SO VERY !

                                        he  sighs,  resigned;   ❝  never  thought  i’d  say  this,  but  i  probably  should  have  listened  to  the  old  man.  time  travel  is  a  real  shot  in  the  dark,  it  turns  out.  ❞   maybe  it  was  some  kind  of  mercy,  that  dad  wasn’t  alive  to  give  him  the  i  told  you  so  in  person.  veronica  very  well  could,  if  she  was  so  inclined.  five  hesitates  a  beat;  ❝  should’ve  listened  to  you,  too.  ❞  

he  allows  her  teasing,  now,  with  a  subtle  roll  of  his  eyes.  ❝  … fair  point,  ❞   he  says.  her  wit  is  refreshing  —  it  was  better  than  pity,  anyway,  or  questions  he  didn’t  have  the  time  or emotional  bandwidth  to  answer.  veronica  was  veronica,  as  far  as  he  could  tell.  he’d  looked  in  on  them  all  in  passing,  during  his  time  in  the  commission.  he  had  read  viktor’s  book.  but  he  still  knows  next  to  nothing  about  them  now  —  all  of  it  had  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  glass.   (  don’t  get  too  attached,  if  it  all  goes  wrong.  if  you  fail.  if  you  have  to  turn  back  the  clock  again.  )

❝  you  haven’t  changed,  ❞   he  notes,  after  a  moment.   ❝  that’s  a  compliment,  by  the  way.  ❞   the  same  of  which  could  not  be  said  for  some  of  their  other  siblings.

there’s  still  no  easy  way  to  say  it.  all  this,  and  he  still  doesn’t  know  when  to  shoehorn  in  the  timetravelling  assassins  part  of  the  debacle.

❝  … the  world  ends  in  ten  days,  unless  i  can  figure  out  how  to  stop  it.  ❞   five  shifts  a  hand  into  his  jacket  pocket,  retrieves  something  gleaming  and  white  — funny  he  had  never  lost  it,  after  all  these  years.   ❝  … problem  is,  i  have  no  idea  what  causes  it.  the  only  clue  i  have,  is  this,  ❞   he  holds  the  glass  eye  out  for  her  to  take.   ❝  i  found  it,  ❞   five  drops  his  gaze  now,   ❝  in  what  was  left  of  the  academy.  ❞   he  refrains  from  further  elaboration;  from  saying  what  else  he  had  found  there. 

“ yeah, you should’ve- dad, not so much, he’s hit or miss. but me? always. ”  it’s teasing, it’s light, it’s more self-deprecatingly sarcastic more than anything. god knows i couldn’t blame him for thinking he could do the impossible- if anyone could, he would. and he did, too! twice- although i’m not counting how many times he’d failed. 

“ you have. changed, i mean- and listened to me, before, but. you’ve got older eyes. ”  i’ve got to be honest about it, really. and change isn’t a BAD thing  ( it is in my case, he just hasn’t seen it yet ) ,  it’s just something that happens, whether we like it or not. i’d have much rather us change in simpler ways, but you take the hand that’s dealt. 

                                 would’ve rather changed together, i think-                                  so it would be so small, so minute,                                   that we wouldn’t notice until looking back.                                   LIKE A FROG IN BOILING WATER .  

but the next thing out of his mouth is enough to put a stop to my ridiculous nostalgic desperations. 

THE WORLD ENDS IN TEN DAYS .  my hands are shockingly still when i take the eye from him. i would expect to be shaking like a fucking leaf- the world ends in ten days. i roll the little trinket in my palm, inspecting the underside, the iris, the paint, the surface. nothing’s sticking in mind. the world ends in ten days.     well, shit.    i have a stack of midterm papers to mark and return, but if they aren’t going to see the end of the year, what’s the point? is that cavalier of me to think? denial is the first stage of grief, though, so i think i’m still in the clear. 

“ well. ”  i try to center myself- he’s telling me because he needs help. he’s giving me the information he has; why else would he bring this to me? why else would he not bring it up before? despite the strange panic-driven fog that’s starting to cloud my thought process, i know i’ve got to get my shit together.  “ first question i’ve got, stupid one maybe, is how the hell to figure out who made the eye? like, they’re medical devices, technically, wouldn’t that mean they’d be marked somehow? for tracing purposes? ” 

at some point along the way,   loneliness had become a part of you,  grown onto your side like an additional limb.     you didn’t mind it—     it’s not like the students of ᴴᴬᵂᴷᴵᴺˢ ᴴᴵᴳᴴ ever had anything worth listening to,     and so you were more of a 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎 by geography as opposed to by nature.    

but the cafeteria had always been like being a lone fish in a sea of pirañas,    just waiting for you to 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜—     thankfully, you had years of practice,   tucked away in the corner with a copy of ‘the unbearable lightness of being’,   in the original french translation that you were determined to beat by the weeks end.       “   uh— -      ”       words sputter,     drawn away from the words printed on paper,    suddenly acutely aware of being seen,    watched.    own eyes scan around the room towards empty chairs,      close to questioning if it was ᴬ ᴶᴼᴷᴱ or not.

“    no,  it’s fine, —     i wouldn’t tell you to fuck off anyway,    i don’t think 𝚒 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 considering    i don’t even pay taxes so i couldn’t even justify that i partly own the table and thus get to ᴰᴱᶜᴵᴰᴱ   who sits there and—            YEAH,    go ahead.     ”

I AM AWARE OF THE KIND OF PRESENCE I AM.  five foot nothing and i still walk around like i own the place, mostly because of irreparable changes made to my metaphorical backbone. it’s not real confidence, not anymore at least, but i have become entirely incapable of not faking it ‘till i make it- wherever IT is, nowadays. this is all to say i feel really fucking bad when they look so freaked at my interruption. 

                                         well, i’m trying my best.                                           cross my fingers it’s good enough! 

“ you don’t have to own something to have control over it- could’ve said it was a mini democracy and you voted no, i wouldn’t mind. ”  but i sit all the same, not directly next to them to not crowd their vibes too much more  ( THEY’RE READING IN FUCKING FRENCH? ) .  i need to learn to be less intimidating, a little softer around the edges, less the predator of the cafeteria that i’d been comfortable being for the past three years. it’s a hard habit to break, sure, but it’s worthwhile- i don’t want to do that shit again, i don’t want to be that person anymore.