Faded

The door slowly creaked open and Tintin walked out from his room. He shut the door behind him and let out a long sigh. Slowly and weakly – like he always is – he walked towards the stairs of Marlinspike, heading to the living room.

His eyes couldn't help but gaze on the rooms as he passed by. When everyone else chose to leave, he chose to stay. After everything he went through, he ended up alone, on his own.

He descended the stairs and stepped into the living room, and memories started to flood him again. He frowned – everything and everyone who used to be there weren't with him anymore. Right now, he couldn't even remember why he made his choice in the first place.

Tintin sat down on the green armchair in front of the fireplace. The chair was enwrapped by dusty plastic, but at that time, he didn't really care at all.

For one moment he just stayed there, taking in the sight of his surroundings. The old fireplace with spider webs tangled around it, the television set that barely worked anymore, and the red dusty carpet lying on the floor.

He leaned back and placed his hand on the armrest. A small, almost-invisible smile crept up to his lips. He just couldn't forget.

This is where Captain Haddock used to sit.

Everything else came rushing to his mind – the whiskey he used to drink, his curses that were no match for others, and all the bits of adventures he helped him to go through. A best friend that Tintin could never ever forget.

He looked down to the carpet, then to the fireplace. It felt as if it was just yesterday that his white fox terrier was on that carpet, cuddled up in front of the warm glow of fire. Snowy, his true, loyal dog. His best companion and friend. His bark echoed in his mind, and he could almost see him running cheerfully across the room.

Almost.

If only they had all the time in the world, if only life lasts forever, Tintin wouldn't be the person he was right now.

Captain Haddock, years ago before this day, grew old along with his own spirit of travel and adventure. He would most likely stay home whenever Tintin goes out. He couldn't be much of a company to Tintin as he used to – his body was weaker by the year, and Tintin had to stay in most of the time to take care of him.

He was tired and exhausted, but not much realizing that Tintin, the "young famous reporter", was not so young anymore.

Time went by and Haddock knew he wasn't going to live forever. Many times he tried to evoke the old sailor in him and sail in the big blue once again. After many attempts, he gathered it up and headed for the seas for one last adventure – sailing around the world.

"Weren't you an adventurer, landlubber?" he asked Tintin that day, with the hoarse voice he had left.

He tried to persuade Tintin to come with him. But Tintin rejected – he was getting old and he was tired. He was done with his reporter business, he was done with fighting crime, and he was done with chasing bad guys…

He had enough.

Haddock kept insisting and tried to bring back the adventurer in Tintin, like what he did to himself.

"I miss the seas, lad," he said that day. "How can you not miss what you did all those years?"

Tintin didn't know the answer. He was old. That was it. He said no, and he didn't change his mind. Eventually, Haddock left the estate and went off to spend the time he had left with the seas – without Tintin.

But that was many years ago. And right now, Tintin almost regretted his decision. As years passed he still hadn't received any news from him. No phone calls, no telegram, nothing. And many days, almost every day, he wondered if the Captain was even still alive.

And Snowy… time wasn't at his side. He grew old along with Tintin. He couldn't run, he couldn't bark as cheery as he used to, and he couldn't help Tintin with what he did anymore. And when the time came, Snowy passed away.

It took Tintin almost a whole year to cope with his death. "It's just a dog," you'd say. But to Tintin, Snowy was so much more than just a dog.

Right now, he'd do anything to see them. 'It was almost out of character,' he thought. It had always been Tintin who dragged the Captain out for adventures. But at one point, it was the other way around.

'And stupidly,' he thought again, 'I said no.'

And this is where he ended up – all alone, with no knowledge of the whereabouts of his friends, living in the only place that kept on reminding him of everyone he left. He knew the truth – they didn't leave him. He left them. When he could've done so much in his life, he wasted his time. The adventures, the thrill, the amazing stories…

…They didn't have to stop.

Tintin got up from his seat and exhaled. He often got one of those days, those days when he kept reminding himself of all the people he left. But a day when the idea that this wasn't supposed to happen suddenly smacked him, it was his first.

He made the wrong decision, and what a wrong decision it was. This wasn't the future he was supposed to have. This wasn't the way an aged Tintin should spend his days.

A thought suddenly hit him, and with confidence in every step, he ascended the stairs and returned to his room. He opened the door to his wardrobe and reached to the deepest corner. He withdrew his hand and smiled at the object he grabbed.

It was his old, beige trenchcoat.

He could almost feel adrenaline rushing through him, like it used to. Flashes of memories came back to him – racing against the clock, running from danger, chasing criminals – he inhaled, almost gasping, as his eyes slightly lit up.

Now he truly remembered.

Tintin strolled over to the mirror and stared at his own reflection. A small, sad smile crawled up to his lips.

"It's been a long time, Tintin," he whispered to himself. "Long time."

It had been years. Tens of years. His face was wrinkled, and so was most of his skin. His hair was no longer bright orange, most of it had turned white. His quiff barely stood up, and he could just remember how less people recognized him as the famous reporter, compared to the day when he was young.

He couldn't blame it to himself. Even with the highest spirit of adventures burning inside of him, he couldn't. He grew older. Weaker. Unable to do things he usually did in the past… at least that's how he'd seen it.

That's why he stayed, he thought. He was no longer the Tintin that everyone used to know. It wasn't his time anymore.

Tintin kept gazing at the mirror. Slowly, he put on his beige trenchcoat. He stood straight and pulled down the lower edge of his coat. And he could see it in the mirror, that young adventurous boy, ready to face anything. He blinked, and could've sworn he saw them – Snowy, the Captain, even the Professor – his smile widened and he was almost grinning.

But it was only a momentary bliss.

His smile quickly faded and the real mirror reflection came back to his sight. His gaze lowered from his face to his old trenchcoat. It was old, its color was faded, and it was almost worn-out.

He reached to the hem of his coat and was about to slid it off, ending his temporary world of fantasy, until another thought hit him.

Didn't the Captain go despite of his old age?

Tintni glared at the mirror, as if trying to pierce through it. His adventurous spirit hadn't died, as the fact was he missed it so much right now. And it was a blessing that he could still stand on his own feet and in no urgent need to wear spectacles at his age.

Guess he wasn't that old after all.

He could still be out there right now, couldn't he? He knew he could. What did he do to himself?

What was he afraid of?

It didn't have to be a mere fantasy. It could still be real right now. He didn't have to give up, he still had the chance.

A genuine smile spread on his lips as he slid his coat back into position. Walking out the door and stepping down the stairs, he was about to do one thing he hadn't done for a long time – setting his foot outside of Marlinspike.