My glimpse of the future was very quick. Everyone told me it was just a dream or maybe the rest of the effects of the pot brownies still in my system. I felt crooked—existentially crooked if that helps. I felt like I was going to wake up every time I blinked, but my coin wasn't glitching on my night table when I was explaining everything to them. "I. Cannot. Die." That's what I said to them when I looked at my Suicune perfectly balanced.

I explained everything to them—my condition, dates, background, and symptoms. They also made me write it and even draw it to express myself adequately.

They suggested other possibilities, one of them being a severe mental disorder inherited from my mother. There were questions here and there, but I was only giving them vague answers, like when you forget all the fucking jokes you’ve heard throughout your entire life as soon as someone asks you to tell one. We spent the next days trying to refute everything, but then they suggested testing it. We didn't even know at first if we were being serious, but we started dropping crazy-shit ideas.

"Let's get a gun..." my friend Barnes whispered.

"Well... that's it. We're out of here. Let's pack our stuff and..."

"Shut up! Listen! Let’s. Get. A. Gun. My dealer knows a guy. He has them inside a suitcase. I'll tell him that I want to try one, so I'll pick one and bring it here. He trusts me..."

I was more than sure about my immortality thing, and hearing about a gun involved to test it wasn't a big surprise for me, but the rest were panicking, now doubting everyone's sanity.

"...Then, when we have our gun, we'll come up with an experiment to try to test your immortality thing, or whatever. After that, we return the gun back to the suitcase, or we keep it if we fuck up our lives in the future and we need an alternative source of income. I don't know, like robbing banks."

That last part was definitely a joke, meaning he was dead serious about experimenting with me.

Later I understood that he was just pretty sure I was suffering from a severe case of delusion caused by the brownies, so he was just trying to "scare me back to reality" by showing me a gun and "testing" or "teasing" me about actually shooting myself. That made a lot of sense, but... yeah, I already knew how real this immortality was.

Next week he showed up with the fucking gun—perhaps the exact same one I use to kill myself now, I'm not sure, but it was the same model, I think.

Those days were weird days. Sometimes no one wanted to talk about my condition and sometimes we were fighting because of the same thing over and over again... you know, the gun and stuff. Sometimes this was just another thing for us to geek around, but yeah, things got weirder. With the gun already there, my friend Barnes actually came up with an experiment one day—crayon drawings and everything, something that made us laugh a lot. It felt less grim for everyone.

"Glad you like it, now shut up..." he said. “We only have a general idea of this thing of yours. For some reason, I absolutely believe you're not lying. It's really troublesome for me to understand you, but maybe it's something simple, or natural. You don't have super powers or shit like that, maybe you're part of a bigger glitch in the matrix. We all have experienced déjà vus and things like that, but there are things you say that might be proof of something else, like your uncle's knickers... well, no, shut up, the... the... thing with the girl and all that."

"Yes, we know!" we said, still laughing.

"Yeah, that... You also said that sometimes you... sort of... resurrect in different lives? But apparently is more common when you resurrect in a scenario that looks like you just fainted in front of everyone."

"So, what's your theory?" we asked, so into it.

"I think our friend here dies and then he or his true self sees the quantum realm expanding—or some shit like that—and he uses it to travel to a different timeline. Maybe the timeline is here, in the same universe, or maybe he travels to a different one, again like that time at his grandma's party, when he came back upstairs—not in front of everyone. I don't know, man. Either alternate timelines or alternate universes, you're able to stay aware and attached to something during your transitions. Heck, maybe one day you'll reincarnate and remember your previous life."

"There's a song now during that transition, by the way," I added.

"Woah..." they all uttered. "Now it doesn't sound that crazy."

"What the fudge! So, you're planning to kill him?" asked Owen, with his voice cracking like it always did.

"This is what I think," Barnes continued, cleaning his glasses. "Maybe he's just fainting, but he dreams he dies. We have to come up with a setup where he can see the future before he dies so he can share it with us as proof. Again, like your uncle's knickers."

"Yeah, yeah! I see your point. Because if we just say: ‘Sure, man! Go ahead, shoot yourself,’ he's just going to faint and then wake up in front of us growling and gasping, saying that he did shoot himself. We need something like that. Yeah, yeah," they said, excited.

"What if he actually pulls the trigger?" my brother asked.

"If the theory is correct—and only if it’s correct—even if he pulls the trigger he's not going to die, right?" they asked.

"No... he is going to die, and in front of us, but there will be other us somewhere out there saying that he just fainted, or maybe realising that he's actually immortal—if you can call immortality to that," they said.

"Fuck, you're right..." Barnes said, breaking one crayon and frowning.

"The Desolation of Smaug," I said, staring at the Dungeons and Dragons miniatures on the table. "In the future—February 2014—we are going to watch The Hobbit movie. I already have a specific detail about the future."

"No... but... we already know about that movie, we even read that 'Martin Freeman as Bilbo' article a year ago," they said, still thinking.

"Wait! But we don't know anything about this Desolation? Of Smaug… thing," Owen said.

"What do you guys think about ignoring those beautiful crayon drawings and that fucking gun, and we just wait for an official announcement for the movie?" my brother said, already nervous.

We all agreed, and the next months were merely about our futures, about what and where we were going to study. By May we all read about the second movie of The Hobbit duology being called There and back again—something that made all of them feel better, almost confirming that my so-called immortality was just the product of a broken mind after taking drugs.

By September we had all moved to different cities, so I was wrong. Again.

Before I moved, I finished my studies at the music school, graduated high school, and thanks to my diploma I got accepted into the music university I wanted, three hours away from home. I moved to a humble, tiny flat all by myself. I even got better. I stopped dying all the time like I used to. Now I was just briefly fainting and snapping back to reality, like in a single second, still breathless and now with that weird melody always buzzing in my head—the one that appeared that night, always sounding distorted, and muffled.

With all of us in different cities now, the Christmas holidays turned out to be the only chance we would have to gather as friends and family. By Christmas of 2011, they all had forgotten about my condition and the theories we had, and we even decided to—finally—watch The Green Hornet one night.

We spent the next semester studying at our respective universities, keeping in contact by text messages and Skype calls while playing online during the weekends, which became less and less often because of their social lives.

By July of 2012, we read about The Hobbit turning into a fucking trilogy, but the name of the second part was still the same.

Then on the last day of August, we read about The Hobbit movie changing its name to... The Desolation of Smaug.

"I... just... don't... believe it," Owen said on our group's chat, sending individual texts and sharing the news.

"What? That they’re turning The Hobbit into a trilogy? Me neither! What a fucking joke," Barnes replied, and every following text by them was an already mentioned thought about how lame the first movie was and how the studios involved were trying to make a shitty, greenscreened bastard son of The Lord of the Rings.

"What a fucking joke," I texted.