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trulymadlysydney · 5 years ago

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Somewhere In Time: Four

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.”

― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Previous Chapters HERE

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

***Please Do Not Repost Without Permission***

12:02pm, October 5th, 1989

“Uhh, earth to Roni.”

A shrill voice followed by a few obnoxiously bubbly giggles brings fifteen year old Roni out of her own mind, and she looks up with a hot face. She uses a finger to push her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose, but she knows the voice before she even sees who it belongs to.

Lainey Prescott, one grade above Roni and just about the bane Roni’s existence.

She stands no taller than Roni, her two best friends Olivia and Janet standing on either side of her like her little minions. With their matching pink fingernails and Pom Pom hair accessories, they look like little clones. Roni has to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

This happens nearly every day during free period. They come up to bother her, get their little digs in wherever they can, and then continue walking their laps around the track because they’re “working on their figures.” Roni has tried everything to put an end to it, even going so far as to sit in the dirt under the bleachers, but they’ve always ended up finding her. So now Roni sits out in the open, expecting it almost every day and thanking her lucky stars when it doesn’t happen.

“Hi, Lainey,” she mutters.

“Hey, super cute high-waters today, Ron!” Olivia and Janet snicker behind Lainey, who looks incredibly pleased with herself. “Whatcha reading?”

Roni sticks her finger between the pages of her book to mark her place and averts her gaze, ears growing hot. “Nothing.”

Olivia speaks up. “I bet it’s another one of those sci-fi books. We all know she gets off on weird shit like that.”

Olivia’s words feel like a blow to the chest, but Roni keeps her composure and swallows around a lump in her throat. Lainey doesn’t seem to notice when she nudges Roni’s sneaker with her sandal. “No seriously, what is it? Looks cool.”

Roni looks up sheepishly. “Do you really care?”

“Totally, babe.”

Roni lets out a sigh, somehow taking the bait. “It’s called Timescape,” she explains. “It’s set in two different time periods: the sixties, and the nineties.”

“Wow,” Lainey says, “The future. So cool.”

Roni licks her lips in hesitation before continuing. “Anyway so, everything in the nineties goes wrong, and this scientist guy is trying to contact the past so that he can prevent whats happening and essentially stop it in its tracks.”

Roni hears Janet mutter an “oh my GOD, so like time traveling? ” to a ridiculously giggly Olivia, but Lainey doesn’t acknowledge them. She instead raises her eyebrows. “Wow, tell me more, Ron.”

Now Roni knows for a fact that the girls are making fun of her, and she’s about to say something when Lainey adds, “I mean, it must be super interesting. You’ve been sitting over here reading out loud to yourself. Did you know you did that?” She laughs over her shoulder with the other girls before continuing. “It’s adorbs. I’m sure any guy would find that super cute.”

“Lainey—“

Lainey cuts Roni off, as if this thought has just occurred to her. “Hey, speaking of, you don’t have a boyfriend yet, right?”

Roni sighs. “I don’t.”

You know I don’t, asshole.

Lainey giggles. “Awww, it’s okay, I figured as much. But listen, my parents are out of town this weekend and I’m throwing a party. It’s gonna be a boy-girl party, and you’re invited. I’m sure we could find you a guy there.”

“Yeah,” Janet adds, “and it’s BYOB. Bring your own Book.” Her stupid joke coaxes a cackle our of Olivia, and Roni rolls her eyes.

It wasn’t even that clever.

“Yeah, you can show us all your super cool time traveling tricks.” Olivia snickers. “Or at least spew out more time traveling facts. That’ll be a hit.”

Lainey smirks. “Totally. You should come.”

What Roni wants to do is tell them to fuck off. She wants to tackle them to the ground, rip the pom poms out of their hair and shove them down their throats until they’re all blue in the face. But she can’t do that, because there’s more of them than there is of her, and frankly they scare her.

So she clears her throat. “Guys, I don’t think—“

“Oh come on,” Janet groans. “What, do you have to ask your mommy for permission?”

Roni’s heart stops the moment the words leave her mouth, and even Lainey and Olivia shoot Janet an incredulous look, as if even they can’t believe she’s just said that.

Janet looks back at them, completely oblivious. “What?! You know she probably does.”

“Janet,” Olivia says quietly, “you know her mom died.”

Roni doesn’t know why people do that; say “died” around her like it’s a filthy word. She’s noticed that everyone does it, including her own grandmother, and it makes her feel sick to her stomach every time.

Janet’s mouth forms a wide O shape as the realization dawns on her. “Oooooohhhh. Shit. My bad. But she doesn’t care.” She turns back to Roni. “You don’t care, right? Like, you know we’re just joking around.”

Roni feels her eyes welling with tears and she wills them to stop, please stop— at least until the girls walk away.

“Please leave me alone,” is all she manages to say.

Lainey’s perfect smile returns to her face, only far more nervous than before, and Roni can tell she’s trying to do damage control. “So anyway.” She glares at Janet before smiling sweetly. “The offer still stands. You better be there, girl.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Roni mumbles at the ground, vision now completely blurred with tears.

“Sweet! Catch ya on the flip side.” Lainey waves her perfectly manicured fingers in Roni’s direction before she and her minions turn on their heels— each executing a perfect hair flip as they proceed on their way.

When she’s sure they’re out of ear shot, Roni lets out a quiet sob, reaching up to rub at her runny nose with the back of her sleeve. How girls can be so cruel, she’ll never know. But these three in particular have tormented her since elementary school, and it’s exhausting.

She doesn’t know why they do it. Why they can’t just leave her alone. She’d never spoken a word to any of them before it began, always minded her own business, and still they were relentless. Even after her mother passed, they kept it going. In fact, it almost seemed to get worse.

But Roni is not about to let them see her cry. Not today. So she stands, flings her backpack over her shoulder, and walks off.

She doesn’t have a destination in mind, all she knows is that she needs to get far enough away from them as possible— even if that means hiding out in the girl’s bathroom until the end of free period (Which she’s also tried doing before. It didn’t work. They always found her).

She makes her way back into the building, heading straight for her locker. The halls are surprisingly quiet, which doesn’t surprise Roni. It’s a gorgeous day out. That was the whole reason she was even outside in the first place. But then Lainey and her friends had to go ruin it, and now Roni isn’t even sure what else to do except grab some things from her locker and wander aimlessly for the next thirty minutes.

Roni rounds the corner and nearly bumps into someone exiting the boy’s bathroom. She’s about to say something snarky when she realizes who it is.

Staring back at her with an apologetic smile lighting up his entire face, is Oliver Ward.

Oliver is one of her friends, she guesses. A grade older than her, he’s not exactly considered popular but he has more friends in general than Roni does. She doesn’t talk to him as much as she should, despite the fact that he’s always treated her with more kindness than most people at this school. He softens once he recognizes the person he’d nearly taken out.

“Roni! Hey!”

Roni reaches up to wipe at her nose and half-heartedly reciprocates his smile. “Hey.” It comes out rather unenthusiastically, and she diverts her gaze from his. She doesn’t mean to come across as so pathetic, and she definitely doesn’t want him to know that anything is wrong. But the way his face falls when he hears her response lets her know that he is most definitely on to her.

“Have you been crying?” His question is right to the point, and it makes Roni want to start crying all over again.

“No,” she lies.

“You have,” he says, his voice softening. “What happened?”

Roni knows there’s no use lying to him, so she shrugs. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Oliver scowls. He knows what that means. “Did Lainey do something shitty again?”

Finally, Roni looks up and gives Oliver a weak nod. “I don’t know why she won’t just leave me alone,” she admits. “I leave her alone.”

“Oh, Ron,” Oliver coos. “Fuck her. Why don’t you tell someone?”

Roni shrugs again. “That would do more bad than good, Ollie, you know that.”

Oliver tries his hardest not to smile at the nickname she’s given him. Nobody’s called him Ollie since the first grade, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s always hated it. Because for some reason, when she says it, he doesn’t hate it at all.

“I dunno,” Oliver says. “It might finally put an end to her shit.” He nods his head towards her. “Where were you headed?”

Roni sniffs pathetically. “Anywhere. Just trying to kill time I guess.”

Oliver smiles. “You can come with me! I was just gonna finish up some homework in the library, so I don’t know how interesting it’s gonna be. But at least you’ll have some company!”

Roni eyes Oliver, weighing her options. On the one hand, she doesn’t want to tag along; be his little sidekick while he finishes up his work. The last thing she wants is for him to feel the need to entertain her. But on the other hand, she figures it’s better than moping around without any direction feeling sorry for herself. And besides, the way Oliver grins at her so full of hope and light, makes it hard to resist.

So Roni giggles and nods. “Okay.”

“Cool.” Oliver beams, nodding over his shoulder to signal Roni to follow him. As they begin walking, he launches right into casual conversation. “So, what’cha reading?”

Oliver is the kind of person who can hold a conversation with just about anyone and make it feel completely natural. Roni hasn’t talked to him too many times, but each time she does, she thanks her lucky stars that he’s so good at keeping conversation going because otherwise she knows they would be screwed.

However, her ego is still a bit bruised from Lainey’s words, and she’s not too keen on sharing any more information about this book with anyone else. “It’s nothing.”

“What? It looks really cool. What’s it called?”

Roni can feel her cheeks growing hot, and she refuses to look at Oliver when she answers him. “Timescape.”

“Ooooh! That sounds cool. Is it about time?” Not a hint of sarcasm is attached to his words, and although Roni can’t see his face she knows he’s genuinely interested. The thought lifts her spirits just the tiniest bit.

“Kinda,” Roni says. “It’s like, time travel stuff. Someone in the future is trying to go back and warn people in the past about like, these catastrophic events happening in the world. It’s actually really cool.”

Oliver whistles. “No kidding! That sounds rad.” They round the corner and open the large doors into the school library. Oliver lowers his voice as they make their way to a small round table with empty seats. “Think I could borrow it when you’re done?”

Roni nearly stops walking. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!” Oliver smiles at her, slinging his backpack off of his shoulders and onto the table. “Hell yeah. I’d love to read it.”

Roni realizes she’s been smiling because her cheeks ache, and she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth to hide it. She clears her throat. “I mean yeah, if you want to.”

“Sweet!” Oliver starts unloading the contents of his backpack before pausing and looking back at Roni. “I mean like, no rush or anything. Finish it on your own terms. Don’t like, freak out trying to get it to me.” Roni notices the slight red tint to the tips of Oliver’s ears, and for some reason it’s beyond endearing. She giggles, taking her seat beside Oliver.

“Don’t worry, I’m a fast reader anyway.”

Oliver smiles, seemingly relieved. “Well that’s good.”

There’s a silence that doesn’t necessarily feel awkward, but it’s charged, and now it’s Olilver’s turn to clear his throat. He turns his attention to the textbook in front of him, opening it up and flipping through to find a specific page. He effectively changes the subject, but it feels more like a bookmark has been placed on the tension that Roni just experienced. She doesn’t necessarily hate it, she’s just never felt it before. Not with Oliver Ward.

“So anyway,” he says, “Are you any good at chemistry? I’ve been stuck on this one problem for ages.”

-----

8:19am, January 2nd, 1925

Roni wakes earlier today, refreshed and optimistic after spending a good bit of the previous night dancing and laughing with Harry. She feels much more at peace and surprisingly less disappointed to wake up in 1925 than she was yesterday. In fact, she’s optimistic at the prospect of what today might hold, and she’s feeling thankful that she’s here with Harry instead of with any other guy. She does however, feel a pang of guilt at the fact that she’s made Harry spend yet another night on his couch. She decides she’s going to work something out with him; maybe they switch off the bed every other night she’s here-- for however long that may be.

With a long stretch that cracks her entire body, she rolls out of bed-- careful not to move too quickly since she’s already seeing stars. She adjusts Harry’s boxers around her waist, combing her hand through her hair and preparing herself to find Harry cooking breakfast again. Maybe she can even help him. She smiles to herself at the thought.

Roni tries not to think about last night. How good it felt being so close to Harry, and how wonderful he had smelled. She refuses to acknowledge the tension that had singed the air, the way he’d watched her and clung to her every move, and the way he’d laughed not at her, but with her. The night had been Roni’s first taste of normalcy in the past few days, and she’s beyond grateful to Harry for making that a possibility-- tension or not.

The closer to the door she gets, however, she notices she doesn’t smell or hear anything. In fact, it sounds almost completely silent in the other room. Harry hadn’t mentioned having to work today.

That’s odd.

She pushes the door open as quietly as possible , deciding that Harry must still be asleep. She doesn’t want to bother him and she figures she can sneak a shower in before he wakes up— effectively minimizing any awkward encounters that involve her in a towel.

And then she sees it.

Roni stops dead in her tracks at the sight before her. There’s Harry, splayed out and sitting so ungracefully-- legs spread wide and toes curling into the carpet beneath the pooling fabric of his trousers, and a hand wrapped tightly around his cock.

His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as his hand pumps up and down, slower towards the bottom of his shaft and more rapid jerks of his wrist the higher up he gets. When Roni hears him muttering a curse word under his breath, her blood runs cold.

She can’t help herself. It feels like a train wreck or some other disaster that she can’t help but watch. He’s so much longer than she would have guessed. Not that she’d given it any thought in the past few days, because truth be told she really hadn’t. If she’d had to guess, she probably would’ve at least been a bit generous with her assumptions, sure, but never this generous. He’s so well endowed she can’t tell if she wants to drool over it or just shake his hand and congratulate him.

The whole vision is just so… beautiful in an odd way, and Roni’s mouth waters when she spares a thought for what he must taste like.

Get it together, Roni. Fuck.

She turns to head back into the bedroom to leave him to it, but her ears perk when she hears him mutter another curse word and a few other filthy things that he would probably say if he were fucking up into someone.

No fucking way.

She’s not doing this right now. There’s no way she’s going to indulge in any of this, and she knows she really needs to close the door and get back in bed. Never mind the fact that she’d had the same idea as Harry last night once she’d gotten in bed, and had to physically stop herself from doing anything to ease the dull ache and wetness between her legs. She’d settled on squeezing her thighs together every now and then to see if that would relieve any pressure (it didn’t) and had simply gone to bed telling herself she was absolutely batshit crazy.

She wasn’t going to get herself off in this boy’s bed, and she certainly wasn’t going to entertain any crazy fever dream fantasies about him either.

But now here he is, doing the exact same thing that she’d been so tempted to do, whimpering out what sounds like maybe the filthiest dirty talk she’s ever heard, and she feels like she’s going to pass out.

Harry’s head falls back against the couch, and his eyes flutter closed as an almost inaudible sigh passes his wet lips. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mumbles. “Soaked for me, aren’t you?”

Does this happen often? Who is he thinking of? Who, in his mind, is fucking him so good that he’s practically crying alone on his couch? Roni feels a brief pang of jealousy followed by guilt and a mental slap to the face to remind herself to get it the fuck together.

Roni allows herself a few more moments to watch him tease himself, watching his swollen cock drip with his pre-cum, and she can’t help but to lick her lips when she sees the way his lips curl around his teeth. With eyebrows furrowed, Harry slaps a hand across his mouth to mute his pitiful whimpers. He’s close, and Roni decides that now is as good a time as any to go back into the bedroom and grant him his privacy.

Silently closing the door behind her, Roni lets out all of her air in one long exhale and stares at the wall opposite her. Try as she might (or might not), she can’t get the image out of her brain. How is she supposed to face him later? Is this even something she should bring up? How would she even start that conversation? And what kind of response would that warrant from him? Surely he’d think she was snooping, and probably be mad at her for invading his privacy.

Roni presses the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing the image of him getting himself off to completely exit her brain. She takes a few minutes to breathe, pacing around the room to get this strangely nervous energy out of her system, before sitting down on the bed with another long sigh. She knows she’s got no choice but to wait it out now, and for some reason it makes her anxiety a million times worse than it was before.

It’s a few minutes later when Roni hears the bathroom door close, and finally she feels brave enough to make her way back into the living room of the apartment. She moves slowly, still, as if afraid to make too much noise, and bites at her lip as she makes her way into the quiet room.

No one would ever guess that the events of a few minutes ago had even occurred. The couch looks completely untouched, the little blanket Harry’s been using at night folded up and slung neaty across the arm. The air does feel unmistakably hotter in here (or maybe that’s just Roni), but otherwise everything is perfectly still and normal.

She makes her way unsurely into the kitchen. Should she make herself at home and start cooking? It would be a nice gesture on her part, and a somewhat wordless apology for the slight invasion of privacy. Even if she wasn’t outright apologizing, it would definitely clear her conscience.

Roni reaches up to open one of the cabinets to see if there’s anything available to make for breakfast. It blows her mind that Harry doesn’t have a simple pantry in his apartment, although she’s not even sure a pantry would fit given the size of the place.

She frowns when she’s met with stacks of plates behind the cabinet door. Where the hell does Harry keep his food anyway?

The refrigerator in the corner of the kitchen is no bigger than a box, and when she opens it she’s met with even less food than she’d been expecting. Does Harry even eat?

“Oh! Morning!”

Roni turns with a start when she hears Harry’s pleasant greeting, his tone now a stark contrast to the desperate whimper it was just minutes ago. Roni’s entire body shivers at the memory.

“Hey!” she greets as normally as possible. “Morning.”

Harry walks over to pour himself a glass of water. “Sleep alright?”

“M-hm!” Does he know that she knows?

“That’s good.” Harry smiles, completely innocent. “You’re up earlier this morning. Did I wake you?”

“What?” It takes Roni a moment to realize he’s not referring to that, and she laughs nervously. “Oh, no, you’re good. Just like, my natural clock I guess.”

“You’re getting more used to being here.” Harry grins. “Wonderful.”

Roni smiles at him a tick too long, and she turns her attention to the cupboards. “Anyway,” she says, “Can I help with breakfast?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“I want to!”

“You’re a guest.”

Roni shrugs. “Not really. Not anymore. I told you I’ve gotta earn my keep around here.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head at her. “Alright.” He blows his messy morning hair off of his face and glances around the kitchen, pondering what to even suggest. “Well, I haven’t got much.”

“Eggs are fine again!” Roni suggests, before a thought pops into her mind. “Actually, got anything to make pancakes?”

Harry beams. “I think I do.”

“Perfect! Pancakes are my specialty.”

Roni and Harry set to work then, falling comfortably into step side by side as they weave their way around the kitchen. They launch immediately into conversation as they work, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic and comfortable that Roni almost forgets there’s anything abnormal about her situation. (She also temporarily forgets what she just saw on the couch minutes ago, although every time she catches a glimpse of his hand she is so painfully reminded.) They discuss buying Roni new clothes, since she is going to be here for the foreseeable future, and Roni asks several questions about what to expect when entering the roaring 20s. Harry answers her, “lots of lions” and when she doesn’t understand right away, he giggles through his explanation of, “‘Roaring.’ Get it? Sorry.”

It’s when they’re sitting at the table side by side, shoveling pancakes into their mouths, that Roni shifts topics.

“Your eye looks better!”

Harry chuckles. “It does, doesn’t it? Just got a look at it in the mirror. The swelling has gone down significantly.”

“Thank goodness,” Roni nods. “We have to be looking our best tonight, after all. We’re still on for dancing?”

Harry smiles around his glass of milk as he sips, and there’s a brief moment where he forgets to wipe his milk mustache off in which Roni completely melts. “‘Course we are,” he says with a nod.

“What kinds of places are we going? Like are we just gonna go bar hopping? Or like… what’s the plan? What should I prepare for? Should I wear comfy shoes?”

Harry makes a face, not answering her right away. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He takes another sip of milk, and now Roni is wondering if she’s said something wrong, because his entire demeanor shifts. “What? Is that not how it works here?”

Harry won’t even look at her, but the smile on his face hardly falters-- if anything it just looks a bit more regretful. “No,” he says. “It’s not that.”

Roni frowns. “Well, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to! We can just--”

“It isn’t that either.” Harry finally looks at Roni with embarrassment. He hesitates to speak, until she presses him with a look. He sighs. “Veronica, I have to tell you something.”

Roni hates those words. Any time someone has said something to her along those lines, it is almost always followed by bad news. She leans closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t have enough money… to take you to several places. I can only afford one, and it’s only because I know the guy who owns it.”

Roni still doesn’t understand, so she shakes her head and places her hand on Harry’s arm reassuringly. “Harry, that’s not a big deal, I don’t mind if--”

“No, listen. Please. I have to tell you this because it’s gone on for too long, and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to hide it from you.”

Roni swallows, preparing herself for the worst. Harry’s got a wife and child living somewhere else that he has to support, and they don’t know about this apartment. Harry is sick and dying and only has enough money to pay his medical bills for the next couple of months until he shrivels away. Harry has--

“I don’t have a job.”

Oh.

Roni blinks back at him, trying to find the proper words to go about responding to him. She isn’t mad by any means, but he’s looking at her like she should be. His cheeks burn red, and his skin under Roni’s hand feels hot to the touch. He licks his lips, raising his eyebrows expectantly at her, and she realizes she’s just been sitting here with her mouth open. She shakes her head, and speaks with as much gentleness as she can conjure up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t think I anticipated you being here as long as you are-- which, I’m so happy that you are, by the way-- so I didn’t think it would come up. And now I want to take you out and buy you clothes, and I still very much intend to do that, because I do have money left over for that. But I just can’t do it to the extent that I would like to. And it’s awful, because I really would love to show you around, take you to several dance places, etcetera etcetera, but…. I can’t.”

The amount of sadness in Harry’s eyes makes Roni’s heart feel heavy, and she gives his arm a squeeze. “Harry,” she sighs.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Of course I’m not disappointed. If anything, I’m disappointed in myself. I’ve been so selfish this entire time--”

“Don’t do that.”

“--But if I’d known, I could’ve helped!”

Harry chuckles, and it’s the first time in a few minutes that he seems like himself again. “How on earth could you have helped?”

“I don’t know,” Roni shrugs, “but we would’ve found a way. You’re doing so much to help me, I can’t just sit here and let that happen without returning the favor!”

“There’s no favor to return,” Harry says with a smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

Roni sits back in her chair, already brainstorming and completely ignoring his words. “Lets see,” she says, drumming her fingers along the table top. “I don’t need clothes--”

“Yes you do.” Harry snorts. “You’re practically swimming in mine.”

“Yeah but--”

Harry holds up his hand to stop her. “I’ve got that part covered, Veronica. I promise you.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Fine. One outfit--”

“Two.” Harry cuts her off again, his cheeky smile fully returning to his face. “At the very least. You need one for tonight and another for anything else.”

“But--”

“I’ve already got it all sorted. You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”

“So you’re just gonna blow the last of your money… on me?”

“Not the last of it!” Harry shrugs, then laughs when Roni scoffs. “Love, I didn’t tell you this to worry you. I’ll find another job sooner or later. I just told you so that you wouldn’t be let down when I turn out to be a rather disappointing date.”

“You’re not disappointing.” Roni frowns. “We’re gonna get you a job, alright?”

“I believe you!” Harry says, popping another piece of pancake into his mouth.

“Starting today.”

“Today?!” Harry speaks through a mouthful and swallows a bit harder than he’d intended. “No, love, today is about finding you clothes--”

“And finding you a job.” Roni grins brilliantly at him. “We’re doing both at the same time.” When Harry narrows his eyes at her, she only giggles and echoes his own words back at him. “You’re not going to persuade me otherwise.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but his dimpled smile has returned full force. He shakes his head and takes another bite. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Roni pops the ‘p’ at the end of the world before taking a sip of her milk. “So hurry up and finish breakfast. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

----

It’s three hours later when Roni and Harry find themselves downtown, after an hour of cleaning up their messes in the kitchen and Harry awkwardly explaining to Roni how the shower worked. They’d wasted no time in buying Roni the appropriate outfits, and she’d changed in the restroom at a high end cafe. (The looks she’d received were actually quite hysterical-- dressed in Harry’s clothes and entering the women’s restroom only to emerge wearing a brown dress, stockings, and brand new shoes.)

Roni’s first time stepping out of Harry’s apartment and into the daylight had been surreal. She’d felt dizzy several times, especially when comparing the shops and restaurants along the streets now to the ones of her own time. It wasn’t that she didn’t know her way around; she knew this city like the back of her hand. But seeing everything-- and everyone-- so different is a feeling unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

But now here she is, dressed the part and feeling a hundred times more confident and present than before. She and Harry had visited numerous businesses for him to apply to, and each one had given them roughly the same answer. Promises to call seemed to only crush Harry’s spirit, which Roni understood. But she’d remained as positive and enthusiastic about the entire process as she could, and now here she is-- encouraging him to just pop into one more store with her.

“What if they’re the ones that are gonna offer you a job, you know?”

“Or they’ll just promise to call me,” Harry says with a shrug. “You know how those things work. They promise to call and they never do.”

Roni is about to launch into an entire spiel about how Harry is only going to attract what he puts out there and he shouldn’t be going into this with a negative attitude, when something catches her eye.

“Oh my god.”

She stops dead in her tracks, and it takes Harry a moment to notice she isn’t behind him. He turns to see Roni staring in disbelief at one of the little shops along the strip. He follows her gaze to understand what she’s so struck by, but it only confuses him more. “What, the tobacco place?”

“No, the book store.” Roni feels like crying and she doesn’t even know why. It’s not a particularly emotional moment by any means, but it’s strange and surreal and the only thing her body can think to do with all of the unusual feelings she’s feeling is to expel them through tears.

She doesn’t end up crying, not really, but she does have to blink the mist out of her eyes to make sure she isn’t seeing anything.

The sign above the book shop is the same one she’d gotten so used to seeing nearly every day of her life in the 90s, but now it’s got a fresh coat of paint and it’s bright and shiny rather than weathered with time. It reads, loud and proud in white paint: The Little Read Book, and Roni laughs in disbelief.

If Roni remembers correctly, the shop was opened in 1920-- which technically is five years ago-- by Eileen’s grandmother, and Roni realizes that that means Eileen isn’t born yet, and won’t be for another ten years.

“Harry,” Roni says quietly to a patient Harry who’s been waiting for her to say something, “I work there.”

“What?” Harry scoffs, glancing from the shop to Roni’s awe-stricken face. “What on earth do you-- oh.” It finally dawns on Harry, only now he isn’t sure at all what the proper way to respond to this situation would be. He clears his throat. “You don’t say? Well, that’s interesting.”

Without thinking, Roni grabs Harry’s hand and yanks him with her as she makes her way to the shop. “We have to go in,” she says, completely unaware of the way Harry is blushing at her small hand in his.

A familiar bell rings the moment Roni opens the door, and out of habit she wants to call out a greeting to Eileen. The shop smells exactly the same, and it’s organized almost identically to the way it looks in the 90s. The difference is on the walls- there are significantly less photographs covering them, and the ones that are tacked to the green wallpaper are fresh and not yellowed with age.

A few customers walk among the shelves, talking quietly to themselves, and faint jazz music plays from the radio behind the front desk. The radio is still there in Roni’s time, but it has long since stopped working, and seeing it in all its glory is something so surreal that Roni gets dizzy all over again.

“May I help you?”

Roni turns her attention to a girl much younger than her rounding the corner carrying an armful of books. Roni’s knee-jerk reaction is to go help the girl but she refrains-- reminding herself that she does not, in fact, work here at the moment.

The girl plops the pile onto the desk and Roni gets a glimpse of her nametag. It reads “Daisy” in a plain blue font, and Roni wracks her brain trying to remember if she’s ever heard this name before and if this person holds any significance in Eileen’s life.

It’s Harry who speaks first. “Hi, I was wondering if you had any available positions open?”

The question takes both Daisy and Roni by surprise, and Roni can’t stop her jaw from falling practically on the floor. Of course it makes sense for him to work here, and she wishes she’d come up with the idea herself. She’d been so shocked to see this place in the context it’s in now, that she’d forgotten all about the task at hand. A pang of guilt strikes her belly for a brief moment.

Daisy blinks back surprise, a pleasant smile growing on her face. “Really?”

“Yes ma’am.” Harry beams, “I’m looking to start as soon as possible.”

Daisy eyes Harry for a moment, stopping briefly on his still faint-purple eye, before leaning against the counter and grinning. “What’s your name?”

“Harry,” he replies, holding out his hand. “Styles.”

Daisy shakes his hand with a smile before turning expectantly to Roni, and now Roni suddenly feels put on the spot.

“Uh,” she stammers, reaching to shake Daisy’s hand. “I’m Roni.”

Daisy makes a face, cocking her head to one side. “As in Ronald?”

Harry snorts, and Roni sighs. “No, Veronica. Sorry, I should’ve been more clear.”

“No!” Daisy says, “It’s just a unique name. I’ve never heard anything like that before. I like it. Are you interested in a position as well?” Her bright beautiful smile returns back to her face, and it’s the first time that Roni’s really looked closely. She can clearly see the almost chilling resemblance to Eileen now, and it makes her feel woozy.

It takes everything in Roni not to explain the situation, but how would she even start?

Actually, I do work here, but not right now-- seventy-four years into the future, and I can give you my official employee reference for you to hire Harry!

Roni sees Harry smirking at her as if he’s thinking the same thing she is, and she giggles nervously. “No. Thank you though.”

“Alright, but if you change your mind, I’m always hiring!” Daisy makes her way behind the counter to organize the books as she speaks. “My name is Daisy Hartford. I actually recently took over the business with my husband Lawrence. My mother opened the shop five years ago, but she gave the business to us when we got married last summer.”

Roni tunes Daisy out as she comes to the realization that Daisy is Eileen’s mother. It feels so strange to see this young girl, likely no older than nineteen, running a business that Roni knows by heart, and speaking of her mother and her husband so candidly. She doesn’t know that she’s going to have four children, and that one of them is going to be Eileen. She doesn’t know that Eileen is going to take over the shop one day. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know that the shop is going to make it another seventy-four plus years. She doesn’t know any of this-- but Roni does.

Daisy continues rambling, bringing Roni out of her thoughts. “I love it, but I could use all the help I can get. Especially once we start having little ones running around, do you know what I mean? I’m sure the two of you understand.”

Harry’s smirk only deepens while Roni feels her face is on fire. Her voice is so quiet that even she has a hard time hearing herself. “Oh, we’re not--”

“Well” Daisy unintentionally cuts Roni off, smiling sweetly. “I’m sure I don’t need to bore you with my story.” She turns to Harry with a pointed look. “Mr. Styles. Have you any experience working with books?”

Roni can almost hear the panic bells going off in Harry’s head, but his exterior remains cool and collected. “I do not,” he says, “But I am a fast learner.”

“Excellent.” Daisy flips nonchalantly through a book before setting it aside. “And your current employer is whom?”

Harry swallows, his ego clearly slightly bruised. He fidgets with his fingers when he talks, drawing Roni’s attention to the fact that even she’s fidgeting with her ring out of pure nervousness. “I don’t have one, ma’am. But my previous employer was Milton and Sons. I made shoes.”

“Oh, how funny! I’ve got a pair of Miltons on right now!” Daisy kicks out her leg a bit to show off her shoes, and it makes both Roni and Harry giggle.

“Those are quite nice,” Harry says. “I’ll bet I made them.”

“I’ll bet you did!” Daisy beams, before realizing that this is still a job interview-- albeit a very lax one. She clears her throat and settles herself down. “Alright, alright. Next question. Why The Little Read Book?”

It’s another one of those moments where Roni wants to jump in, and Harry can see her internal struggle. “Well,” he says slowly, “A dear friend of mine recommended this place.”

“Did he? What’s his name?”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Ronald.”

Roni nearly chokes, but Harry remains completely serious as Daisy thinks long and hard. “Ronald…. Mr. Whitley? He comes in here quite often.”

“Maybe,” Harry says with a shrug. “I’ve never caught his last name before. But in any case, Ronald has been coming here for years now. He speaks very highly of this place. Says it feels like home to him. And I can see why. You’ve got a remarkable business here, Mrs. Hartford.”

Daisy beams. “Thank you! That’s lovely to hear.”

After a few more questions that almost all lead into a conversation of some sort, Roni, Daisy, and Harry feel like three chums just hanging out and having a chat. Which was something Eileen had constantly told Roni about Daisy.

“My mother could befriend a rock if you gave her enough time,” Eileen would say. “She would hold conversation with just about anyone. Everybody loved her, and with good reason.”

Now that she’s meeting her, Roni would have to agree.

“Well, Mr. Styles,” Daisy says through a sigh. “I suppose I’ve just got one question left for you, and it’s the most important one.”

Harry nods. “Shoot.”

“When can you start?”

Roni can tell that Harry wants to leap up in the air and celebrate. She knows how much this means to him and, frankly, she’s feeling the exact same way. She beams at Harry, expectantly awaiting his answer. While he remains as calm as possible, there is no denying the dimple on his cheek showing just how happy he is.

“Tomorrow?” Harry raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“We’re closed tomorrow.” Roni and Daisy say this at the same time, and when Daisy shoots Roni a look of confusion, Roni fumbles over an explanation. Truth be told, it was merely force of habit. But that isn’t something she has time to explain to Daisy, so she shrugs.

“Sorry, I’ve just-- tried to come in here a few times on Saturdays and Sundays and always realized you were closed. Made that mistake too many times. Ha. Sorry.”

This is a tradition no longer kept in 1999, but Roni remembers the days when both Saturdays and Sundays were off days. In 1998 Eileen had decided to open up Saturdays for business, keeping Sundays blocked off because “I’m a God-fearing woman, Veronica.” But still, it is Roni’s knee-jerk reaction to respond the way that she just has, and she’s thankful that Daisy bought her explanation.

“Right,” Daisy giggles. “Well, in any case, Mr. Styles, are you free to start Monday around eleven?”

Harry nods. “Monday around eleven sounds great.”

“Wonderful! I can’t wait to work with you.” She turns to Roni. “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing much more of you in here, Mrs. Styles.”

Roni opens her mouth to say something but is cut off immediately by Harry taking her hand and tugging her towards the door. “Right, lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hartford. I’ll see you Monday at eleven, and not a minute later!”

The door closes behind them and they’re back outside, squinting at one another in the sunlight. Harry’s smiling like an excited little boy, and after a moment of watching him, Roni presses him with a nudge. “Well?”

“Veronica,” Harry says softly, “We fucking did it.”

It’s the first time Roni’s heard Harry (knowingly) curse in front of her, and it makes her giggle at his unfiltered excitement. She takes both of Harry’s hands in hers and squeezes, beaming up at him before just giving in and wrapping her arms around his torso. She gives him a tight squeeze and leans affectionately into him.

“Hell yeah,” she says, “We fucking did.”

----

“Harryyy,” Roni whines from the bathroom.

“Yes, love?”

Roni sighs loudly, and the noise makes Harry chuckle to himself from his spot on the couch. “You can’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“Because.” Roni opens the door a crack, barely peeking her head out to look at Harry. “I need help.”

It’s a few hours later and Harry and Roni have found themselves back at Harry’s place to freshen up for the evening. Roni had insisted she’d be fine changing in another public restroom, but Harry had refused-- saying that he needed to get changed into something “spiffier.”

The outfit Harry had bought for Roni seemed nice enough, but now that she’s actually trying to do up the buttons in the back while keeping the sash tied correctly, she’s realizing just how complicated the entire outfit is. It doesn’t help that the only bra she has is the one she’d been wearing the night she arrived, which is very modern in comparison to the rest of the dress. Try as she might, there is no way she could manage getting the buttons all done up herself. So she’d swallowed her pride, and now here she is-- pitifully asking Harry for help.

Harry looks lovely, of course, and it’s the nicest Roni has seen him dress the entire time she’s been here. He’s in a gray suit buttoned up the front, and a nice pair of leather shoes that, admittedly could use a bit of a shine but are altogether so handsome and so Harry. He completes the entire ensemble with a little gray cap on his head-- because of course he does-- and Roni suddenly feels self conscious when he looks at her.

He smiles knowingly, rising to his feet and heading towards the bathroom door. “Too advanced for you then?”

Roni pouts, stepping out of the bathroom in the half buttoned, half tied mess of a dress. “I just can’t get the buttons done,” she huffs. “And the belt won’t stay tied!”

Harry snorts, picking up the ribbon that droops around Roni’s waist. “It doesn’t go there.”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Well that would’ve been nice to know ten minutes ago.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry says through another laugh. “Turn around.”

Roni complies without thinking, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat the moment she does.

It’s the first time he’s seen a woman’s bare back in, god, he doesn’t even know how long. She’s gotten the buttons done up herself all the way to the spot just before her back dips into her bottom, and Harry subconsciously licks his lips at the involuntary thought of what lies beneath the southernmost button. The lace of her brassiere clings delicately to her back, and although Harry has seen a decent amount of brassieres in his lifetime, he’s never quite seen one this intricate. He would give anything to unlatch it and place his lips to the spot on her skin where it rested, but he knows he can’t. He knows he’s got a job to do here, and she’s waiting.

Harry doesn’t realize he’s been staring for so long until Roni speaks. “What, did I mess it up?”

“Yes” Harry says, praying that Roni doesn’t notice the audible crack in his voice. “But it’s okay. Nothing I can’t fix.”

With shaky hands Harry works to fasten the buttons up her back. Roni sighs, seemingly unaware of the way Harry trembles behind her. For some reason the fact that this is completely normal to Roni, in a time where it’s scandalous for any unwed woman to present herself to a man this way, is making this all the more sexy to him. He licks his lips, focusing on getting this done as quickly as possible so as not to make it weird, while also savoring the moment as much as he can.

He can feel the heat from her skin, and he can smell his shampoo in her hair, and he closes his eyes to allow the scent to fill his nose. Should he say something? Is he being weird by not saying anything? Can she feel how absolutely tense he is as he tries to focus on not touching her for too long? He’s completely short-circuited, and he gulps trying to come up with something to talk about.

When Harry’s finger accidentally grazes a spot on Roni’s back, she jolts, starling Harry.

“Sorry, sorry!” Harry blurts. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s just-- your hands are cold.”

“Oh.” Idiot. “Sorry.”

“No,” Roni says again. “It felt… good.”

“Oh.”

Can he say anything other than oh?

Harry watches as goosebumps prickle Roni’s skin, and he moves slower now, taking special care to brush his fingers against her back occasionally. If she said it felt good, it’s all he can do to keep her feeling that way. She swallows and audibly exhales, and the goosebumps never fade or shrink.

Harry doesn’t know why it happens this way with her. Everything is always so friendly and normal, and then the most casual and mundane thing sets him off. He knows she feels it too, because even over her shoulder he can see her eyes nervously darting around with every controlled breath she takes. She, too, looks like she wants to say something and can’t find the words, but Harry doesn’t mind. The higher he gets with her buttons, the slower he goes.

With a shaky hand, Harry reaches up to gather Roni’s hair in his hand and gently brushes it over her shoulder and out of his way. She shivers when he does this, and it makes him smile to himself. If ever he should be lucky enough to be this close to Roni again, he needs to remember that she likes to have her hair played with.

When he finally reaches the top button, he takes his time fastening it. He doesn’t realize that he and Roni are both holding their breaths until both of them let it out in a sigh. He closes his eyes briefly, willing time to stop just for moment so that he can savor this longer, but he has no time to linger on the thought before Roni is spinning around to face him.

“Does it look okay? Like seriously, do I like… fit with the times?”

She looks genuinely worried, and her eyes scan his for any sign of humor in his response.

How can Harry tell her that she looks like a dream? She looks like everything he’s ever wanted and so, so much more. Of course he’d gone a tad over his planned budget in buying her this outfit, but seeing her here, wearing it and looking like that makes it all worth it. Were dresses like this supposed to fit this way? He’s never seen a dress look so good on anybody before, and he doesn’t know how on earth to tell her that without frightening her off.

So he keeps his composure as much as he can, smiling mischievously down at her. “Not yet.”

He reaches for the tie that Roni had mislabeled a belt and, feeling bolder now, unties it from around her hips. She squirms a bit in his grasp but she isn’t smiling, not yet, and Harry realizes that fitting in is something incredibly important to her.

“Right, hold still.” Harry loops the tie around the back of Roni’s neck, brushing her hair up over it and smiling when he notices the goosebumps on her skin once again. He watches her face closely as he ties the tie in a loose knot in the middle of her chest. She won’t look at him anymore, but there’s a hint of a smile gracing her pretty lips, so he knows he’s got her where he wants her. He secures the knot and takes the two loose ends of the tie in his hands, yanking her gently closer to him.

Roni stumbles and gasps softy, before glaring up at him. “Hey, careful! I could’ve--”

She trails off when she sees the way he’s smiling at her, and she softens immediately. Her eyes hold an almost indiscernible worry, and if Harry had blinked he would’ve missed the way they darted down to his lips for just a split second.

Harry smirks. “Now you look perfect.”

Roni giggles nervously, a red tint glowing from her cheeks as she averts her gaze. She seems to come back to her senses slowly, and Harry is pleased with the effect he has on her.

“Thanks,” she says softly, stepping back and out of the circle of his arms, “For… helping me. I don’t mean to be so helpless it’s just…. You know.”

Harry nods. “I do know,” he says with a reassuring smile.” He places a hand on his belly. “I also know that my stomach has been growling for the last hour, and I’m itching to show you off on that dance floor.” He offers her his arm, grinning smugly down at her. “So. Shall we?”

---

The New York air is much colder now, and Roni leans closer to Harry for warmth as they walk. She’s significantly less afraid now that she looks the part, even going so far as to give passersby a few polite head nods and a quick “good evening!”

Harry grins down at her, squeezing her arm with his own. “You’re a proper lady now, aren’t you?”

Roni takes on her best posh accent, making Harry snort when she talks. “Well I look the part, darling, but now I’ve got to act it, haven’t I?”

Through residual giggles, Harry shakes his head. “You had me up until the accent.”

“What a shame,” Roni says, making her accent even thicker and giggling to herself. “I’ll have to work on that.”

A clocktower in the distance chimes six o’clock as Harry and Roni finally approach their destination. It’s busier than Roni had anticipated, but then again it is Friday night. This seems like the place to be, and if this is the only place Harry can take her tonight, he definitely picked a good one.

Harry talks briefly with the host at the front desk, who he’d mentioned to Roni that he was friends with, but Roni doesn’t even pay attention to anything being said. She instead takes this time to really study the place. Several round tables surround the large dance floor. If Roni remembers correctly, this building is a roller rink in her time, and it’s so strange to see it as something so drastically different now.

It’s also strange to see how many people are smoking indoors here, and Roni coughs when a woman walks by and wafts cigarette smoke into her face.

They’re seated shortly at a smaller table in the corner, and when the host returns back to his post, Harry beams at Roni. “So? What do you think?”

“It’s cute!” Roni says. “It’s weird because I’ve been here but you know, like… in the 90s.”

“Yeah? Is it pretty much the same?”

“Not at all,” Roni laughs. “I mean the big dance area kind of looks the same I guess. But it’s a huge roller rink.”

“A what?” Harry scrunches up his face, but doesn’t even give Roni a chance to answer him. “Oh, like for roller skates?”

“Yeah!”

Harry looks out at the dance floor thoughtfully. “Gee. So that area is just filled with people roller skating, huh? That’s odd to think about.”

The waiter approaches, quickly shifting both Harry and Roni’s attention. He informs them that his name is Stanley, goes over a few of the food specials for the evening, and then asks them what they’d like to drink. Harry orders a lemonade, and then both he and Stanley turn to Roni expectantly.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll take a rum and coke, please.”

If a record-scratch silence was such a thing in these times, it would have happened at that exact moment. Stanley, the people at the next table over, and even Harry all stare at her as if her order is the most scandalous thing they’ve ever heard. Roni stares back blankly, trying to gather what on earth the problem could be, before finally looking to Harry for help.

Harry catches on quickly, laughing dryly and leaning across the table to place a hand on Roni’s. “She’s joking, of course,” he says. “She’ll just have a coca-cola. Please. Thank you so much.”

Stanley lingers a moment, as if processing what just happened, before turning slowly on his heels and making his way to the kitchen.

When Harry is sure the waiter is out of earshot, he leans across the table with a serious look. “Don’t do that,” he hisses quietly.

“Do what?!” Roni asks incredulously. “Order a drink? What, are women not allowed to drink here?”

Harry chuckles. “Actually no one is.”

“What the fuck?” Roni says, biting her tongue the moment it escapes her lips because she knows she shouldn’t be cursing like that in public. Not here at least. She glances around to make sure no one heard her, then lowers her voice. “Why not?”

Harry grins smugly. “You mean to tell me the prohibition isn’t something significant in the future? Like it just… ends?”

Roni rolls her eyes. “Oh god,” she says. “The prohibition. Forgot about that.”

“Ah.” Harry nods. “So you’ve heard of it.”

Roni pouts. “Yeah, and it sucks.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry says through a laugh.

“I guess just a coke is fine though,” Roni admits. “Probably don’t need anything making me more disoriented me more than I already am.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Roni sighs, glancing around the restaurant again in another attempt to take it all in. When she catches the eye of an older lady a few tables over, she notices the woman is frowning at her, and she shifts in her seat. “Are people staring? They’re definitely staring. Did you button me up wrong?”

“I didn’t,” Harry says. “Maybe they’re staring because of how beautiful you look.”

Roni’s cheeks grow hot and she rolls her eyes, but she can’t suppress the smile on her face. “Harry--”

“I’m serious!” he says. “That dress is divine. I must say, whoever picked it for you has excellent taste.”

“Hey, I picked it out, too.” Roni sticks her tongue out at Harry.

“Maybe so,” Harry says with a shrug, “But of the two of us, I’m the one with the fashion sense here.”

Roni opens her mouth to protest, but Harry only rises to his feet and holds his hand out for her. “Anyway,” he says, “care to dance?”

At first Roni feels awkward on the crowded dance floor. Everyone around her seems so experienced, and there she is stumbling around like she’s never even heard music before in her life. She accidentally bumps into several people, and Harry always calmly apologizes for her before jumping right into the impromptu dance lesson he’s giving her. Of course she feels bad, but he’s so encouraging (and went through all the trouble to get them here), so she puts on a brave face and soldiers through it.

By about four songs in, however, Roni’s insecurities wash further and further away with every smile or word of praise Harry gives her, and suddenly it feels like they’re the only two in the entire building.

The familiar opening chords of The Charleston begin booming from the orchestra, and Harry and Roni immediately exchange open-mouthed grins. “You know this one!” Harry yells over the music, already beginning to tap his feet.

“No I don’t!” Roni giggles, already being swept off her feet by Harry.

Once again they’re laughing like children, stumbling over one another while Harry shouts incoherent commands at her.

“Remember? Left, kick, left--- Veronica, focus!”

“I can’t! Not with everyone around!”

Roni finally allows her giggles to get the best of her, letting go of Harry and hunching over to clutch her belly. Harry watches her, an endeared smile on his lips, before reaching to take her hand again. “Veronica--”

“Wait!” Roni stands up straight. “Wait, it’s my turn. Let me show you how it’s done. Ever heard of this one?”

She starts half-jumping, half- running in place and Harry lets out a loud cackle. “What on earth are you doing?”

“It’s called the running man!” Roni calls back. “All the rage where I come from!”

Harry’s face grows redder by the second from laughing so hard, and he lets out a hacking cough. “Oh my god, you look ridiculous!”

“Yeah? Like that one? How about this one?” Roni places her hands on either side of her face, framing her head and moving her hands from her cheeks to her chin and top of her head. . “This one is called Vogue-ing.”

Harry wipes at his eyes, clutching his stomach. “Veronica,” he says through a wet laugh, “Please, no more.”

“And here’s a classic!” Roni goes completely stiff, bending her arms at the elbows and moving robotically. “They call this one the robot!”

“God,” Harry shakes his head, face now beet read from laughing. “You’re so bloody weird.”

“You aren’t gonna try it with me?” Roni asks. “I try your weird dances with you!”

Harry rolls his eyes, but he knows she’s got a point. “It’s not the same.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Roni calls back. “C’mon, just try the robot one time.”

Harry glances nervously around before deciding to just completely throw caution to the wind and join her. He goes stiff as well, mimicking her movements in the most forced and uncomfortable looking way.

Now it’s her turn to laugh, and she lets out the most adorable cackle Harry thinks he’s ever heard. “Ha! You’ve got it!”

“Do I look absolutely mental?” Harry asks through a grin.

“Absolutely, babe,” Roni says with a nod.

“Good!” Harry starts moving faster, knowing damn well he isn’t doing this dance correctly at all, until Roni can’t even dance anymore. She’s nearly on the ground with how hard she’s laughing, and both she and Harry completely ignore the dirty looks from everyone around them who’s actually taking their dancing seriously.

Harry is completely out of breath by the end of the song, and he genuinely feels he’s going to be sore tomorrow.

But if it meant seeing Roni this happy and full of laughter, he’d take her out dancing every single night.

---

“So what was it like?”

Roni turns to Harry. “What?”

Roni and Harry are walking home side by side, and Roni is carrying her shoes-- even though Harry had informed her several times how filthy the ground was. When they’d finally decided to stop dancing and sit down for dinner, they’d launched immediately into conversation, covering just about any topic under the sun. Harry marvels at how easy it is to talk to Roni, and he reckons he could sit and listen to her talk about absolutely nothing for days on end.

“The moment you traveled back. I know you said it was a lucid dream of sorts, but what was it really like? Was it like you were flying?”

“No, not really,” Roni says, and she takes a moment to think of how to explain this to him. “It was just like walking. But I couldn’t walk fast enough. I wasn’t being threatened or anything. I just knew I had somewhere to go and I didn’t think I’d get there in time.”

“Where were you trying to go? You’d mentioned something about the 1980s… is that correct? Something about your mum?”

Roni smiles sadly at him. “You remember me saying that?”

“‘Course I do.” Harry notices the sadness of Roni’s features, and he lowers his voice. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” Roni says wistfully. “I wanted to go to 1985. That was the year I lost my mom. In a car accident.”

“Oh, Veronica,” Harry coos. “I’m so sorry.”

“Cars were… well, are a lot different where I come from. People drive like assholes. Pardon the language.” Harry smirks to himself. Since when does Roni feel the need to apologize for her language? He doesn’t have time to tease her, however, and he figures now is not the time. So he lets her continue.

“So mom was driving to work one morning. And this guy fell asleep at the wheel. A trucker. He’d been driving all night.” Roni seems lost in her own thoughts, and Harry hangs on her every word. “And it sucks because… it was just like any other day, you know? We just said a normal goodbye. She was planning on ordering pizza that night when she got home. I asked her to take me to the pool, and she couldn’t. She was working overtime so that she could pay for this stupid class trip for me.” Roni shakes her head bitterly, and Harry wants to say something, but he decides to let her sort through her own thoughts.

“I just thought that… maybe if I could go back to that day I could stop her, do you know what I mean? I thought I could maybe warn her not to leave. She would’ve listened to me.” Roni chuckles softly to herself. “I was always good at persuading her.”

They round the corner, beginning their ascent up the steps to Harry’s apartment. He finally speaks as he fumbles with his keys. “You know you can’t give up, right? You’ve proven that time travel is real, now it’s just a matter of perfecting the specifics.”

Roni shrugs as Harry pushes his creaky front door open for her to walk through. “I suppose,” she says, “I just don’t know if I want to risk going to another unfamiliar time period. I’m not sure anyone else would be as kind as you.”

Her words tug at Harry’s heart strings as he locks the door behind him. “Can I say something?”

Roni kicks off her shoes. “Of course.”

“I’m really glad you showed up here.” When Roni shoots Harry a look that says “don’t be cheesy,” he giggles. “I mean it! You’re somebody that I feel very, very lucky to have met. You’re an incredible person.”

“Oh stop it.” Roni and Harry make their way through the living room, while Harry begins unbuttoning his jacket and Roni fumbles to untie the neck-tie that has been itching her skin all night.

“I’m serious,” Harry says. “You’re intelligent. And witty.”

Roni smirks at him. “Alright fine, keep going.”

“And funny,” Harry adds with a pointed look. “Gosh, Veronica, no one makes me laugh as hard as you do, you know that?”

“The feeling is mutual, dude.” Roni frowns down at the knot that she still hasn’t been able to get untied, and Harry keeps talking.

“You keep me on my toes, but in the best way.” Harry wiggles out of his jacket, placing it neatly over the back of a chair. “I never know what to expect from you.”

“Good,” Roni says, distracted and still scowling at the stubborn knot. “I want to keep it that way.”

“You’re unlike any woman-- no, any person in general, I have ever met in my life. And I’ve met a lot of people, you know. You’re someone special. I feel like you were meant to come into my life, even if you came from the future. And--” Harry trails off when he notices her struggling. “Do you need help with that?”

Roni frowns up at him, finally giving up. “How tight did you tie this thing?!”

Harry laughs, making his way over to her. “Alright, c’mere. Let me see.”

It feels good to be this close to Roni again, and although they’d spent the last roughly three and a half hours dancing closely, this feels so much better. Harry feels the same nervous energy he’d felt while tying this thing, but somehow he’s more confident about it now, and he doesn’t shy away from standing so close to her.

“You can keep going on about how great I am if you want,” Roni teases.

“Oh can I?” Harry asks. “Thank you for your blessing, madam.”

“Anytime!”

Harry smiles, working at the knot gently and really searching to find the right words in his mind. “Suppose everything I’ve been saying is rather sappy, innit?”

“I don’t mind.”

Harry’s heart pounds at her words, although he isn’t exactly nervous. “Well, may I say something else sappy?”

“We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

“Fair.” Harry smiles. Admittedly, he’s got the knot figured out and could easily side the tie off with no problem. But he likes having something for his fingers to fidget with, and he definitely likes having his fingers so near her body. “On top of everything else I’ve said, you are… undoubtedly… the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Roni’s mouth falls open so subtly that Harry would have missed it if it wasn’t for the almost inaudible gasp that accompanied the movement. He doesn’t look at her eyes, he instead focuses on the knot-- which he is now halfway done with.

“Harry.”

“Pardon me if I’m being too forward, Veronica. I just think it’s high time that I let you know that. You deserve to be told that every day.”

Harry shakes the knot a bit, effectively loosening it so that it practically slides off. But he doesn’t let go of the fabric, holding it loosely on either side of her neck. He swallows and she lets out a shaky breath, eyes darting frantically along his face as if she can’t decide on a place for them to land. The mood in the room has shifted entirely just from his one confession, because they both know that his words hold so much more depth to them. He isn’t just complimenting her to fill the silence. He means it, and he means so much more by it.

“Can I say something as well?” Roni says quietly, and Harry only nods. “You’re… the most wonderful person I’ve ever known, Harry. And I wish… I wish I’d met you sooner.”

“I consider myself incredibly lucky to have met you,” Harry says. “And I... I don’t know how long you’re going to be here with me for. But I already wish I had longer with you. And I wish you were mine.”

Roni licks her lips as their eyes finally meet. They both wear looks of confusion, a bit of fear, and so much yearning that it would make Roni sick on any other day. But now she’s here, and she’s feeling something she’s honestly never felt in her life. She smiles, reaching up slowly to cup his cheek and run her thumb over the spot where his dimple lives.

“I wish that, too,” she says breathlessly.

Finally. Finally it’s the moment they’ve both been waiting for for so long. Harry tugs lightly on the tie, pulling Roni in so close that their faces are practically touching. It would be so easy for them to just do it, just tilt their heads the slightest bit and kiss already. Roni feels jittery and shaky, and Harry reaches up to take the wrist of the hand that cups his face.

They’re so close that Roni can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, and she swallows down all of the words that she’s dying to say. She licks her lips, only briefly giving in to the “what if’s” swimming around in her brain, and she removes her eyes from his swollen pink lips. She scans the dip of his cupid’s bow, the little mole on the corner of his chin, the point of his nose, and finally his green eyes that match the intensity on his face. Memories of the image she’d woken up to this morning float back into her mind,-- images of him, naked and swollen and whining-- and this time she lets them linger for a moment. Enjoying the way the sight had made her feel. Enjoying the way that that same hand feels now against her wrist.

“Harry,” Roni whispers.

Harry bumps his nose to hers, lips so close that she can practically taste them. “Yes, love?”

Roni wants to stop herself from saying what she’s about to say. More than anything she wants to give in to this boy who’s standing so close to her, she wants to fasten their lips together and taste him. She wants to kiss his neck, and she wants him to kiss hers. She wants to touch him, lick him, bury him inside of her until they pass out from exhaustion. And she wants to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again.

But instead, she says something she almost instantly regrets.

“I can’t.”

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