Jerome, born March 9, 1994, aged 24 and 7 months, now aged 2 years and 7 months.
Preston, born May 4, 1994, aged 24 and 5 months, now aged 2 years and 5 months.
Lachlan, born August 25, 1995, aged 23, now aged 1.
(This is as of the 1st of September, 2018, so they were all aged back 22 years)
Rob's P.O.V.
I jolted awake when I heard a low wail from beside me, my brow furrowing in confusion. The room was dark, a sliver of light streaming in through the top of the curtain, barely just outlining the furniture around the room and allowing me to look around.
"What- what?" I pulled the covers down and looked around the room, frowning as I noticed that Preston wasn't in the room. His side of the bed was still warm so he obviously hadn't gotten up that long ago and his side of the duvet was completely muffled and strewn up.
I heard the wail again, louder this time, and I looked around the room because it was clearly right next to me. I crawled to the edge of the bed and peered over it, jolting back when I saw the blanket moving and whining in a tiny high-pitched voice.
I slid off the bed and pulled up the blanket, startling when I saw a young, brown-eyed boy staring up at me with wide eyes that were filled with unshed tears. As soon as he saw me looking down at me he reached up his arms for me to pick him up, wailing unhappily.
I pulled him up onto my lap, letting him burying his head into my shirt, still crying quietly. I observed him silently, running my hand through his hair and it was only then I realised who he resembled.
He looked exactly like Preston.
His bright brown eyes, his slightly upturned nose, his tanned skin and chubby cheeks and what I noticed the most was his thin, beautiful layer of tiny freckles. Most people never noticed them but I did and there was one mole on his cheek that I often poked, just to make him feel better. It was there.
"Preston?" His eyes came up to me, hands reaching for my face with a curious look on his own. From his look he looked about 2 years old, maybe a little bit more.
"Robby!" I swore underneath my breath and scooped him up into my arms, turning to rush downstairs. I couldn't deal with this on my own.
Just as I was making my way down the stairs Mitch and Jerome's door opened and a flustered Mitch with a wailing toddler clutched in his arms.
"Rob?- wait, you too?" I nodded, bouncing Preston in my arms to keep him calm for a little longer. I knew at once that it was Jerome in Mitch's arms, his mouth open in a loud wail and his arms flailing, struggling to get himself to the ground. He looked barely older than Preston, making me think that they had been aged back the same amount of time, considering they had been only a few months apart before the de-aging.
"How the hell did this happen?" He shrugged, adjusting Jerome.
"I have no idea. What about Vikk and Lachy? God knows if something's happened there too." I hadn't even though about the other two and at once turned around and headed back up the stairs, around the corner to their room.
Vikk and Lachlan slept the furthest away because they were often up at odd times with insomnia and nightmares and didn't want to keep the rest of us awake.
I pushed open the door with my elbow and hustled myself into the room, my eyes closing in disbelief as I saw Vikk covered in his duvet with a young boy curled in beside him. It was Lachlan.
He was younger than both Preston and Jerome, barely over a year old and with one thumb in his mouth, he looked a lot younger. Both he and Vikk were sound asleep, happily curled up together.
