Billy say it aloud made it feel all the more real. Could it really be true? Could the man standing in front of him, the man he felt so deeply connected to, have been the one who caused him so much pain in another life?

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until finally, Babe spoke. "Even if you did... I don't think you meant to."

Billy looked at him, surprised. "How do you know?"

"Because I feel it too," Babe whispered. "I don't understand all of this, but I know one thing for sure—you're not a bad person, Billy. You're not the villain of this story."