"In my time, he—Bowie—is just starting to blow up, like one of the music revolutionaries, and here, in your time, he’s already… gone… Leaving behind an incredible legacy in history. How much did he even write? On this box of yours…" William picked up the phone like it was a grenade and squinted. "Twenty-seven albums… In my time, only three."

"William, I’m sorry, but it’s kinda hard for us to take what you’re saying seriously just yet, because, well… you get it, right?" Max spoke while smiling awkwardly, trying to find the right words. "Do you even believe you’ve jumped into the twenty-first century? Into a whole new millennium?"

"While I was sitting here, abandoned by you two," William began dramatically, "I wasn’t just listening to a genius—I was looking around the room. The photos in the frames are way too high-quality, there are more boxes and screens, devices I’ve never even laid eyes on. The only thing I recognized was the surfboard." He pointed to the corner. "That’s one thing that probably won’t ever disappear from an Aussie’s life. Tell me—am I still in Australia?"

"That’s my board. I love to swim and surf. And yeah, you’re still in Australia," Lucas sat to William’s left, and Max took the spot on the right. "Max and I talked it over, and we decided not to freak you—or ourselves—out. Let’s tackle the first problem, yeah?" Lucas made a face. "Tomorrow we’ll buy you some underwear at least? You’re drowning in Max’s clothes like a paper boat in a storm."

"Oh yeah, I definitely need underwear," William stuck his tongue out and adjusted his shorts. "It’s kinda… Even I think this is too much freedom, and I know the hippie movement—personally!" He laughed while Lucas and Max smiled politely. "Would you let me stay here? Who knows, maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow back in my own bed…"

"We thought about that too," Max put a hand on William’s shoulder. "Nobody knows who we’ll wake up as tomorrow, right? Maybe you’re not the crazy one—maybe it’s us. So yeah, let’s get you settled in here. Tomorrow we’ll hit up the mall, grab some food and clothes that actually fit and are on sale. Lucas and I don’t have much money…"

"We don’t have any money, Max," Lucas rolled his eyes. "And sorry, William, but I don’t hand out my underwear to random guys."

"Yet somehow you’re fine checking out someone else’s…" Max muttered.

"You tryna die or something?" Lucas narrowed his eyes and leaned over William toward Max. "Did you take the trash out? Get groceries? At least tell me you threw out the trash—I’ve been asking for three days! I swear, if it’s still there—!" He jumped up and ran to the kitchen.

"Good thing I took out the trash before we found you, William," Max grinned way too wide. "He’d rip my head off. Okay! Tomorrow I’ll actually get everything done—so I can stay alive!"

"And I’ll help you!" William chimed in cheerfully.

"And I’ll gladly accept the help!"

They both laughed and got off the couch. In the kitchen, Lucas was grumbling while washing dishes. Max helped William get ready for bed. The room they gave him had been used as a storage space, so it was full of old toys, a busted computer, boards, and a ton of photos. There was also a broken couch, which would be William’s bed for the night. The sleep shorts and t-shirt from Lucas fit him a bit better—at least he wasn’t falling through the neck hole. They even gave him a sleep mask since the windows faced east. And now, aside from that weird teased hairstyle, there was nothing about William that screamed “time traveler.” He honestly looked more like a teenage girl at her first sleepover with friends. Max had changed too—into a black tank and gray pants, not-so-subtly showing off his perfect body. Lucas, meanwhile, showed up in elephant-print shorts and an oversized henley.

"Trying to show off your muscles to William now? Playing Superman?" Lucas rolled his eyes as their guest snuggled under the blanket with the most satisfied look on Earth.

"Of course not. What makes me Superman is something else entirely," Max said with a mysterious smile. "Good night, William. If you need anything… my room’s upstairs, last door on the left. My grandpa’s room is on the right—don’t bug him. Lucas lives downstairs."

"Good night…" Lucas tossed over his shoulder as they headed out the door.

"Um…" William started softly. "Can I… can I have that phone and the headphones? Please… I want to listen to some more music."

"Of course, go ahead," Max set everything up and handed over the phone. "Just… don’t throw my phone again… And the headphones might die soon—try not to fall asleep in them or your ears’ll hurt in the morning."

"Oh, mother hen, let’s go to bed already!" Lucas yanked Max out of the room by the arm and shut the door.

William smiled. He still didn’t fully understand what was happening or what he should do next. It all felt like a dream. But there he was, lying in some random place, listening to Bowie—whose poster he’d been squealing over just two days ago after buying a concert ticket—and now he was burning holes in the ceiling with his eyes, looping the same song over and over. What really filled him with anxiety wasn’t for himself, but for Noah and his grandpa. How were they doing? He’d just vanished without a trace. They were definitely worried. William also realized there was nothing he could do about it right now.

With those thoughts swirling, he stayed awake until morning—until the headphones died. With nothing else to do, he pulled the sleep mask over his face and hoped that tomorrow, he’d wake up in his own old bed, with the scratchy sound of a ‘71 radio in his ears.