Time Isn't Real Pt. 01

Hello my lovelies.

So, this one has been in the works for... some time now - and it's ended up a fair bit longer than anticipated, so I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour!

Love ya's,

Iri x

CW: questionable consent; rape mention;

CHAPTER ONE - THE POWER

Time isn't real, I told myself, thinking those words over and over and over again. They flowed around my mind, ingraining and solidifying themselves, just like he said they would. My poor father's last words, before...

No. Don't distract yourself, Brooke.

Time isn't real. Time isn't real. Time isn't...

If I wasn't paying attention, waiting for it, I might have missed it. The cafeteria around me, part of the University campus, paused. Just for a second. Less than a second.

But it happened.

I saw how the clock hesitated. The TVs above the checkout froze, as did the real people beneath them. A sandwich however in mid-air as someone dropped it into their bag, the rustling of its paper wrapping vanishing for a moment.

And then, it all came flooding back. Chatter from the TV, the voices of strangers around me going about their day, talking on phones or in little groups in a booth-like table off in the corner. Reality crashed back in, none the wiser.

I held in my excitement, trying not to laugh or anything - there was no need to draw attention to myself.

'Thanks, Dad,' I whispered to myself, almost like a prayer, before finishing my Cheese Ploughman's baguette.

Stopping time was hungry work.

* * *

'Brooke?' I heard Shannon call as the door shut behind me. Student life meant I was living with three roommates, and three roommates meant a severe lack of privacy. So, even though I couldn't see anyone as I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on a hook over the shoe rack, I could hear Shannon somewhere ahead of me - probably in the kitchen, which was dead ahead. Upstairs, I heard a set of feet moving around, and guess that was probably Kloe, who was an avid dancer - gloriously breaking the stereotypes of 'second-year computer programming student' wherever she went. I couldn't hear the dull mff-mff-mff that typically signalled Ryan being in his room, so either he was unusually quiet, or he was still out.

My head, aching from my cafeteria training, was begging me for something alcoholic and tasty, so I followed the sound of Shannon's voice after I kicked off my rain-splattered boots and dropped my bag at the base of the stairs.

I pushed through the kitchen door, and a waft of tomato-and-garlic washed over me, making me moan with hunger.

'Fuck, that smells good.'

'I'm teaching myself how to make pasta sauce from scratch,' she told me, as she stood over a pan, stirring a well-seasoned mix of chopped tomatoes and sliced sausages, with a pot of spaghetti bubbling next to it. 'You probably don't need anyone asking how you are-'

'Nah,' I said with a smile, opening the fridge lazily, allowing myself to meander around the linoleum floor in my socks. 'I've had enough of that this weekend.'

Shannon nodded, turning back to her food. 'Still. You're back soon. Ryan said we shouldn't expect you back for a week or two.'

I shrugged. 'We weren't close, so...'

She didn't pry, and I thanked her silently for that as I pulled out some cheese, planting it next to Shannon's prep area.

'Thanks,' she said, letting go of her wooden spoon to give me a half-hearted hug around my shoulders. I accepted it, but when she was done I made a quick escape. Up the wooden stairs, slightly slippery under my socks, I headed, stopping at my locked bedroom door to fumble through my keys, when I heard Shannon shouting from downstairs - 'You have some post, by the way! Put it under your door!'

I got the damn thing open, and heard the rustle of paper drag across the carpet as I kicked the post by accident. I picked it up, slipped into my cozy little room, and locked the door shut behind me.

With a sigh, I dropped my bag by the overloaded laundry basket, and flicked on the lamp. Behind it was a mirror, which served to double the amount of light pouring in, and yet the room still seemed darker than it should. It was warm, at least.

My bed, half-made with blue covers, waited for me with open arms, but I resisted for now. I would have plenty of time to cry myself to sleep later. First, I went to the table that sat beneath my window, styled by me into a desk, and pulled the laptop I'd left here out of the top drawer. I opened it, plugged in the charger, and wiped my eyes. All of a sudden, I was very tired.

In my bag was a photo in a frame, given to me by Mum. I wasn't ready to get it out yet, to look at it, but when I did, it was going to sit just here, on my desk. The picture was of me and Dad, from last year. He'd been sick at the time, but it was early-on enough that we were still going out and doing things. 'While I still can,' he'd joked. Not much of a joke, now, though. We were on a ferry, thick coats on, hoods up and hot chocolates in-hand. Behind us were the rocky cliffs of a Scottish coastal island I forgot the name of. Both of us were grinning, cheeks red from the cold and rain.

For the past year, that photo had been on my Dad's desk, back home. I wasn't quite ready to get it out, yet.

My laptop beeped to live, bringing me back to reality.

'Okay,' I croaked, stretching my back and realising I was still wearing my jacket only as it creaked over my straining clavicle. I unzipped it, and loaded up my emails, opening Facebook and all that. The notifications were mostly photo-tags from the funeral, and a strange anger washed over me. It wasn't like it was a wedding - it was a bit distasteful to take photographs at a wake and post them online, wasn't it?

I closed Facebook, and looked through my emails.

Spam, spam, spam. Nothing interesting.

Strange, how something as monumental as a person dying didn't stop the world from being, generally speaking, completely boring.

I shrugged my jacket off, so it was hanging inside-out on the back of my chair, and grabbed the post. Three letters, two of which looked like spam, as well. The third, though, was hand-written. I pushed my thumb under the flap, and ripped it open. Inside, a side of lined A4, also hand-written.

'Huh,' I mused, giving it a read.

To Brooke,

I hope this finds you well, and I am so sorry for your loss. Your father was a dear friend, and will be sorely missed.

My name is Hugo Ruanne, Professor of Mathematics, Physics and Relativity. I worked with your father on studying his 'condition' - a euphemism that was far kinder before his diagnosis.

I am writing to offer you kindness, and a level of support, though I'm hesitant to specify the subject in writing. If you are, as your father suspected, in possession of the same condition, then please contact me on the number I've included below.

Time isn't real.

Warmest sympathies,

Hugo Ruanne

From behind the letter slipped another piece of paper - another photograph, and again presenting an image of my Dad. This time, however, he was standing with a man I vaguely recognised, bearded and bespectacled. My father, clean-cut and wearing a flatcap he liked to annoy my mother with, had his arm around the stranger's - I assumed, Mr. Ruanne's - shoulders, holding champagne flutes, the room around them a bay window that looked out onto a sunset-painted garden, the carpet maroon and the curtains gold. They looked happy, and the place looked fancy. I didn't recognise it.

I took a moment to absorb the information.

I knew that the condition, as it was apparently called, was hereditary. Dad had told me as much, in the little snippets of information he had given me.

Time isn't real. That phrase, I thought, was just between me and him. Apparently not. This Hugo, he knew the key phrase, too. It gave me a glow of trust, however, knowing that whoever he was, my father had given him the same, if not more, information as what I had.

There was a number, beneath his name, that functioned as an open invitation. A way for me to understand this... connection. This thread, that had gone from Dad to me.

It made sense, if this really was all about time, that Dad would have sought out a Professor of Relativity. Someone who knew how time warped and bent better than most. It was the obvious choice.

Whatever this power, this condition was, and if there was any way to understand it, the road to understanding started with Hugo.

But, I was just far too tired to bother today.

It had been a long day - a long week. All I needed was to sleep in my own bed, even if it was still daylight outside. Even if Shannon's food smelled amazing downstairs. Even if there was a phone number waiting to be called.

So, I put my phone on top of the letter, on my desk, and stood. I stripped, enjoying the warm air on my bare skin, even though the whiff of body odour and the weight of my unwashed hair begged for a shower. I decided to get on that as soon as I woke up. For now, I would just sleep.

Just... sleep...

CHAPTER TWO - THE COUPLE

When I woke, it was to darkness. The covers were warm, and my limbs had twisted into them the way I often did when I dreamed - wrapping the end of the duvet under my foot, and then pulling a corner in under a knee, my arms pinning the top to my chest, right up to my chin. For a moment, I convinced myself that I would be able to slip back into a blissful, indulgent over-sleep, which I thought I deserved.

Then, I heard it - the thing that had probably pulled me out of my sleep in the first place.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

Over and over again, the sound of Ryan's bed frame hitting the other side of the wall we shared made an uncomfortable rhythm that filled the room. I had no idea whether Ryan knew that his... rambunctious sexual appetite meant that I had lost hours of sleep each time he had his girlfriend round, as I had never brought it up with him. There was no way for him to know.

Still, if my bedframe was slamming into the wall over and over again, it might have at least crossed my mind.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

What was worse, and I knew it was coming, is that the girlfriend, a bouncy 18-year old ginger thing called Penny, wasn't what would be called quiet. Any moment now, I was going to start to get an expletive-filled commentary to match the hammering on my wall.

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

I groaned, pulling my head under the covers, basking in the warm little pod I had created for myself. And the warmth was growing.

I would never admit it out loud, but by way of my less-than-active sex life, the sound of Ryan and Penny's well-paced pounding was starting to get to me. The image in my mind of that sound coming from my own bed, some well-hung guy with nice eyes making me swear as I came on him...

Oh, god, Brooke - stop it.

Then, as though to tempt me, Penny's wailing began, muffled through the plaster but unmistakably pleased with her situation.

'Ah! AH! Yes, Ry, YES! Hmff - hah, hah, hah, HNN!'

A bashful sort of shame fell over me, as I listened to her high-pitch whines, hearing how her pleasure made her forget about the world, focused only on the man currently inside her.

'FUCK - Oh, Ry!'

Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud.

'Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yES!'

I shifted, that bashful sort-of warm giving way to my own arousal. I wasn't proud of it, but there's only so long I could go listening to a girl moaning her little heart out before my own bisexual little heart started to beat a little faster.

I pulled the covers down, letting the sounds of their fucking reach me a little easier, as the warm air beneath the duvet beckoned my hand to slide lower, slipping under the soft material, snaking across my body. Searching.

'OH G- hah, hah, HNNNYES RY!'

As her hollers went on, likely filling the house by now, my fingers found the mound of my sex, the shape of my skinny hips leading me there effortlessly. I bit back a moan of my own as I spread my thighs, just enough to get access, and felt my wetness on my fingertips. My digits slid across my slick lips, as I listened to the oncoming orgasm through the walls.

'Fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme!'

My other hand joined my first, as I let my eyes closed - not that there was much to see in the dark, anyway - and just... listened.

My roommate was giving his girlfriend a run for her money, and I was past the point of caring whether that stopped me from getting a run in, too. So, as one set of fingers slid against the nub of pleasure at the crest of my sex, the other slipped below. I pushed a finger into myself, and gasped as my unattended pleasure centers opened up.

Thud, thud, thud, became thmthmthmthmthm - Ryan must have been close to peaking.

My fingers sped up, too, matching their rhythm.

'Oh, God, Ry - I'm gonna, gonna cum! Keep going! YES - Y-'

I sighed as I fucked myself, quietly, and in the privacy of my bed, and felt the small but much-needed orgasm wash some of the tension out of my joints. My hands, slick and soiled, fell to my sides, and the quiet set in.

Hmm.

It was a little quieter than I would expect. I had heard Penny close to cumming, but I knew from experience - not first hand, of course - that she was a screamer. Ryan, too would usually keep going until I heard a loud moan of his own. Then, giggling, or small conversation as they sorted themselves out.

But no. Nothing.

I lifted the duvet, planning to get up and have that shower, and froze when I saw what had happened.

The duvet stayed, lifted up as I had moved it. I swung my legs out, and stood, stark naked, heart pounding, as I looked at the half-levitating bedspread in front of me.

'Oh, shit,' I whispered, trying to hold back a laugh. Had I done this on purpose? Was this even me?!

I went to the window, making sure not to let any passers-by get a peek at my chest - you never know who's looking into your window these days - and saw someone up the street, walking a German Shepherd. Both of them, frozen mid-step.

There was a car, too, on the road, not moving.

Once my brain recognised what was happening, I realised that even the rain had stopped, hanging in the air. Perfect spheres, tiny and levitating.

A surge of confidence ran through me then, knowing that there was no-one else in the world who was 'awake' right now. That confidence was followed by a hint of uncertainty, as I hadn't done this on purpose - was this going to just happen now? Whenever?

I stood straighter, knowing that my C-cups would be visible to the old guy walking his dog if he looked up - but also knowing he wouldn't. Couldn't. Fuck, I could have walked out there and shimmied in his face and he would never have known.

A shiver ran through me. A little burst of thrill.

I could do whatever I wanted.

Still, I was in no mood to be caught in the nuddy if time decided, against my will, that it would get going again. So, I pulled on a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a green plain t-shirt, no socks or undies needed, and went to the door.

I bit my lip. How many times have I heard Ryan make Penny cum like a rocket, and yet I've never actually SEEN it? It wasn't a secret, after all, that I had a bit of a thing for Ryan. And Penny. They were both cute, and Ryan had this sort-of stubble and short, curled hair that made him kinda dreamy. Like something from a bad rom-com. And Penny was a walking wet-dream. She was a gymnast, and had the body of it, and Ryan had endured more than one ribbing from Shannon about how 'she sure seems... bendy'.

No one would know if I just... snuck in.

Victimless crime.

Fuck it.

I unlocked the door, though the usual click didn't meet my ears. Sound was moving ripples through atoms, after all, and nothing could move right now, so...

Science. Odd.

I pulled the door open, and slipped out into the dark corridor, staying low for some reason. No one would catch me, of course, but it just fit the mental idea of being sneaky.

I got to Ryan's door, seeing the glow of light spilling out from underneath, and tried the handle. It opened, easily, and I pushed it inwards, revealing a scene of depravity.

Ryan had his ginger-cheerleader-nympho bent over the edge of his bed, her face frozen in a moment of bliss. Her eyes were closed, mouth wide open in a classic O, with her hands pulled behind her back and her hair in a braid. Ryan's fist was around the end of the braid, pulling her head back and up, while his other was pressing her hands into the small of her back. Her backside was red-raw, the clean white bedding under them a mess, and her feet were planted on the floor, either side of Ryan's own feet.

Ryan - now he was a sight to behold. I realised, as I saw him naked for the first time, that I had never even seen him topless before. His chest was lean, if not incredibly 'muscly' - but that was nice. What surprised me, however, was the fact that he was quite hairy. I was taken aback - he looked like a man, as opposed to the kinda-gawky roommate I'd fantasised about once or twice.

He was red-in-the-face, mid-thrust with his hips back, his pleasant tushy pushed backwards.

For a moment, I just stood there. Dumbstruck, turned-on, and scared for my life if they somehow caught me. I felt a flash of worry, or anxiety, at the idea that the world might start up under me, that the condition might fail. That I would be caught, door wide-open behind me, invading the privacy of these two, mid-fuck.

On the back of that, I realised that I cared more about getting caught than I did about the actual invasion of privacy.

So, I pushed the door shut, letting it close silently even though it was pretty much a slam, and I got a little closer. They had a lamp on at the other side of the room, giving everything a sort-of orange glow, and the deep shadows kept a lot of them hidden. With some swallowed fear, and a resignation of in for a penny, in for a pound, I approached.

I went first to Penny's face, coming up at the side of the bed. Just to look. To see the face of the woman whose screams of joyful agony had filled so many nights for me. Her lips looked soft, even as they were stretched mid-scream, so I lifted a finger to them.

I was surprised to find she was warm - that I could feel the heat coming off her. Her mouth was wet, and I slid my finger slowly across her bottom lip, feeling the way it dragged against me.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I pulled back, Moving my attentions to where their bodies met. Behind a mess of blankets, I moved behind them. Ryan's behind, pulled back, was just grabbable, so I let my hands stroke over him as he stood, completely motionless. Unable to react, or even feel me.

I peeked over his shoulder, my gangly height giving me that option, and got a view from his perspective - and I got it. The way Penny was stretched out in front of him, his hands on her hair and body, dominating her in such an... animalistic fashion...

Fuck, this was hot.

I could feel my own wetness, growing again even though I had... satisfied myself not long ago, and figured that while I was here, I might as well get a good look at the goods.