RP Something to Remember


Oh. She’s nervous too. It’s a surprisingly easy realization, sliding into their mind soft as a sigh, and somehow it makes Lark relax a little more. They card their fingers through their hair again, then release it in favor of resting their hands in their lap.

Their gaze is drawn to the map of scars drawn along their fingers and palms, collected over years spent learning to use their weapon of choice. They don’t have as much feeling in their hands as they used to, and the tremors seem to get worse the longer their loops drag on. It doesn’t matter, though. They put it out of their mind.

“It was my mistake more than yours,” they note, as gently as they can. The statement has the benefit of being true, though perhaps not the whole truth. If anything is truly to blame, it would be temporal inevitability. This was always going to happen, one way or another.

But that’s not something they particularly want to think about, so they take the distraction of holding still while the razor buzzes somewhere over their ear. They’ve almost perfected their statue-stillness, by this point. It’s easier to blend in among normal people if they don’t skip around every few seconds, and the best way to do that without cutting out the skips is just to stay still. It helps.

They can’t help but look for Lily in the corner of their eye while she works, though they’re careful not to move their head. They can’t see much, mostly flashes of her elbow and falling silver hair, but after a few minutes they watch as her hand drifts into view and they nearly forget to breathe as her fingertips ghost over their shoulder.

It’s the weirdest feeling - just skirting the edge of itchy, but at the same time somehow electric. Maybe burning would be a better description. They certainly feel warm, and the budding bruise on their shoulder from their earlier skirmish is stark against their suddenly red skin.

They turn their face forward when they realize she’s lifted the razor, cursing their pale complexion for giving them away. They don’t even know what there is to give away, but they’re blowing it like too many birthday candles. They pause time to collect themself, then give in to the urge to bury their face in their hands, hiding the flush that’s overtaken them.

The great thing about paused time is that there’s no one to judge them for forcing a cork onto their feelings and tossing them in a box for later consideration. Well, there are other Larks out there somewhere, but they aren’t going to judge themself for this one. They’ll untangle the knot of emotions at some point, probably. If they get to it, before-

No. They bottle those feelings up too, and bury them deep. They’re left with just enough time to sit back up, recross their legs, and take another deep breath before they have to let their stranglehold on the river loosen.

“That one isn’t that exciting, actually. My younger self got into the shurikens,” They say when the present fades back in. They shudder in exaggerated horror, and turn slightly to grace Lily with a showman’s grin. Their hand is placed just so over their forearm, covering the fresh bandage from the current day’s adventures. No need to remind her of the similarities. “Most of my scars are from having too many Larks in the same place, actually. It gets surprisingly hard to keep track of everything. Too many cooks in the kitchen, all trying to stop time for their own reasons. Sometimes a shuriken or two slip through the cracks.”

Was that too much? They let their voice trail off, their eyes flicking to the side as though looking for a stagehand to prompt them with the next line in the script. They carefully don’t mention the other dominating reason for their scars, being just a little too slow dragging their younger self out of trouble. It isn’t something they’re proud of, but it was necessary. They ran on exasperated concern and spite, when they were sixteen.

Maybe they still do.

 
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Lily took the gentle admonishment in stride, recognizing it for what it was. A feeling she refused to name slipped through her, internalizing the fact that someone was trying to keep her from blaming herself. God that hadn’t happened in, well she knew exactly how long. Since she’d been told that she was just doing what had to be done, that the blood of her mentor would wash off her hands, that she had done them one last service.

That had been the worst part, talking down to her like she was a child who couldn’t understand what she’d done. She understood perfectly; she’d been used. Used to wrap up a loose end that the Lotus couldn’t afford to let fray their tapestry before patting her on the head and kicking her away. But Lark was different, they were gentle with her, taking some of the blame onto themself when they could easily just lay it all at Lily’s feet.

Perhaps Lily noticed the flush on Lark’s cheeks, a ripple in the pale pond that would have given her some hint as to what was going on in the depths of Lark. Perhaps she didn’t, too busy blinking away temporary tears that she had brought on herself, tears that she couldn’t let them see, no matter what. God what a fucking loser she was, getting teary because someone said that it wasn’t all her fault. Lily didn’t have the ability to stop time, but she wished she did in that moment, the ability to step away, compose herself, maybe let out a scream or two, then return to the starting point and resume as though nothing had ever happened.

She didn’t notice Lark skip like a scratched record, the jump in their position that was often the only indication that they had stretched time, filling the spaces between seconds as easily as someone filling their lungs in the spaces between song. She chuckled a little at their comment, laugh half-full.

“I can imagine how chaotic it is when you don’t have non-Larks to help.” Lily’s mind flashed back to one incident in particular. She didn’t know how many of them there’d been running around, only that they had seemed so tired that day, probably the most tired she’d ever seen them. “Do you remember the day when you were basically chaos incarnate?”

Lily resumed clipping their hair, trying to turn the conversation positive, perhaps selfishly directing towards lighter memories. The sheer anxiety of nearly missing catching an eight year old Lark was still one of the bars she judged her own reaction time by. “I still have the stickers you gave me. Guess that’s one thing that didn’t change in all those years.” She vaguely gestured towards the apartment as a whole, where she could see several stickers had appeared. Undoubtedly she’d be finding them for months after this d- after today.

With one last flourish of the clippers, Lily switched them off and set them to the side. She hesitated briefly before running her fingers along the now-prickly side of Lark’s head, ensuring she hadn’t missed any strands. Grabbing a hand mirror that she didn’t know she’d had in the first place, Lily offered it to her first, and hopefully only, barbershop customer.

“What do you think?”
​
 

They release a quiet breath, glad not to be caught even if Lily’s laugh doesn’t seem entirely genuine. She’s probably trying to be polite, they think. They accept the subject change with muted relief, though their eyebrow rises at the incredible vagueness of her pivot.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” they deadpan. It probably says something about Lark that being called chaos incarnate doesn’t narrow anything down, but hell if they know what that something is.

The mention of stickers pulls on a memory. It’s an old memory, still crisp only because of their unique recollection skills, and they study it for a moment. They remember… being on top of a statue, and held in Lily’s arms - no, not in her arms, perched on her knee somehow, how did she manage that? - and digging through their pockets for stickers their future self had given them.

The memory presents a view of the stickers they had chosen, then, and they sigh, touching their fingertips to the space between their eyes in the gentler cousin to a facepalm. “I can’t believe this.”

The razor switches off, replaced by the touch of Lily’s hand against their scalp, but they keep their gaze on the distant, nonexistent horizon, mired too deeply in existential horror to do more than glance at the mirror she offers them. That glimpse is enough for their stomach to sink, but they reach out to lay their hand over the mirror and press it back to the table, turning to Lily with utter seriousness.

“Lily.” Their lips twitch, but they fight off the smile with some effort. “Please tell me that eight year old me didn’t actually give you a sword lesbian sticker.”

They aren’t sure whether to be embarrassed or proud, honestly. God, they didn’t even think about what was in their collection when they gave it to their kid self. Is that really where all of their pride weapon stickers went? They’ve been looking for those, dammit. They were good stickers.

“I am… You still have it?” They ask, incredulous and losing the war against their grin at last. “How does it feel to accidentally get clocked by an eight year old from Oklahoma?”

They might actually have tears in their eyes from trying not to laugh. Oh, man, this is the best way for them to have met. They’ve changed their mind, they’re absolutely proud of themself.

 
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Lark’s stillness worried her. They were a spooked horse and Lily froze alongside them, holding her breath while waiting for them to explode into action and bolt. Instead, Lark’s eyes adopted a thousand-yard-stare, a sigh escaping them like a ghost. Did she bring up a bad memory? She wasn’t sure how Lark’s memories even worked, and somehow she managed to hit one of the few bad ones? Good fucking job.

Lily was dragged from her self-flagellation by a stone-faced Lark. She didn’t think she’d ever seen them look anywhere close to serious. Neutral, yes. Exhausted, absolutely. But never serious. It just looked a little wrong. Then the other shoe dropped, and Lily’s mouth fell open along with it. She stared at them in silence for a moment, the absurdity of the mock severity causing something in her brain to short-circuit.

“Yeah?” She asked hesitantly, unsure where they were going with this. “Were they not supposed to?”

Then the clouds broke and Lark’s smile shone through. While she would have preferred to take the moment to bask in its rays, Lily was too busy busting out laughing to do much basking. She flopped backwards onto the couch, managing to clock the sticker hiding on the ceiling as she gasped for air. Fumbling for a second, she fished around for her phone before tossing it towards Lark. They’d probably catch it, right? That’s what time powers were for after all.

“Of course I still have it. The other one is on my laptop. Also,” Lily managed to right herself, resting her elbows on her knees. She fixed Lark with a steely glare, a mirror to the seriousness they’d lanced her with a moment ago. She raised her hand, a single thumb sticking out.

“First, it feels wonderful. I’ve been curating the ‘lesbian ninja’ look for the past five years, thank you very much.” She managed to keep from cracking a smile, but only just. How the hell did they do it?

“Second,” Another finger went up. “Of course you were able to clock me back then. You always surround yourself with lesbians, makes it pretty easy to spot one.” Her mask broke as she raised an eyebrow, loosely gesturing with her raised hand before raising a third finger.

“Third, you have no room to criticize me about anything if you’re from fucking Oklahoma. Fourth, you’re from fucking Oklahoma?” Lily lost the straight face somewhere between first and second, and instead wore an expression of good-natured incredulity.

“Is that where all time travelers come from?”
​
 

Lily topples over the couch, her laughter so infectious that Lark can’t help but mirror it. They’re so busy laughing, in fact, that they don’t even notice the phone flying at their face until it clocks them in the forehead. It’s a solid hit too, and when they reel backwards, fumbling to catch the phone, they completely overbalance in their chair, tipping backwards.

They hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from their lungs, Lily’s phone caught awkwardly in the crook of their arm, and lay there stunned for a second before laughing again, breathless and convulsive, until their stomach hurts a little. There’s no point trying to hide their fumble, is there? Ah, they don’t even care.

Resigned to their fate, they get comfortable on the floor amid their hair clippings, their legs still thrown over the chair that once held them. Their skirt is all askew, and the only concession they make is to fix it so that it at least covers their knees. They’re wearing leggings, of course, but there’s no need to be improper. Lily might just have a heart attack, with their luck.

Skirt taken care of, they lift Lily’s phone in order to inspect it. She has a clear case, and behind it there is, in fact, the same sticker that they remember. It’s a little bit fried at the edges from being trapped in there, the whites gone faintly brown, but it still brings a smile to their face as they trace a finger over it.

“Of course,” they demur after her first point, voice low. There’s a strange feeling in their chest, warm and bright and somehow constricting at the same time. She really kept it close.

They put the phone back down before they can think too hard about it and ruin the moment. Her second point is a decent enough distraction, and they nearly choke on air when they realize what she means by it. “I was eight!” they feel the need to remind her, their hands flying to cover their face. Sure, they knew about gender by then, but sexuality wasn’t even on their radar until they started getting crushes.

They’re still smiling, though, and they lever themself up on their elbows to better grin at her, Cheshire and unapologetic. “Born ‘n raised,” they drawl, purposefully thickening their accent to the approximate consistency of molasses. “They went ‘n picked me up at the time traveler depot, darlin’, right between the ranch and the whole lotta nothin’.”

Their arms get tired, then, and they sink back to the floor with a little thump. The kitchen light is shining right in their eyes, forcing them to keep them half-squinted against the glare, and eventually they just close them. “Eh, it wasn’t the worst place to grow up. The air is sweeter there, especially if you go pre-industrial revolution, and the people are nice enough. You’re just jealous because you’ve got city slicker bones. Yankee.”

 
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Oh. That was a different laugh. It wasn’t the tired chuckle of someone whose eye circles were so dark light could not escape. It wasn’t the slightly frantic cackle of a trickster committing their latest prank, or running from being caught. It was pure. It was soft. It was happy.

Lily’s heart melted a bit, and she wished she could listen to it forever.

Her melted heart rapidly solidified into ice as she heard the sound of plastic hitting flesh, harder than if it landed gently in their hands. She bolted upright, just in time to see the time traveler teeter backwards and topple to the floor with a loud thud. Lily couldn’t move, hand slightly outstretched, mouth partially open as though preparing to apologize profusely out of one side and berate herself out of the other.

Fortunately Lark didn’t give her the chance to do either, that honey-sweet laugh filling her apartment with light once again. She joined them, flopping back onto the couch and letting her worries melt away. Just for a moment, she’d be happy with them. The future could wait. Lily shifted a little on the couch so she could keep an eye on Lark, two if at all possible. When they flashed her that crooked smile and cranked the dial on their accent, Lily couldn’t help but return both. She futilely tried to push down the feeling that enveloped her as soon as the 'darlin' fell from Lark's lips. She did a very poor job of it.

“Well ain’t that sweet, darlin’?" She mirrored them, poorly, trying not to think too hard what their reaction might be to her use of the six letter word. "How nice of Maw and Paw to take in a time traveler. I see they sprung for the premium model.” The complement slipped out despite her admittedly not best efforts, and Lily’s brain screamed to reel them back in, to clam up and not say anything again. But Lark was there, smiling sweetly at her, and how could Lily clam up around them anyways? They’d find a way to get her to open up. They always did.

“I’d rather have city slicker bones than bird bones, Lark.” Lily teased. “I bet if I tried I’d be able to pick you up as easily as I did when you were eight.” Perhaps a slight exaggeration, but Lily prided herself on her conditioning. She could almost certainly pick current-day Lark up. Maybe not enough to give them a piggy back ride, but certainly enough to just lift them. A moment of silence passed between them, Lily working to sift coherent thoughts from the warm mush that was her brain.

“How long have you had your powers, anyway? I know you’ve had them since at least eight, and it sounds like you’ve spent most of your childhood not, well not in your own time.”
​
 
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Lily’s attempt at a southern accent is horrendous. Lark is almost offended, except that they have no leg to stand on in that gambit. They’d have a lot to answer for, if mimicking terrible accents became a crime.

And anyways, it’s kind of funny, watching her struggle to draw out her vowels and clip her words at the right places. They wonder if she even notices how her voice pitches higher, or if she’s busy being possessed by the spirit of a southern belle. She even flips her ponytail at them, making them roll their eyes, but they can’t seem to bite back their smile so they’re definitely an accomplice to her terrible behavior.

“Ah, yes, I was definitely at the top of the bargain bin,” they can’t help but correct, dry. No, Lark was definitely not a premium time travel baby, if such a thing even existed. They were such a handful when they were younger.

Before their thoughts can drift, she continues, and they smile, laughing a little as their hair catches on the mortar between the kitchen tiles. They can see her if they tilt their head just right, they discover, and they rest their head at that angle without a thought to the crick in their neck. “Ha, probably. I wouldn’t bet against you, Lily Pond.”

The words are too honest, maybe, but they don’t take them back. They owe her that, at least. For all the little misdirections, if nothing else, and for the debt they’ll ask of her. Maybe it’s selfish, trying to pay it off in advance, but looking at how freely she smiles they can’t regret their decision.

If their smile is a little bittersweet, well, she seems caught up in her own thoughts. They’ve mastered it again by the time she speaks up, and they blink at her, surprised despite themself. “Oh, since I was born, I’m pretty sure. Sorry, I thought that was obvious, what with my-” they gesture vaguely “-everything.”

Maybe it wasn’t. They decide that it’s safe enough to elaborate a little further. “I wasn’t always able to tap into it as easily as I do now, but I figured it out pretty quick. And, yes, before you ask, I was a terror on the playground. You’re lookin’ at the undisputed champion of freeze tag, four years running.”

They pause, then huff an amused breath, fluttering their bangs out of their face. “Pun intentional. But yeah, I took myself on field trips. It’s good to learn the ropes early, even if you aren’t the one guiding the jumps. It’s kind of like… muscle memory, I guess? The ghost of muscles past?”

 
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“Hey, top of the bargain bin is still the top.” Lily pointed out, flawless in her logic as always. Her gaze darted away at their response, a familiar heat rising in her cheeks at the seemingly innocuous comment. It was just a compliment, confirming what she’d said. So why did it cause her heart to ache and put an itch in her limbs? Fortunately she was able to bury those questions and unsettling feelings as Lark answered her question. A specific comment caught her attention, and Lily sat up.

“Can’t say I follow. I only know about muscles present.” Lily clasped her hands and slowly put them behind her head, flexing her muscles and exaggeratedly posing to show off. Some part of her screamed in embarrassment, but it was drowned out by the rest of her actually enjoying herself. How long had it been since Lily had just goofed around with people, saying and doing stupid things without alcohol or it being a pretense for sex? She struck a few more poses, shoulders shaking with silent chuckles before she flopped back onto the couch. This time she shifted so her feet dangled over the back, her ponytail brushing the floor as Lark clung to the ceiling like some sort of spider-themed hero.

“I’m sure you ruled that playground with an iron fist, oh mighty tyrant.” She frowned in reverse, enjoying the new perspective. Lark was normally cagey about themselves. What happened between the last time she saw them and now that would make them open up so much. Whatever it was, Lily wasn’t complaining. She wanted to learn more, wanted to dive deeper into who they were, but she didn't want to spook them. It was better to let Lark open up at their own pace. Yeah, that would work. They just needed time.

“However, I think we’d have a tough competition on our hands.” Lily righted herself, the blood rushing to her head finally becoming too much to bear. “Nobody wanted to play tag with me, I owned the playground equipment.” Fond memories of diving through the jungle gym and rapidly scaling the outside of the slide, much to the chagrin of teacher and classmate alike, floated to the surface of Lily’s memory. Memories of her screaming victories combined with fantasies of the sheer futility of children trying to catch a silver-haired child who was never in the same place after you blinked. Lily chuckled at the thought.

“So I dunno. I’m pretty sure I could catch you, Lark. We should try it sometime, see if you’re still as good at running and dodging as you were back then.”
​
 

Their comment is rewarded by non-refundable tickets to the gun show, apparently, and Lark laughs along to hide their fascination with Lily’s admittedly well-sculpted arms. In their defense, it is incredibly difficult to put on muscle mass themself, what with their sparse hours in their present time, and, well, no they really don’t have a good excuse aside from that. Today is a day for indulgences, though, so it can be excused. For a little while longer, they can pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t matter, and so they focus on ooh-ing and ah-ing at the right moments, giggling between.

“Damn, do you have a permit for those? Or have I been rubbing elbows with unregistered lethal weapons all afternoon?” They tease afterwards, hiding their disappointment expertly. Would a wink be crossing a line? Probably. Ah, the compromises they make. They roll their head back to neutral, where they can look at safer things, like the sun. Or in this case the overhead lights.

“Terrible was my reign,” they agree, almost wistful. Those were the days. They weren’t the strongest child, or the smartest probably, but they sure were fast. Especially in the days before the other kids banded together to ban powers, but even after then they had a distinct advantage.

They’ve always been good at running. Shame it never seemed to help in the one place they really needed it to.

Shaking themself out of that train of thought before it can settle, they decide they’ve had enough of the floor. Their legs are falling asleep, and the chair has cut a distinct groove across the backs of their calves. They swing their legs to the side, then pause time so that Lily doesn’t have to watch them fumble for their footing. They pop back in with one knee on the righted chair, leaning over the back of the couch.

It’s strange, having their hair fall around only one side of their face. They feel off balance, almost, but they push through it to grin down at their host, a soft rain of little silver hairs falling around them. “Careful there, Lily, some folks might take that as a challenge.”

Idly, they scratch at their shoulder, trying to brush off some of the hair clippings that have stuck fast to the back of it. Is hair always this itchy? A quick glance confirms that their hoodie is in similarly dire straits, having slipped to the floor under the kitchen table at some point. They see laundry in their future. Or shopping. Probably shopping. Maybe stealing, if they’re feeling particularly bored.

 
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“What are you, a cop?” Lily teased back. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t enjoy at least some of the attention, and some of the poses turned out a little less showy and more, well, actually showing off her muscles for Lark. As they turned away she brought the show to a close, only slightly disappointed that it hadn’t gone longer. To be fair, there were only so many muscle groups she could show off in her current outfit and nope Lily was going to stop that train of thought real fucking quick before it got any messier. This was Lark, not one of the people she usually brought back after a night of alcohol and too-loud music. She couldn’t imagine Lark doing anything like that, not that she did!

Lily was glad that her companion’s gaze was fixed on the ceiling so they couldn’t see the bright scarlet splashed all over her face. Movement caught her attention, and she looked over just as Lark and their chair disappeared from view, hair fluttering to the floor like little silver feathers. She definitely didn't jump as she looked back and saw Lark hanging over her, a sharp but playful grin on their face.

“Maybe some folks would be right.” She stuttered back, barely managing the retort as her heart rate refused to settle. More silver hair rained down on her as Lark scratched their fresh undercut. Did they not know how haircuts worked? How long had it been since they'd had one? Maybe it'd been years and they just forgot. Maybe it was harder to keep mundane things in mind when you'd been running around time as much as they had.

“Yeah, hair can be one of the itchiest things ever." She said sympathetically. "Usually I just shower to get it off after I touch up my undercut.” She didn’t mention that she usually just shaved her hair while standing in the shower and washed all the hair down the drain. That didn’t seem like the kind of thing you admitted to in polite company, like eating cold hot dogs or watching My Little Pony.

“I’m sure I could find a pair of pajamas that fit you if you wanna go shower.” The sentence slipped out before Lily could even think about biting her tongue off. With that option no longer available to her, she instead decided to firmly plant her foot in her mouth. “Not that you need one! Just because it helps to rinse off the hair and I could run your clothes through the wash. I mean! There’s hair on them too, since you were on the floor. Yeah.”

Lily took a page from Lark’s book, sliding off the couch and slumping onto the floor. Her muffled voice drifted up to them.

“You can just go ahead and shoot me now, that’s okay.”​
 
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They probably shouldn’t take so much pride in startling her, but Lark has never claimed to be an entirely good person. Sometimes it’s just nice to jumpscare someone unsuspecting, to prove that they’ve still got it. They draw back a little so that their hair doesn’t trail into her face, afterwards, resting their hands on the back of the couch, but their eyes linger over her.

Not for too long, no, they wouldn’t go that far, but there’s something nice about the moment, and despite themself they make an effort to catalogue all of the little details. For a rainy day, they think, a cloud passing over their face before they push it aside. Not now.

“Oh?” They hum, only half-paying attention to her comment. Something about a shower? That does sound pretty nice. They aren’t usually one to mind getting a bit messy, but there are little hairs all along their arms and back that simply will not go away no matter how they brush at them. It’s kind of distracting, in the annoying kind of way.

The words only properly register as she continues talking, and they blink, turning back to look at her with a too-quick jerk of their head.

“Um-” they manage, their voice coming out somewhat choked. They aren’t sure what their face is doing, other than being on fire, but they can’t seem to wrangle it over the wave of what? and here? and a strange mix of flattery and something like embarrassment. No, not embarrassment. That isn’t the right word, but they can’t think of a better one.

It’s just been a while since they’ve been in someone’s house for long enough to warrant an offer like that being made. Not since - well, not since they decided not to stay in one place for too long. It makes something twist in their chest to think that, sharp and only distantly familiar.

They pause time. They should’ve paused it several seconds ago, but they’re not on top of their game today, it seems. A deep breath and a moment to think allows them to get past the initial surprise, and they’re smiling softly as they return to the present moment, face still faintly pink but having regained their composure. “That sounds nice, actually.”

There’s a part of them that wants to decline, or to provide for themself so she doesn’t inconvenience herself, but the better part is curious to see how this plays out. Just for today, they think. Besides, they don’t want to leave just yet. It would end the adventure. It would mark the final note, the moment where the curtains have to close. Once they walk out properly, they won’t be able to come back. It just wouldn’t be fair, to either of them.

“Yeah. I think I will do that,” they continue, more sure of the idea. Just for a little while longer, they mentally insist, biting the inside of their cheek. If they don’t think too far ahead, they can enjoy the moment. They can have this.

“Or if you really insist,” they begin, slow and drawling as though they're considering something, even as they move to lean over the back of the couch with one arm extended, “I could just shoot you.”

Their hand curls into a finger gun, the ring and pinky finger curled in.

“Bang,” they deadpan, almost falling off of their chair perch with the fake recoil. Then, laughing lightly, they uncurl their fingers and let their hand relax, offering it to her palm-up. “Feel better?”

The snarls in their mind are their own problem. They can do this for her.

 
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For a moment, Lily thought she’d royally fucked up. She’d never seen the expression Lark was making before, red staining their pale features. The only times she’d seen an expression like that was at clubs or bars when she got a little too drunk and played up the buff butch angle to try and get someone to come home with her. When it happened then it was a flustered expression, bashful and flattered. That couldn’t be what Lark was feeling, they never got bashful. They certainly never wanted her that way. Right? They were always covered from head to toe, they didn’t really seem like the kind of person who’d look at her or anyone really that way. Maybe they’d get a crush on someone else, maybe whoever they spent their time with when they disappeared for those long stretches, but that wasn’t her business, was it? That tightness in her chest as the thought crossed her mind certainly wasn’t her business.

Lily may not have had the benefit of time travel but like Lark she also knew how to firmly fix a mask in place. She saw Lark glitch, knew that they stopped time to fix whatever she’d done wrong, knew that it was her fault, and forced the feeling in her chest to stay put. It obliged, although it grew and pressed painfully against her rib cage as they took up her offer. It’s just a shower, Lily, for fuck’s sake. And not like that. You offered to let them shower because you cut their hair. You’re reading way too much into this and you need to fucking chill.

God, maybe she needed a cold shower. Just play along. It was easier to let Lark lead, that way she couldn’t put them in a position they didn’t want to be in. She raised an eyebrow as Lark drawled, not recognizing where they were going until it was too late. Lily flopped a little as the phantom bullet struck, arms and legs sprawling on the ground. She cracked an eye to see them extending a hand over the back of the couch.

“A little,” she lied. It was nice at least for them not to call out her absolute idiocy, but the pain in her chest seemed to have a cousin that had taken up residence in her throat. Lily sat up a little, grabbing Lark’s hand, and let them haul her to her feet. “Here, let me show you the bathroom.” Thank god she had a clean towel and washcloth. Fuck, she needed to do laundry.

“So yeah, I can just get the PJs and leave them by the door.” She explained as she handed Lark the necessary cleaning supplies. “Uh, so you don’t have to worry about anything, I'll just stay in my room. You can knock when you’re done.” She stood there awkwardly for a second, trying to think if there was anything else to say. “Um, sorry if the shampoo and conditioner aren’t really your style. I don’t have a lot of guests.” An awkward chuckle, a mental kick.

“Enjoy your shower!” Lily said too hastily, not quite slamming the door behind her and running to her room. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and her heart was certainly bruising her ribs, if not cracking a couple. Finding the first pair of pajama pants and oversized t-shirt she could, Lily not so gently dropped the kind of messy pile in front of the door. She half-turned to go back to her room, but paused. Sighing, she picked the clothes back up, folded them as best she could, and set them back down before returning to her room and closing the door.

Once in her room, Lily crawled onto her bed, folded her legs under her, and picked a random playlist on her phone. As the music began to play she let out another sigh and focused on breathing and slowing her heart. It was fine. They’d only be here for a little bit, then they’d be gone again. That’s just how Lark was.

They’d leave her again soon.
​
 

Before they know it, Lark is standing in Lily’s bathroom, a towel and washcloth carefully balanced on their hand. They look at the closed door for a long moment, hesitant, before placing the towel on the counter and setting their newly freed hand on the doorknob.

Should they have said something? Lily did seem… off. Almost frantic, as though eager to get away from them, and they had gone along with it hoping that their quiet acquiescence would help in some way, but now they wonder if they made it worse. Should they say something now?

The white paint on the door doesn’t have any answers for them, but they stare at it for another long minute anyways. Then, without a word, they turn the lock. It feels like giving up, but they tell themself it’s just a temporary delay. They’ll make it up to her later.


It isn’t the worst shower they’ve been in. It might, actually, be one of the best, if only because of the severely limited competition. Modern plumbing is flatly superior to everything that came before it, and the water stays warm even after they spend nineteen and a half minutes zoning out to the tick of distant clocks. That’s really all they can ask for.

A future Lark dropped by at some point, but they didn’t stick around to chat. Not that Lark tried to convince them to. They’re keeping loops to a minimum for today, they’ve already decided, so it must’ve been something important. Some minutiae that needed tidying, if they had to guess.

They step out of the shower to find a pile of haphazardly folded clothes waiting for them. Their own clothes, they discover, after they dry their hands and poke around a little. They hesitate again, then shove most of the clothes under the sink. Why are there so many? And why bring them at all? Maybe Lily’s pajamas don’t fit? They’ll still try them, they decide.


The pajamas do fit. Lark is confused, and pleasantly warm, and tired from a day - week, really - of adventuring and not thinking too hard about things. They stack the clothes that the future Lark brought under the sink, making it officially a later problem, and wander out into the apartment.

They don’t really think about it when they flop down on the couch. There’s a vague thought, maybe, that they’ll just wait there for a minute until Lily comes out of her room, but they find their eyes slipping closed without any conscious decision on their part. Sleep tugs them insistently into its arms, and they’re too tired to fight it. Or maybe, just this once, they don’t want to. Oblivion claims them all the same.

 
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She didn’t notice when her playlist looped the first time. She tried not to when it looped a second. By the time it looped a third time, Lily shut the music off with a frustrated sigh. She couldn’t hear the shower running anymore, which means Lark must have finished. She’d figured they might take a long one, wash off the sweat and grime of the day in addition to the remnants of their haircut. But the water had definitely shut off a while ago, and she still hadn’t heard the knock. She didn’t want to assume the worst, but it had happened before.

Had she really pushed them away that quickly?

She was no stranger to the “quick shower and gtfo” routine. Hell, she'd done it plenty of times herself. Sometimes you just didn’t want to hang around for the other person to wake up and start asking hard questions, like “do you want breakfast?” or, god forbid, “so what are we?”. She’d gotten that once and it made her want to jump out the window. Lily purposefully ignored how her thoughts jumped to Lark as that last question crossed her mind. It was just…they usually said goodbye before they left.

Even if it was just a quick “see ya”, they usually let her know before disappearing in their typical emerald-cloaked way. There’d been a couple times when they’d vanished without warning but those didn’t choke her up the way she felt now. She couldn’t breath, cold iron filling her throat as she fell back, curling in on herself. Wetness filled her eyes but the tears did not flow, not fully. Somehow, she knew this would happen.


Darkness had claimed her room by the time Lily’s eyes opened again. She hadn’t wanted to fall asleep, she just wanted the pain to numb and hadn’t felt like going to the kitchen. Her mouth was dry and coarse. Slowly, heavily, Lily levered herself upwards. She managed to stand and make her way to her door, cracking it and heading out into the living room. She stopped dead. Every instinct of hers strained against the fog of sleep, screaming at her to get a weapon. She wasn’t alone. Someone else was in her apartment with her. A light snoring sound came from her couch. Lily crept forward, a cobalt tonfa silently materializing in her right hand. Had someone broken in just to crash on her couch? Who-

Silver hair glinted in the dim evening light. A figure was laying facedown, clad in familiar clothes. Lark was asleep on her couch. The weapon blinked out of existence, and Lily took a few seconds to process what she was seeing. Lark was sleeping on her couch. They were just there, dead to the world, softly snoring. They looked at rest. No constant movement, no tired eyes and weary smiles, the worry smoothed from their face. She wished she could see them look like this more often. She snatched her hand back, not realizing she’d been about to brush a lock of hair out of their face.

Glancing around, Lily did the next softest thing she could do, quietly picking up the blanket off the back of the couch and spreading it over the unresponsive time traveler. Quiet as a whisper, Lily went back the way she came, slipping back into her room and shutting the door. She climbed back into bed, and let a single thought cross her mind before sleep reclaimed her.

They had stayed.
​
 
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Lark wakes up bleary-eyed and dry-mouthed, feeling simultaneously like they’ve slept for an ungodly amount of time and no time at all. It is, unfortunately, a familiar feeling, though it’s been a while since they’ve let themself sleep for so long while displaced from their proper time.

Vaguely irritated at their future - past? - self for not waking them up or dragging their unconscious body back to the present - they have a policy about this sort of thing, darn it - they peel their face off of the couch. Eugh. Their hair is still damp, and so is the couch cushion. Such are the perils of going to sleep with their hair wet.

Why didn’t they stop by that beach to dry it off, first? The one in… whenever. The one with the sun, and the waves, and the quiet. They usually do that, don’t they?

Groaning miserably, they flop back down, burrowing into their blanket. It doesn’t matter. Getting up is just too much effort right now, and it’s not like they ever have a schedule for anything. They’ll stay here in their blanket pile for a little while longer. Just until they can scrape together the will to move.

Wait a second. Their blanket pile is severely lacking in blankets. Lark squints one eye open, tugging at a corner of the blanket, singular, until they can peer at it, and relaxes again. Well, this is their blanket, so they can’t be too far from home.

They’re halfway to dozing again when their eyes shoot open, and they sit up, dizzy with the sudden clarity and change of elevation. They gave that blanket to Lily, just yesterday. This isn’t their apartment, it’s Lily’s. That’s why it was familiar.

“Shit,” they curse, quietly, throwing off the blanket. They don’t need to see the position of the sun to know what time it is, but they stumble to the window to look anyway. Sure enough, the sun is well over the horizon, stinging their eyes when they shove the curtains aside. They close the curtains again hurriedly, bunching the fabric in their fist as their mind whirls.

Why are they still here? It was just supposed to be one day, that was the deal. One day, and then they would leave, so that neither of them got too attached. It isn’t fair, otherwise, and it was never going to be fully fair but they had a plan and they were going to follow it.

Except it didn’t work, did it? They had a false start, and too many stumbles to call that a really solidly good day. So maybe… maybe this is a chance to try again. They think of the clothes their future self dropped off, still stored under the sink, and the tense, unhappy set to Lily’s shoulders when she had all but pushed them into the bathroom.

Just one more day. They can do it right, this time. They’ll make up for yesterday, and then they can leave on good terms. One more day.

They stand by the window for a while even after they’ve made their decision, framed by the strengthening light that creeps in around the edges of the curtains. They aren’t sure why they’re frozen, but their eyes are fixed on Lily’s door, and their mind is strangely quiet. They could skip forward to when she wakes up, they know, but… well. They’ve got time.

 

It wasn’t an alarm that woke up Lily, but the sun. She’d made a half-assed attempt to close her curtains before falling asleep, but now a solitary sunbeam threaded the needle to rest directly on her face. She grumbled and rolled over, trying to avoid it, but the damage was already done. With a groan she pulled herself upright, her sore muscles complaining with her. Ah well, complaining muscles were no excuse. She had a routine to maintain, damn it.After quickly changing into some running gear, Lily popped in her earbuds and started her running playlist.

You are just a friend.
That’s what I told myself a million times
Again and again.​

Tapping her fingers to the beat, Lily pushed open her bedroom door. She barely stepped through it before stopping dead in her tracks. Lark was there, silver-haired and examining the curtains as though they were one of the most interesting things. Their hair was a little matted on one side, probably where they slept on it while wet. They were still wearing the pajamas she lent them last night, and holy shit they stayed. They’d actually stayed.

“Hey.” Lily said softly, popping out her earbuds and pausing her music. She stood rooted to the spot, as though afraid that one more step would shatter the illusion and her apartment would be empty again. “I was, uh, gonna go. On a run.” Why did her voice always stop working around them?

“You can come with me, if you want. I don’t know if I have running clothes in your style, though.” Her voice trailed off at the end, wondering if she should’ve stopped like halfway through that sentence. “Or you can help yourself to whatever. You did get most of it.” She chuckled weakly, unsure where to move the conversation, where to move herself. Her feet were encased in cement and she had a million questions on her tongue. Why were they still here, when they normally would have moved on already? Was it because they cared about her? Did they care about her, and in what way? Was she imagining things or was yesterday a da-

“Um. Yeah.” Eloquence, thy name is Pond.
​
 

They don’t know how long they stand there before the door starts to open. Well, yes, they do know, what with how their internal clock never really stops ticking, but it isn’t important. Lark is much more concerned with turning hurriedly away so that it doesn’t look like they’ve been staring at her door. Is that a weird thing to do? It feels like a weird thing to do. They don’t want her to think they were waiting for her, or something, even if they were.

They end up facing the curtains, which, while still being kind of a ridiculous thing to zone out staring at, is a bit more socially acceptable. They think.

It’s just going to get harder to cover for those kinds of mistakes the longer they stay, isn’t it? They push it from their mind, turning - casually! - to greet Lily with a smile. “Hi.”

Turning is another mistake, but it’s one they don’t recognize in time to prevent. It isn’t even any shortcoming of their own, this time, unless the way their brain shorts out when they see her is a genuine medical condition they need to be concerned about. They’re pretty sure it isn’t, not unless they’ve accidentally turned the clock back far enough that lesbianism is still considered a disease. Though with how warm and lightheaded they suddenly feel, it might as well be.

Their traitorous brain catalogues it all in an instant; the cropped open-sided tank, hem high enough to flirt with the band of something black underneath that they are not thinking about, jesus christ, the black high-waisted biker shorts, matching - what did they just say - the low cut socks and tennis shoes, and, of course, the incredible amount of skin and muscle on display.

They rip their eyes away, not that it’ll do them any good now that the sight is burned into their memory, and try to find a place to set them that isn’t so blatantly… they don’t even know what. Well, if they felt half-asleep before, now they’re certainly awake.

Not even a time stop is going to help them, is it? Fifteen seconds to scream into the void does sound appealing, but they decide to just push through it. Her ear is safe enough to look at, so they fix their gaze there, wandering only slightly when they notice that she still hasn’t undone the braids they did for her yesterday. “Oh, a run, huh?”

That explains the outfit. It is the middle of summer, after all; she’s wearing a perfectly suitable warm-weather getup, with appropriate deference to the weather. Lark has just spent too much time in the 1800s lately and now it’s coming back to bite them. That must be the reason they were surprised.

They’re pleased with how steady their voice sounds, steady enough that they chance a glance at her face proper. So calm. So casual. What fluster? Lark has never been flustered, ever. “Yeah, I’ll go with. I have some, uh, I can get my own clothes. Thanks for the pajamas, though, they were nice. Comfy.”

Oh, are they glad that they have that stash of clothes now. They can’t even imagine trying to - nope, not going to imagine it. They put on their most enigmatic grin as they sidle around the couch, pointing with both hands at the bathroom. “I’ll go do that. One second.”

They beat a hasty retreat before they can further ruin their streak of not being a useless lesbian. This do-over might be even more difficult to pull off than they imagined.

 

Lily didn’t know how much Lark slept. The constant dark circles under their eyes seemed to indicate that any sleep they got was sporadic at best and nonexistent at worst. She wasn’t sure if that was due to their apartment or just a side effect of time travel. Maybe they couldn’t really sleep when they were traveling. She had no idea if this Lark was actually present, for lack of a better term, but they must have just woken up.

They must still be waking up, actually, zoning out and staring forward when she comes out of her room. If they’d been checking her out, she would’ve been a little flattered, maybe struck a pose or two, but that wasn’t the case. They were just tired, the sleep still heavy in their eyes, and it was enough to break Lily out of her hesitation and step across the threshold, having been invited into her own home, and began to move around the apartment. Try as she might, her gaze kept darting back to Lark, to their messy hair and soft voice and tired eyes and that was enough of that train of thought. In hindsight she should’ve given Lark a lighter blanket last night, their face looked red and warm in the morning light.

“Oh? Did Santa Lark come by in the night and leave some presents behind?” She laughed a little at her own joke, acknowledging how bad it was. She hadn’t noticed another Lark appear, but then again they were sneakier than some of the literal ninjas she’d known. It would probably have been child’s play for a future Lark to show up, drop off some clothes, and vanish back into the jade-green night.

“Yeah, you go do that. I’ll be here.” Lily tried to hide the excitement in her voice at Lark’s acceptance of her offer. They didn’t really seem like the athletic type, so this was a bit of a surprise. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind she wondered how Lark even got their hands on running clothes before pushing those thoughts away before they could turn to imagining what they would be wearing.

God she needed to stop being such a useless lesbian.

To try and get her mind off it she paced around the apartment, stretching here and there and taking quick glances at her phone in between. Her eyes kept darting to the bathroom door, and she may or may not have adjusted her stretches accordingly. This was her living room, and nobody could tell her she was stretching wrong in her own apartment. Until she got self-conscious and shifted so she wasn’t in immediate view of the door as soon as it would open. Then after a few stretches she got it into her mind that she could just play it off as stretching before the whole cycle began again, to the point where she almost spent more time hemming and hawing over where and how she was stretching as she did actually stretching.

Of course, all this was necessary. She didn't want to pull a muscle while running. Then Lark would have to carry her back to the apartment and nope nope nope. Stretches, yes. Feel the burn.
​
 

“Something like that,” Lark agrees, too busy shoving the bathroom door open to consider the appropriate amount of details to drop on time-travel shenanigans. They duck inside with no small amount of relief, shutting the door with care and then slumping against it.

They stop time so that they can slide to the floor in peace, laying on the cool tiles until their head stops spinning. Handsome women should come with warning labels, they think blearily. They’re a health hazard. Either that, or Lark needs actual sleep in their own time sometime in the next week. It’s definitely one of the two.

The chimes are half-expected, honestly, and they don’t bother to move as another Lark steps around them to open the cabinet under the sink and pull out some clothes. They’ll be that Lark soon. Just as soon as their heart realizes that they aren’t, in fact, being chased by a tiger.

“Shorts,” they remind themself, cracking open one eye. The other Lark rolls their eyes good-naturedly, a pair of shorts already in hand. They wiggle them in their past self’s direction with an exasperated, “Duh.”

“Heatstroke is no joke,” they both say at the same time. Lark cracks a smile, closing their eyes on the other Lark’s quiet chuckle. Ah, they’ll be alright.


They end up in a green long-sleeved shirt that may, in fact, be from the same store as the one they were wearing when they started this whole venture, paired with a long black skirt that flutters with many layers of chiffon when they move. It shouldn’t be too warm, hopefully, and they’ve got shorts on under it just in case they do need to pull out the parkour.

The mirror is a hassle to work around, but they manage not to look into it too much. Or to look for too long at their past self. Or to think too hard about their hair as they throw it into a ponytail. Really just ignoring that whole minefield, they breeze back out into the apartment with as much grace as they can muster.

“Ready when you are, Ms. Pond,” they announce, already braced for Lily’s appearance this time and able to grin at her without their eyes wandering - or at least without them wandering too much, they amend. She has very nice calves. Which is just an observation! Because her hands are on her shoes, because she’s stretching before a run, and they’re going to look away now.

A flicker, in which they absolutely keep their eyes where they belong, and then they’re standing by the door. They put their hands in the pockets of their skirt - sewn on themself, thank you very much - and poke at the edge of something sharp. That’s better. Much safer, too.

 
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Lily resisted the urge to whip around to see Lark as soon as they emerged from the bathroom. She finished her stretch, her cheeks oddly warm, then turned to look at them. That was…not what she expected. In hindsight, she probably should have. Yesterday was probably the most skin she’d seen on Lark in all the time they’d been togeth-, in all the time they’d known each other. Which, granted, was a bit skewed due to Time Travel Shenanigans, but still. She hardly could’ve expected them to match her outfit.

But what they were wearing fit, fit much better than if they had mirrored her, actually. The green long-sleeved shirt looks soft, and the soft whisper of the skirt as they moved made Lily smile a little, for some reason.

“You look wonderful, Lark.” The words slipped out before she had a chance to snatch them back, and for once Lily let them go. It still filled her chest with that sort of tight feeling, but she could live with that. She could live with that. “Then off we go, Mx.,” Lily waited for a moment, fishing to see if she could get Lark’s surname. She hadn’t really thought of it before, but it was a bit weird that she still didn’t know it, despite them knowing hers.

Once rebuffed, Lily shrugged and led them down the stairs, flashing Lark a small grin as she passed them in the doorway. Once the warm sun could probably bestow its rays upon them, Lily paused to make sure Lark was with her before setting out at a light jog. To be honest, it was just fast enough to not be considered walking. Despite their eagerness to join, she didn’t think they were up for her usual morning runs. Plus this way they could talk. Just the two of them, nice and casual.

“Oh hey,” Lily started, to get their attention. “Did you knock last night after your shower? I didn’t hear you so I wasn’t sure. I did have my music a bit loud so I just might not have heard it.” She raised an eyebrow when she realized there was a repetitive metallic sound that had been following them since they left the apartment. She cast a curious glance thighward. Covered thighward, she reminded herself.

“Lark. Are you clanking?” She added, confused.
​
 
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