Chapter Text
31st December 2020
Aaron took another deep drink of his pint. He was tired. Not sleepy tired, but weary in his soul, and even though others were looking forward to the new year after the shitty year of 2020, Aaron wasn’t. 2021 didn’t give him any joy, because it’d be another year without Robert. Even though he’d stopped mentioning him all the time, Aaron missed him immensely. There was a limit to how many times Aaron could talk about his imprisoned husband in public without everyone thinking he was crazy or even worse, people feeling sorry for him. But the truth was, Aaron missed him more every day. So, he was doing the typical lonely old man bit of drinking his sorrows away. Admittedly, in the back room of his mums pub, but even so.
God, what he wouldn’t give to go back. Forget the global pandemic, he’d cope with that fine if he just had Robert with him. Actually, lockdown with Robert sounded fun, now that he thought about it. Aaron smiled to himself. Yeah, that could have been entertaining.
“It’s nearly the countdown, love,” Chas said, wondering if Aaron had actually fallen asleep on the sofa. He looked like he was halfway to unconsciousness.
“Yeah, I’ll skip it,” Aaron said, swapping the pint for the whisky bottle and a quick swig. “Here’s to 2021, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Chas said, closing the door and leaving him to it. Aaron drifted off to sleep right when the countdown in London hit “one! Happy new year!”
November 2014.
Aaron had a massive headache. Had he really drunk that much last night? He rolled over in bed, realising that he wasn’t on the sofa where he thought he was. Instead he was in his old bedroom at his mums, looking just like he remembered. Had he been that out of it that he couldn’t get back to the Mill? Tempting though it was to roll over and go back to sleep, he really should check the yard. He'd been avoiding it since the week before Christmas. A walk up there would do him good, fresh air and all that.
He pulled his jeans and hoodie on, not overthinking it and grabbed his phone. But… it wasn’t his phone. It was a strange weight, and actually, now he thought about it, it was very like his old phone. He left it on the charger where he’d found it. Well, he couldn’t have been that drunk to put a phone on charge, right? Aaron dug around the pockets of his jeans and hoodie but he couldn’t find a mask. “Come on,” he murmured to himself. He really could do with a coffee. But no, no mask at all. “Fine, I guess I’ll make myself a coffee at the yard.” Aaron thought to himself. He snuck out of the pub and made his way up to the yard. He normally drove, but he wasn’t sure he was sober enough and the cold air did him good anyway.
It wasn’t there. Aaron frowned, then started to panic. The yard genuinely... just wasn’t there. It was an empty messy patch of scrubland with nothing in it. “What the fuck?” Aaron said to himself. Was he dreaming? That must be it. Then, something which stopped him dead.
Val, walking Cheryl, her gorgeous black dog. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Val said, clearly teasing, but Aaron felt that he had seen a ghost. That was exactly the emotion he was going through. Val was… dead. Very, very dead. And yet, here she was, standing in front of him like she was real.
“Er, yeah, heavy night,” Aaron said, grappling for something to say. “Where’s the yard?”
“Ey?” Val asked, confused.
“Er… I don’t know, I’m just going to go.” Aaron wandered off, heading back down to the village, but his heart was racing. This wasn’t normal . What the hell was happening? Aaron rushed to the village shop, looking at the date on the newspaper. 5th November 2014. Aaron’s breath started to come in fits and starts, and he distantly wondered if this was what a full blown panic attack actually felt like. This was insanity. It couldn’t be 2014. That was literally impossible. Yeah, 2020 was a complete mess, but rewinding six years wasn’t logical. It just… wasn’t.
“Hey, you all right?” David asked, seeing Aaron hyperventilate over the newspaper rack.
“Fine,” Aaron gasped, racing back to the pub. This had to be some weird elaborate joke, right? “Heya love,” Chas said, flicking through her fashion magazines in the back.
“What date is it?”
“What?” Chas said, screwing up her eyes at him.
“Don’t mess around with me,” Aaron said. “It’s a funny joke, ha ha, I get it. Now, tell me what the date is?”
“What are you on?!” Chas snapped. “It’s November. I don’t know the date, it all blurs. Seventh?”
“Not January?” Aaron asked.
“Aaron!” Chas said, looking really annoyed and slightly alarmed.
“Who’s Eve?” Aaron said and Chas looked blankly at him. No way could she fake that. “I’ve gotta go.”
Where did he go? What did he do? Should he try going to sleep and waking back up in 2021? Would that even work? No, of course not. This is crazy. It couldn’t really be happening. What should he do?
Aaron got in his car (wilfully ignoring the fact it looked suspiciously like his 2014 car, not the one he drove now) and went up to Home Farm. There really only was one way to check. He parked at the top of the drive, noticing the gate wedged open and he hid behind the wall and shrubbery at the top. Not that he’d had a lot of practise or anything.
There was a large van at the house, workmen milling around it. Someone was moving out. Or moving in, Aaron guessed. He watched as the removal men unloaded boxes. Then Aaron saw Chrissie White- and Robert. Seeing Robert was like a shot of electricity to the system, adrenaline overloading him. He would always react to Robert’s presence like this, like he was completely magnetised by the man. Tall, blond, and… six years younger.
Aaron vomited behind the wall.