#monthlywritingchallenges

Rain taps a violent rhythm against the window, thunder rumbles quietly on the other side of the city. Outside, the streets of Pittsburgh are emptier than normal, people fleeing for safety wherever they can. You glance out, biting your lip. Somewhere out there, is your man. If he doesn’t leave the hospital soon, he may have to take a canoe home rather than the subway. Your phone chimes, the sound fighting with the rain for your attention.

“Working late. All this rain has injuries flooding in.”

You laugh at his pun and text him back a thumbs up.

“Well, he’s working late, so what should be do?” You ask the dog curled up in his bed.

Otter lifts his head, looking at you with bright eyes, and barks just once.

You nod, “Yes, of course, that’s a great idea.”

He settles again as you reach for the remote. The TV lights up the living room before shifting to a more muted setting. The couch shifts beneath you, cushioning you as you curl up. You tug the blanket off the back, draping it over you, as Otter looks at you, a considering light in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it. You have a perfectly good bed all to yourself.”

He chuffs and turns so his back is to you. A moment later, you’re asleep, lulled by the now gentle rain and the soft sounds of the TV.

That’s how he finds you, hours later, when he finally makes it home. He pauses in the doorway, watching you breath for a moment, the pounding headache easing slightly. Otter looks up when he dislodges his backpack, but he goes right back to sleep. His rain-soaked jacket joins his backpack, and then his shoes.

Carefully, he lifts the blanket, slipping underneath. You stir as he wraps around you, tucking his face into your chest. You look down, bleary eyed and not quite awake. At the sight of Jack’s soft grey curls you smile. He nuzzles into you when you run your fingertips through his hair.

There’s a million ways to say I missed you, I love you, but one of Jack’s favorite’s is silence shared. It was a long day at the hospital, too many patients to think about. His stress had culminated in a headache he spent the last several hours fighting. But here with you all of it drifts away, leaving him feeling relaxed for the first time that day.

They were getting back from a school party of Laura's by taxi.

Laura, despite all the playing tough and unreachable as she did, was sleeping on James' lap, her hands over her lap, her head leaned sideways against his chest, lips slightly parted as she drooled a little over his shirt. The night lights shone through the windows like a gathering of little bright dots against James' eyes, and more weakly to the rest of the dim lit car as it moved almost completely silent through the streets.

James would have never imagined the turns his life would take.

Mary's disease, her death by his hand, Laura coming home with him, then she living with his dad and Maria for a while, before he could come back - on probation from prison and after that. 

He took a deep, shaky breath that wasn't... completely exhausted of life for once, just exhausted from the day, from the routine, his hands pressing Laura gently against himself just in case she could be sliding down his legs. He wasn't even really paying attention to his actions; it just...became natural for him to care for her, like a part of his routine you do so much it stops registering like something different from everything else that was normal for him.

"James..." Maria called him softly, touching the back of his hand with a cold hand of hers.

Slowly, James turned slightly to her as if signing that he was listening:

"Mmm?"

He didn't turn completely, all too relaxed and tired to move more. Plus, they were under a very dim light, so he wouldn't be able to see much if he looked back, especially considering how bad his sight could be in the dark.

Since James didn't hear anything from Maria again for a while, he turned to her more fully, looking at her sideways.

"What is it, Maria?" he asked hoarsely, more from weariness than anything else.

She stared at him for a moment and then said, eyes drifting to her lap like a leaf moving through the sky as her hands silently fidgeted there.

"I don't think this is working..." she said quietly as if to not be heard, scared or ashamed to say those words, for being the one to say it.

James' eyebrows rose, his breath hitching before he loosened up again and, after a bit of consideration, eyes drifting as he tilted his head to check if Laura had woken up with their talking, reflexively holding her closer, he nodded, slowly but surely.

"I know..." it was his answer. He knew, had always known it wouldn't work; deep down, he knew. He had wanted it to work, thought for a second it would work longer than it actually did, at least as a distraction, as a comforting thing for the both of them, but it didn't. And it wasn't like it had been working...in weeks now.

They barely touched each other these days. Barely gave each other pecks every once in a while to demonstrate support, to give some comfort to the other.

He could feel her staring at him so his eyes drifted back to her, trying to gauge her reaction, if she was sad, if he should hug her for not feeling what she used to want from him, want so hard it pulled at his heartstrings and made him want to love her back; but he couldn't, not the way she wanted, because she was and wasn't whom he used to love.

Her cheek twitched, he saw from the corner of his eye.

"I'm..." she started, then stopped before nodding, "I'm at peace with that now, James..."

Now he turned to her fully, as if not believing and yet, hoping for it.

James tried to smile at her, even if it was a sad one - just at least a little bit encouraging and she gave him a half smile back.

He held out his hand, before making sure Laura was secured with his other arm. 

After briefly looking at it, Maria held his hand. James enlaced their fingers together, gently squeezing her hand.

"Thank you for caring for her..." James murmured just so she was the only one hearing it, words laced with sincerity and gratitude.

She smiled:

"I could never let her alone without getting you straight about caring for her."

He let out a startled chuckle, small, quiet, a barely there breath. 

A few minutes later they got out of the car. 

However, when James was trying to fish for his keys in front of his door, as he held a sleepy and slightly moody Laura over his chest, he felt a chill. He looked back, apprehensively, because he knew in his gut what had happened, and…

There were never options at the TVA aside from cream and sugar when it came to caffienation that wasn’t Josta. Mobius had been a little overwhelmed by the options, and probably sounded like it was his first day on Earth when asking what they were. At least the green-haired woman working the register didn’t seem to mind. 

Mobius had chosen a latte and a tart that was apparently from the local bakery. He ordered it to stay, chose a seat in the corner by the window, and people watched.

The cafe wasn’t busy, the lull between lunch and the commute home making him one of only two customers that stuck around. It had been a while before anyone even came in for something to go. 

The music was soft, instrumental, tickling his brain as if to tell him he’d heard a different version of the song on the radio. The barista wasn’t currently at the counter, but instead somewhere in the back, possibly doing dishes or checking stock. He supposed it didn’t matter; the chime that sounds when the door opens is probably enough to bring her out when someone comes in.

Outside, there’s a light drizzle. Enough that there are a few scattered umbrellas, but it wasn't so wet that people were trying to stick close to buildings or were hurrying their journey. Traffic was light despite it being Main Street, most people still at work or having parked in a lot a little ways away and going on foot from there, as Mobius had. 

It was peaceful. Quiet. Alien in that Mobius had only ever experienced something similar in the archives or the library of the TVA, never the bullpen. And even then, those silences weren’t peaceful but almost oppressive. 

That was something Mobius vaguely reflected on now, the thought loose enough that he could be distracted from it, but not so fleeting that it didn’t hold his focus in the now. The idea that there was urgency at the TVA to go out, prune, get a case solved as soon as possible, and yet they were supposedly outside of time. They could go to any point in time, and yet everything had to be done now.

There was no rush in this new life he was living. Maybe that would get old after a bit, maybe Mobius could learn to adapt. Honor Loki with just a hint of the hedonism that had carried the god through his life on the timeline.

He could start with this tart. Far too sweet for Loki’s taste, but it was buttery and a little chewy with nuts and raisins. So, not out of the realm of possibility for the god to have been willing to try, but likely not to be a winner. Still, if he was out there somewhere, he’d probably appreciate Mobius opting for it over the not-so-neon key lime that was also on offer.

He was meant to be starting fresh, after all.

He focused back on the tart.

It wasn’t all that big, but with smaller bits and a slow chew, Mobius could stretch out the experience, maybe rewire his brain to think that this was a far better form of respite than any moment in the automat. Maybe he could even get to a point where the memories of the last few times he’d been there didn’t hurt so much.

He wonders, briefly, if they still only serve one kind of pie. He knows deep down he’ll never know.

A car drives through a shallow puddle, making just enough noise to pull Mobius from his melancholy musings. He looked out the window, setting the remains of the tart down and picking up his bowl-like mug to sip his latte. He scanned the street, watching people move in and out of the various buildings, traveling down the road.

Then he noticed a lone bird on the old-fashioned style lamp post outside the shop. The lamp post wasn’t unique; they dotted the whole street, a leftover from when electric lighting had just started out. The bird, however, was entirely out of place. 

A magpie. Magpies barely existed in the country, but they definitely weren’t native to the area Mobius had chosen to settle in, and would have had to have been transported in somehow from out west. 

It seemed to be staring at him, which was a little unsettling but also strangely comforting. 

He found himself raising his mug toward the bird with a slight grin and a nod. 

The magpie fluttered its wings, tilted its head, and continued to stare. 

Mobius glanced away, watching the world outside, eyes occasionally darting to the bird to still find it watching. Minutes turned to an hour, the latte cooled and almost drained, the tart only crumbs, and the bird was still there.

Mobius wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, and the cafe hadn’t gotten any busier. So he got up, ordered another drink - a mocha this time - and a newspaper to have something to look at that wasn’t the traffic and the magpie.

It was still there when he returned to his spot, attention momentarily diverted until Mobius returned. It continued to watch him for a little bit, and then it tilted its head like it was listening to something else. It glanced away, glanced back at Mobius, stared a moment, and then flew off.

His heart broke a little to see it leave. Maybe it was just fanciful thinking, but he thought that maybe…

He supposed it was probably for the best that the little guy took off. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda predictable?”

The question struck Jamil at the oddest times for the next several days. When he was recording notes in business meetings; when he washed his hands in the restroom; when he cooked the same stir fry dish he ate every Wednesday. He would hear it like a faint whisper in his ear, which only worked to spike his natural sense of paranoia.

It didn’t help that he became hyper aware of Kalim’s praises after meeting Yuu at the coffee shop. Kalim’s first reaction to Jamil placing the coffee–after adding an extra dash of vanilla creamer and topped with a swirl of whip cream with a light dusting of cocoa powder–on his desk was a happy sigh. “Thanks Jamil! I can always depend on you for a treat when I need it most!”

The happy praise rubbed against a raw nerve, and Jamil began actively tracking his daily activities. His week days followed a very strict schedule, which he insisted was simply the results of his life being organized, not predictable. He meal-prepped at the start of the week (because one less decision in his routine opened his time for other activities); he scheduled meetings at the same times every day (to make it easier for Kalim to remember); he called his parents every Thursday at exactly six P.M. (because it was convenient to their schedule, of course).

It was perfectly normal for a man his age to be organized. In fact, it was a highly coveted trait in the eyes of potential partners. Jamil was sure of it despite the last time he dated being…did he meet the girl who thought anything that was purple tasted like soap in high school or university?

A voice that sounded dangerously similar to Najma’s compared him to a soggy cardboard box.

To prove he wasn’t predictable, Jamil decided to go on his evening run thirty minutes before his usual scheduled run. And he texted Najma to prove he wasn’t a soggy cardboard box. Her emoji response was like deciphering modern hieroglyphs, so he interpreted the message as the loving encouragement an actual sister would give.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t predicted his usual running path would have more foot traffic half an hour earlier than his usual schedule. The setting sun was still partially visible through the trees of the park, which meant there were more small families cluttering the footpaths. He ducked around a mother with a small child having a screaming fit and a couple taking up half the path to take a selfie together. The nerve above his eye began to tick when he dodged a frisbee that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Why had he decided to change his schedule again?

He turned the corner and nearly tripped over a leash spanning the width of the footpath. He answered the disgruntled hiss aimed at him with an admittedly biting hiss. A familiar voice chided, “Grim, be nice.”

Jamil jerked upright. The gray cat he had hissed at gave an unhappy grumble before slinking back to circle Yuu’s ankles. She appeared shocked for a moment, her bored frown becoming a slight grimace. Her wide eyes darted up and down his person. “Oh! Jamil. Hi. You look good in a bun.”

Jamil did his own doubletake, not sure if he had heard her correctly over the sudden pounding in his ears. “What?”

“Nothing!” Yuu did a little twirl to untangle her legs from Grim’s leash. Grim stared up at her with the universal haughty stare all cats had for their human slaves before finding a patch of grass more interesting. She tried tucking the short strands of her hair behind her ear, but they immediately fell back into her face. “So, uh, did you enjoy your coffee the other day?”

Jamil frowned. He placed his hands on his hips and tried to catch his breath after the sudden stop in his run. “Huh? Coffee?”

“Yeah.” Yuu tried to sweep her hair from her face again. The motion failed. “The one you bought?”

Some part of Jamil’s mind must have blocked out the episode–and stubbornly clung to the “Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda predictable?” part–because it took him an embarrassingly long moment to catch up. “That coffee wasn’t for me.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence fell between them. A nearby dog barked, sparking a warning hiss from Grim. Yuu’s eyes darted everywhere but Jamil. “So…nice weather, we’re having, right?”

Jamil rubbed the back of his neck. Her comment about buns made more sense when he remembered he had secured his hair in one before going on his run. That made a lot more sense than automatically thinking she was talking about curry buns. (Since when had his thoughts become so obsessed with those stupid curry buns?) “Yes…”

“Was the coffee for your girlfriend?”

Now it was Jamil’s turn to sputter. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Great! I mean…oh.” Yuu reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. She smoothed it open, and Jamil could see faint, hastily written scribbles through the paper. Her voice dropped to a mumble Jamil could barely hear over the distant barking of dogs and screaming children. “Crap...she said not to bring up exes. What were the safe topics again?”

Yuu’s mutters trailed off. Another awkward silence compelled Jamil to add. “It was for my…boss. He’s as picky as yours.”

The confession managed to disperse the awkward tension between them. Yuu blinked before she smiled. She tucked the paper away while simultaneously tugging Grim away from a rock he attempted to eat. “Vil loved his coffee so much, he poured it on his temporary seamstress who felt him up with the excuse of getting his measurements before insulting my skirt again.”

Who was this Vil person she worked for? Did he even want to know? The guy sounded like a diva. Jamil made a mental note to do more research when he returned home. “At least he found a use for it then. It’s always a shame when good coffee goes to waste.”

Yuu hummed in agreement. “So do you come here often, or are we mutually stalking each other again?”

Jamil snorted out a laugh. He crossed the footpath to stand next to her when he noticed another runner coming up on them. The tall, broad shouldered man nodded his thanks, but Jamil thought his eyes lingered too long on Yuu before he passed. Jamil studied his short silver hair long enough to determine he couldn’t pull it back in a bun.

(Because Yuu apparently had an interest in buns–noted that disconnected portion of Jamil’s lizard brain.)

“I normally take a run through this park in the evening since it’s so close to my apartment,” Jamil finally answered. “It’s usually later than this, but I thought I would get out a little earlier today.”

Yuu hummed again. “That would explain how we never ran into each other before now. I like to bring Grim out for evening walks too while my friend does his run. He doesn’t think it’s safe for a young woman my age to be out so late alone.” From the way her nose wrinkled and she pitched her voice lower, Jamil assumed those were her friend’s words, not hers. “Nevermind that my uncle insisted I learn some type of self-defense back in middle school, or that I know how to disable a man in point-five seconds.”

Jamil theatrically raised his eyebrows. “And what is your secret to that?”

“Kick them in the balls.” A startled laugh escaped Jamil. Yuu widely grinned. “I’ve had to do it three times now. Four if you count the accidental practice shot. It works perfectly. You should ask Trey the next time you stop by the bakery.”

Despite his amusement, Jamil gave a sympathetic wince for the unassuming baker. He had a feeling he knew who the accidental practice shot had been. “I think I’ll stick to safer topics. Speaking of, is it safe to assume you live nearby too?”

“Yeah.” Yuu turned to point in the direction Jamil had been running, which would eventually lead to another entrance into the park. “I share an apartment with my friend across from the park. It’s why he insists on taking his runs at the same time I walk Grim.”

That explained why they had run into each other at the supermarket too, since it was only two blocks from the park. Funny, now that Jamil thought about it, he had gone shopping earlier than usual that evening too. How many times had they potentially missed each other by half an hour?

…did she just imply she was living with another guy?

A deep grunt startled Jamil out of his revelation. The tall guy who had run past them earlier now stood at Yuu’s elbow. Jamil was pretty confident in his own athleticism and physique, but even he wasn’t much of a match to the thick muscles on the guy's biceps. Granted, he could take a guy down with a bit of quick thinking and maneuvering, but he wouldn’t stay standing if the guy decided to suddenly clock him in the jaw.

The guy scowled down at Jamil, a sharp glint in his golden eyes. “Is this guy messing with you, Yuu?”

Yuu lightly punched the guy in the stomach like it was a normal reaction to have with someone twice as big as you scowling down at you. “Calm down, Jack. You know you don’t have to play the big brother card for every guy who talks to me, right?”

Jack grunted again. His glare didn’t waver from Jamil. He crossed his arms as if to emphasize the size of his muscles. Jamil easily pictured a big wolf baring his canines at him. Guys with that kind of energy had never impressed Jamil, but he wasn’t fool enough not to feel wary. “Better safe than sorry.”

Yuu exhaled a long sigh. Turning her back to Jack, she picked up Grim, who yowled at being separated from the rocks he licked. She dumped the feline into Jack’s arms like she didn’t realize he was too busy intimidating Jamil. Grim latched onto Jack’s arm with a furious growl, making Jack drop his threatening glare to curse under his breath. Jamil expected him to bludgeon Grim into the nearest tree trunk, but he instead tried to carefully extract each of Grim’s claws from his skin without hurting the cat.

Unfazed by both their behavior, Yuu turned her attention back to Jamil. She smiled, her brown eyes dancing in amusement likely for the chaos she had made. “Would you like to meet up in the morning instead of mutually stalking each other again?”

The invitation startled Jamil for a moment, but he nodded as if the question hadn’t sent his heart pounding in a quicker rhythm than his run. “Sure. How about at the bakery? It’s on my way to the office.”

Yuu enthusiastically agreed before grabbing Jack’s elbow to drag him away. With Grim’s angry yowls muffled by Jack’s buffy biceps, Jamil was able to hear her say, “Her advice worked!” with equal enthusiasm before they were out of hearing range. Jamil didn’t realize he was grinning until his cheeks started to hurt. He turned on his heel to return to his apartment too, congratulating himself for his unpredictability.

Then he kicked himself after realizing he hadn’t asked Yuu for her number.

“Isn’t that the competition song?” Jack looked up from his homework, a complicated expression on his face. 

“Suppose it is. Sorry Deuce.” He shrugged, setting down his pencil quietly. 

In the background the lyrics continued to play, a distant, “Hey so beautiful~” echoing around. 

“Epel’s the one you should be more worried about. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much.” Jack set his pencil down too, turning to face him with a frown. 

“Don’t put your feelings down like that.” His ears were pressed flat against his hair. “Vil screwed up back then and you’re allowed to be held up about it.”

Am I? He wanted to ask. Am I really? 

“Thanks.” He tells Jack. “But I’m fine. I was just surprised to hear the song. It’s been a while.” 

Vil had all but beat that song into their heads. It wasn’t even that long ago but he still had nightmares about it. 

Not that that was any different from anything else the other housewardens did. 

That stupid song just-

The song paused for a moment, startling deuce, then it switched over to another song. 

Jack skipped it. 

“Oh.” Deuce didn’t know what to say. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

Jack shook his head, something pinched on his face. Right. Vil and Jack were friends once weren’t they?

“It’s not my favorite song or anything.” Jack shrugged again, shoulders going up to his chin with how forceful it looked. “You good though?”

Deuce pushed his lips up as an uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest. 

“I… I’m good.” he continued. “Thanks though.”