Time Isn't Real Pt. 02

In fact, as I looked, I suddenly became very worried she hadn't been watching me at all. That, in movement, she wouldn't have been able to see me through the rain, and that her slickness was all to do with something else.

Either way, as the pressure built, I let the world snap back into life, and I watched through the muddled glass as Lorna shuddered and dropped out of view.

And, to myself, I smiled, wondering if she had cum to the thought of me. Even if she hadn't, I knew now how her sex tasted. Call it an intrusion, but in that moment it was near impossible to care - the closure of the buddin bisexual's dream coming true was enough to justify it for me.

Besides, Lorna would never know. All she knew was that she had a great orgasm, and that it came out of nowhere. And she might have another one. Who knew.

Then, I watched as she pulled herself up, and through the rain and the glass and the distance, I could have sworn that our eyes met. Locked. A moment passed, where communication was impossible, and we stared at each other. As far as she knew, both of us had just came in unison, and now we were looking one another dead in the eye - a sign of our... inspirations aligning.

And so, with all the awkwardness of a bisexual disaster staring her crush in the face, I waved.

I fucking waved.

From across the street, I could have sworn I heard her laugh at me, the warmth in her face impossible to fake, and the dipping of her head a clear give away. Then, she looked back up, and I felt like it was two years ago, and I was back as a longing eighteen-year-old baby bi with no idea what to do. Only, this time, Lorna was looking back.

And then, she was gone. Slinking back into the dark, and out of the stream of light gifted by the streetlight, and I followed, back into my own darkness.

* * * * *

I woke to the buzzing of my phone. In the blur of early-morning half-wakefulness, for a moment I believed I was back in the flat, and the unfamiliar layout of the room made me panic - but then reality seeped in, and I remembered what had happened.

I sighed, annoyed at myself for the lust-drunk violation of Lorna, before the constant BZZ-BZZ-BZZ threatened to drive me insane and I grabbed the phone, opening it.

'Brooke?' I heard, and I recognised the voice before I even bothered to read the name at the top of the screen.

'Kloe?'

'So, were you planning on telling us you weren't coming home?'

I sighed, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. 'Sorry.'

'We were worried sick, B. Ryan thought you'd gotten yourself killed. Shannon's been locked away in her room, not talking to anyone. Fuck, I didn't know what to think.'

'You could have called yesterday,' I reminded her.

'I didn't know you were gone until this morning! Me and Ryan got up, and you... just weren't here.'

I stayed quiet for a moment. 'I'm back at my mum's.' Kloe sighed, knowing enough to know it was smarter not to give her opinion. She hated my mum, and not for no good reason, but she knew right now that saying it wouldn't help anything. 'And it's seven in the morning - I'm never up by now.'

'Eh,' she said, dismissing it. 'I wanted to wake you up, and you weren't there.'

'When?'

'About ten minutes ago.'

'So,' I laughed, 'when you said you were worried sick, you mean that you saw my bed empty and you called me?'

A pause. 'Yes.'

I laughed. 'Thanks, Kloe. I should be back today, so.'

'Nice. Let me know if, you know. You need to talk. If you're back there...'

I looked at the laptop, and held back any more information than I had to give. 'Yeah.'

'Love you,' she said, before hanging up. I dropped my phone into the bedding, and sat there for a moment, as the previous day swam back in my memory.

A knock at the door made me jump, and I watched unmoving as my mother pushed my bedroom door open. It creaked, and gave way to her peering face.

'Hey sweetheart - thought I heard you up,' she said.

I nodded, cracking my neck. 'I'll be heading back soon - thanks for giving me the, uh, the box.'

She nodded, hanging in the doorway awkwardly. 'I know we haven't had... that we're not...'

I shrugged, knowing that what she was trying to say wasn't going to do much to help anyone. 'It's okay, mum. We are who we are.'

'You were always so much more like him, and when he stopped loving me... I guess I pushed that onto you, as well. Unfairly.'

Didn't expect that.

'You were so young,' she said. 'When everything started to fall apart... he just seemed like a totally different person, overnight. He'd go from panicky and stressed, to... serene. Loving. It was horrid, the way he changed.' She saw the look on my face, and straightened. 'All I'm saying is, whatever he left you, whatever message you got from him, I hope he gave it on a good day.'

I nodded, not knowing what to say. 'Thanks.'

She tapped the doorframe, and slipped away, pulling it shut behind her. I waited a moment, before bouncing up and going to the laptop. I pulled out the USB, putting it in the box, and locking it. I paused, looking out the window, the rain from last night having left dark stains on the pavement where the sunlight hadn't reached yet, and the trees looked fresh and greener than usual today. Across the road, I saw the window of Lorna's room, and swallowed a smile. That night was, in a way, nothing. And yet, it had given me something I hadn't expected.

And, from what I'd seen, she'd enjoyed herself, too.

So, with the box under-arm, I made my way downstairs, and used my phone to book myself a bus ticket for midday. I planned to finish the USBs somewhere I would be able to ensure my privacy, and then perhaps start my own journal - seeing as the one dad left me had gone walk-about.

Plus, I still needed to have that talk with Shannon. She deserved to know the truth, even if I was planning to undo it later. For now, the Shannon that was alive right now, with the memories she had, and after what she'd been through... because of me... she deserved to know the truth. At least for now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE CONFESSION

Carrying the backpack I'd borrowed off of mum as I walked through the city towards home, I kept expecting a call from Hugo. He'd asked me to keep practicing, before calling my mum and finding out not only that I was there, but the address of where I lived normally. He knew more than he should.

And, of course, I knew why he wanted to, now. I knew the reason he had gotten close to me. But, he'd made a mistake that he didn't make with my dad - he'd gotten to me after the cut-off. As soon as I knew how to roll back time, I had decided I was going to go back to the day my father died. Start this whole thing again, without Hugo ever getting close. After all, he sent that letter to me, and had hoped for me get in touch. All I had to do was... not that.

But, I had a sneaky feeling that, if I was going to try and turn back time, even if only by a few days (as opposed to decades, as dad had managed), I was going to have to practice more with my ability. And, if that took time, I'd have to inhabit this timeline for a bit longer - which meant there was someone I needed to talk to.

'Is Shannon still not coming out?' I asked, the back on my back heavy enough to be uncomfortable.

'Not yet,' Kloe said. 'You're back in the city, then?'

'Just walking back now,' I told her.

'You want a lift?'

'Nah,' I said. 'I like the air.'

Kloe paused. 'You know, at some point, you're going to have to tell me what's going on.'

I smiled. She always knew when something was up. 'Maybe,' I said. 'Time'll tell.'

'Sure,' she said, not exactly making an effort to hide the playful doubt in her voice. 'Get home safe.'

'See you soon,' I said, before Kloe hung up.

The trip home was calm, and the fresh air was soothing to the tightness in my chest. All up until I passed the train station, in the center of town. As I passed, all I could think about was the coffee shop inside. I wondered, as I quickened my pace and took an early left turn to avoid being closer to the building than I had to be, whether Hugo was inside, coffee-in-hand, plotting how he was going to... to do what he wanted to do.

Which raised a question.

Was he planning to rape me? Or... seduce me, somehow? Maybe he would try to strike a deal. If I gave him a child, he would make it quick.

The guy was rich beyond my knowledge, and I knew him and my father, before I was born, worked together not only to figure all of this out, but to use his power to develop the capital to fund their research. At least, I figured they had done that. If he wanted to pay someone to snatch me up in the street, he could. Theoretically. And, after all, I would be able to stop, pause time and get away. Which meant he probably wouldn't do anything so brazen.

Of course, my mind also drifted to the last time I was in there - with that bitch lawyer. What I'd done to her was similar to what I'd done to Lorna, only that lawyer deserved the humiliation. With Lorna, it was more of a thank-you, in the privacy of her own room, while she herself snooped on me to watch me cum.

It wasn't long before I was home; or, at least, standing in front of the brown front door of our flat. For a minute or so, I struggled to make myself go inside, knowing that Kloe wanted to know what was going on, and Shannon knew she'd seen something no one but me could explain. Ryan, to his credit, had been a direct recipient, and yet hadn't noticed a damn thing.

Thinking about that night, with Ryan and Penny... for some reason, that was the thing that gave me the energy to go up the stone steps outside our flat, push in my key, and let myself in.

As soon as I did, I saw Kloe at the end of the hall, her eyes wide as she saw me, before her hand went to her hip and her eyebrow hitched up in that way it does.

'And where the fuck have you been?'

'...Outside?'

She nodded. 'For, like, a million years. You scared of us?'

I looked up the stairwell, knowing Shannon was up there, in her room, hiding away. 'Not you,' I said.

Kloe registered what I was saying, and turned away, making me realise that Ryan and Penny were there with her in the kitchen, all of them sharing a late-afternoon dish of ramen. Students are always students.

'What's in the bag?' Ryan asked as I started to scale the stairs.

'Drugs and porn,' I answered casually, to which he nodded and went back to his noodles.

Upstairs, there was an uneasy quiet. I knew that no one else was up here - no one except me and Shannon. My feet felt heavy on the floor, and the simple shifting of my backpack on my bag seemed louder than the street I'd only just come in from.

I hesitated outside my own room, pushing open the door enough to throw in the bag, landing it on my bed happily. After that, I passed Ryan's room, and saw Shannon's door across the way, shut fast.

The door was a blank, white-ish thing, like all of them, but it was oddly imposing. My stomach twisted, as I knew that whatever happened after this conversation, there was no going back.

I knocked twice.

Silence. No answer.

'Shannon? It's Brooke... we need to talk.'

Another silence, followed by the quiet creaking of her bedsprings. After a second or two, I heard the sound of her lock clicking open. It opened an inch, and I saw Shannon's brown eyes, soft and fearful, looking at me.

'Shannon,' I said, keeping calm despite the sense of imposing dread rising within me. 'Let me in? Please?'

She stared at me, her expression hardening for a moment. 'If I didn't, would you be able to get yourself inside anyway?'

I paused, and my hesitation seemed to answer her.

'Do it,' she said, almost hissing. 'Show me I wasn't crazy.'

'You're not crazy-'

'Then do it.'

I realised, in that moment, that she had no idea what she'd seen. She was half-convinced it was some sort of hallucination, or that she'd had a mental break. If I was a worse person, I might have followed that, and let her doubt herself into eternity.

Only, I knew that wasn't going to do her any good. And I wasn't about to do her any more harm.

So, I took a breath, closed my eyes, and did what I needed to. I brought to memory the circumstances of Shannon's discovery - Bryson, his cock, and the time I'd spent enjoying it. I remembered the smell of Shannon's wetness on my fingers, as I teased her into arousal.

The memory, while tainted, was enough for me to feel that warmth flow into me as I tapped into that piece of me the power relied on. Lust, pleasure, sensuality.

Then, I focused on those trigger words.

Time Isn't Real.

The quiet of the uneasy upstairs became completely silent. Shannon's fearful, inquisitive expression froze in place.

Carefully, I pushed the door open, brushing it past Shannon's chest as it swung inwards. I reached in, and peeled her fingers off the wood of the door so it didn't pull her over, before opening it enough to slip past her and get inside.

Once I was in, I saw the mess of Shannon's room in all of its glory. Her bed was trashed, the covers and at least two blankets strewn around a lump of pillows; her clothes were in a lump on the floor, and her own 'office' area - a small wooden desk pressed into the back corner - was covered in the remnants of takeaway food she must have gotten in last night to avoid cooking.

It was the beginnings of a depression nest. Retreating from not just her flatmates, and not just me, but from herself. Her responsibilities to herself.

Then, just as I was about to resume the world, I saw something that made me feel like I was intruding beyond the simple act of inviting myself into her room. It was there, between the folds of her bedding. A red sex-toy, still slick with her wetness.

I turned away, happy to have not seen that, and said the words.

Time Isn't Real.

Shannon sucked in a breath as she witnessed me, for the second time, vanish before her. For a moment, she held still. Not still enough, of course. Frozen within herself, not time.

Then, she turned. Her face as white as a sheet, she pushed the door shut, and looked me in the eye, a slight shake in her lip. Without a word, she crossed the room, not saying a word, before taking a seat on her small chair across from me. I copied, sitting on the end of her bed, trying not to think about what was also on the bed, behind me.

For a moment, she just... stared. I wondered if I should say something, break the silence.

'How?' she asked, taking me by surprise.

I considered trying to lie, but it seemed like we were well past that.

'I inherited it,' I told her, the truth spilling from me like red wine onto a white carpet. 'My father died two days ago, and passed it on to me.'

Shannon blinked, absorbing in, but otherwise did nothing. She just watched, and let the silence sit for a few seconds, before I felt the need to fill it.

'I... I have these trigger words, plus... well, I have to be in a certain headspace. With the... headspace, and the words, I'm able to make time... stop.'

Her eye twitched at this, and her fingers fidgeted. 'Stop?'

I nodded. 'Yeah. And, I was left some things by my father - videos. I haven't watched all of them, yet, but I can do other things, too.'

Her jaw tightened. 'Like what?'

'I can reverse time,' I said, trying to find some kind of balance between it sounding absolutely ludicrous, and pompous as fuck. 'I mean, I can't... yet. But, it's something that I am apparently able to do, with training.'

'Training?' Shannon's voice was sharp, and her eyes were suddenly filled with fury. 'Training? Is that what it was, Brooke? What happened to me - what you did to me - was that training?'

'No!' I shouted, realising straight away that it sounded defensive. So, I tried again, quieter. 'No. I was... that was...'

'Tell me,' she said, her hands gripping the chair arms, like she was physically having to hold herself down.

'That headspace?' I said, closing my eyes to avoid having to look at her. 'I have to be... aroused. Horny. Whatever. It's the mental trigger.'

Silence. I opened one eye and peeked at her, and watched as her face twisted into a strange sort of smile.

Then, she laughed.

A full, deep-belly laugh that had her almost double over as she recovered, before looking up at me, red in the face.

'That's fucked up,' she said, and I felt myself crack, too.

I let out a laugh that Shannon echoed, and within a moment we were both just hollering, wiping our eyes and taking deep breaths.

Then, after a minute or so, the room fell quiet again. Shannon looked up at me, loosened by the laughter, but with a seriousness that quickly seeped back into her eyes.

'So... what you did with Bryson...'

'I thought... I didn't know what he was like. I thought that you, and him... that you liked him. And, I wanted to nudge you towards him. And him towards you.'

Shannon looked at me, the echoes of laughter on her face. She sat back, and ran her fingers through her hair. 'I did like him,' she said, like it was an admission of some crime. 'So, I guess I was as blind to it as you.'

I nodded. 'I'm so sorry, Shannon. Without me... he wouldn't have...'

But she shook her head. 'No, it wasn't you, Brooke. It was him.' Then, like a lightbulb going off, she sat forwards. 'Hold on... afterwards, when he was suddenly outside-'

'Yeah, that was me, too,' I said. Shannon's smile reappeared on her face, and she pointed at me.

'I liked that,' she said.

'Me too,' I laughed, and she sighed. 'But it doesn't undo what I did to you.'

Shannon closed her eyes, and waved her hands like she was shaking away the fog. 'Hold on - so, how does it work? Because, to me, I was just getting, like... more and more turned on with each second. It felt like...' She paused, and her eyes locked me on. 'Did you feel me up?'

Deciding to side-step a little, I said, 'Whatever I do to people when everything is... paused, those reactions catch up afterwards. So, if I slap someone, they'd feel it when I started time again. If I hit someone a thousand times-'

'They'd feel all of it at once,' Shannon finished. I nodded. 'So. Did you? Feel me up?'

I sighed. And nodded.

'Wow,' she said. Her fingers twisted between each other. 'So... you did feel me up.'

Time to be honest. 'Shannon, I did more than that.'

She held my gaze. 'I know. Between instants, it was like... like someone was... did you...?' and she kind of hovered her hands over her chest.

I nodded.

She bit her lip, and nodded. 'And...' She pointed downwards, towards her lap. I nodded again. 'Okay.'

Shannon shifted in her chair, just adjusting her seat, and I frowned. Things felt... off.

'Shannon, what's going on?' I asked, and she sighed, her hands going to her face.

'I'm going crazy,' she said into her palms. I moved, quickly going forwards, onto my knees, to go to her.

'You're not going crazy,' I told her, my voice soft as I took one of her hands in mine. 'Shannon - this is all real. I know it's nut, but-'

'Not that,' she said, wrapping her other hand around mine, until we were just gripping each other's fingers in a mesh of attempted connection. 'It's just... since that happened, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Like, at all. I googled it, and apparently it a common response after the shock - for the brain to try and organise something painful as something... pleasurable. But, Brooke - I literally haven't been able to stop.'