Against the Clock
Another day, another date.
A cold gust of wind blew, tousling brown locks of short hair, bright colors slowly fading. Neon yellow, hot red, electric blue, toxic green—he really tires of all this blinding hazard sometimes but then again, not a day passes without going through this phase. He opened his eyes, taking his environment in. Every day would be a new place, every day would be a new date—not just tomorrow but yesterday, the other day, the next week, the other month and sometimes next year.
He roamed his eyes, not to check out the place but in search of her—because apparently, it's her who was always with him, it's her who always await him and it was always her who was his reason to stay sane and travel time every moment of his entire life.
Yes.
He is a time traveler.
Or so he thought.
He had been traveling for quite some time now—the exact number of days uncertain, as who could still keep track of such insignificant matter when your calendar’s in shuffle?
He met her. He met her again that day. He doesn’t know much, he doesn’t even know himself, only living with enough survival skills—but he was certainly uncertain of one thing. He doesn’t know why but every time he’d look at her, his stomach would sink in a pleasurable way, his mind would go haywire and everything would just seem to turn brighter.
She just seems so familiar.
It was confusing. It was so confusing but he was happy, because it also tells one thing...
He was still human.
This unknown feeling of him made him comfortable, as though he could live another day just seeing her. He was getting fond of it, excited every time he'd wake up in a different landscape, thrilled to see her again. Try as he might, he just really couldn’t help but see everything differently. Everything was just so nice and colorful—the complete contrast to the monotone world he’d been accustomed to in his journey, aside from the portal that seems to ooze with rainbow every time it’s time.
But fate is cruel. One day, in a blink of an eye, everything seemed faded, everything seemed like a blur, everything crumbled and eventually, everything blacked out.
It stayed like that for minutes, hours, days, weeks, he didn’t know! All he knew was that he was still alive…
And that there was no sign of her.
He looked—he looked and looked and looked and looked but he couldn’t see anything.
“There’s not much time,” I’m losing hope.
His breaths became ragged, erratic, filled with panic. He was suffocating, drowning, air emptying out of him. He was scared, NO, TERRIFIED.
Will this really be the end?
Consciousness fading in and out, his body losing from fatigue, he finally surrendered—surrendered to the quick pull of slumber.
“I love you.”
He awakened by the sharp blade of light peering through his heavy lids. He opened them, feeling the crisp dried goo that entangles his eyelashes together tore. All he saw was a blur—a smoky haze of white and blue with bits of blobs of brown and black.
Trying to breathe more air, the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol and syringe intoxicated him. He tried to move around, but his body was sore. A sob entered his ear drums and surprised his being. A series followed and the voice broke into a cry. Immobile as he was, he darted his eyes to its source.
“Welcome back, love…” she said.
