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A teenage boy sat on that couch, wearing cargo shorts so baggy they looked like a parachute. The boy was laughing—a wheezing, desperate laugh—at a small CRT television.

Suddenly, the grainy image shuddered. A pop-up materialized on top of the memory. It wasn't a normal pop-up. It was a dialog box made of static and rain: 10starhd lol

Arjun leaned closer. The boy on the couch looked... familiar. The same cowlick in the hair. The same way of chewing his lower lip when concentrating. A teenage boy sat on that couch, wearing

It was him. Arjun, fifteen years ago.

It wasn't wheezing. It wasn't desperate. 10starhd lol