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trulymadlysydney · 3 years

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Somewhere In Time: Nine

“The reason it hurts so much to separate is because our souls are connected. Maybe they always have been and will be. Maybe we've lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we've found each other. And maybe each time, we've been forced apart for the same reasons. That means that this goodbye is both a goodbye for the past ten thousand years and a prelude to what will come.”

-Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook

tw: Death, Loss of Parent

Previous Chapters HERE

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

April 18th, 1963, 1:32pm

It’s a warm spring day, one of the first of the year, and ten year-old Tanya Elliot is thrilled to be done with class for the day.

She steps out into the sunshine, forgoing her jacket and instead slinging it over her arm as she says her quick goodbyes to her five best friends. None of them are headed to the same destination; Sherry’s mom picks her up in the parking lot, Marcy and Jana both take the bus, Kelly walks over to the high school to meet up with her brother, and Shannon walks home-- only in the opposite direction that Tanya does.

With an agreement to meet up in their usual spot tomorrow morning before school (and Kelly’s promise to bring some extra sweets from her mother’s baking club), they set off on their separate ways. Tanya shifts her backpack to her left shoulder, and begins her fifteen minute walk home.

She takes a big deep breath of the sweet smelling air, enjoying the way the sun feels against her face. She wonders if maybe she could convince her parents to take a trip to the lake on Saturday; maybe she could work on her tan for a bit. (And besides, she wouldn’t mind seeing Willard, the older boy who lives with his family in a gorgeous house right on the water.)

Tanya stops walking and is completely knocked out of her thoughts when something-- someone-- across the playground catches her attention.

It seems to be another little girl, definitely no older than Tanya herself. Tanya finds her eyes fixated on the girl the moment she sees her. She’s beautiful, but she sticks out like a sore thumb because her clothing is not at all of this time period.

Tanya stops walking, eyeing the girl from afar. As completely out of place as she seems, she looks perfectly calm. She watches the other children, a slight smile on her face. No one seems to acknowledge her much, except for maybe a confused glance or a laugh at her appearance. She brushes off the children’s snickers (as far as Tanya can tell, she doesn’t even react at all) and continues to scan the playground as if looking for something.

The girl seems to feel Tanya’s eyes, because her soft smile only grows in intensity before she turns her eyes to meet Tanya’s gaze. It makes Tanya’s blood run cold, but it also piques her curiosity intensely.

At first, Tanya thinks she’s perhaps seeing a ghost; after all, she’s lived in this town all her life and never noticed this strange girl with the strange clothes. But at any rate, it doesn’t frighten her much, and when the young girl smiles at Tanya, Tanya thinks better of her original assumption.

Tanya glances down at her watch-- a gold watch that is much too big for her wrist-- to read the time: 2:32. Her mother will be expecting her home in fifteen minutes, and will probably start to worry should she be but a minute later.

Still, Tanya can’t shake the feeling that this girl is important. There’s something in her eyes that feels familiar and welcoming, and an overwhelming sense of magnetism radiating from her very being. Tanya knows better than to talk to strangers, of course, but this isn’t a stranger; this is another little girl. A friend, perhaps.

So she bites the bullet and makes her way across the wood-chip covered playground, without any regard as to whether the girl wants to speak to her as well.

“Are you new?” Tanya asks as she approaches, by way of introduction.

The girl smiles an all knowing smile, as if she’s been waiting for Tanya to ask “I’m Violet.”

Tanya laughs at that. “Neat. That’s not what I asked, but neat. I’m Tanya.”

“Hello Tanya.” Violet remains weirdly comfortable throughout this entire interaction, as if she’s spoken to Tanya several times before this. She nods towards her hand. “I like your ring.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not new, no. I’m from the past.”

Tanya isn’t sure she’s heard Violet correctly the minute the words leave Violet’s mouth. She blinks, waiting for Violet’s face to change to reveal that she is, in fact, joking. But her face never changes. She remains stone faced and unmoving, and it takes Tanya aback.

After a charged yet awkward silence, Tanya speaks. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I—“

“No you did,” Violet cuts her off. “You heard correctly.”

Tanya blinks dumbly back at her new friend. “I don’t…. understand…?”

Violet sighs, almost as if bothered to be explaining herself. “I travelled through time to get here here. From the past.”

Now, Tanya grows skeptical. She wonders if this is one of her friends playing a prank on her, and she glances around to see if anyone is watching her from afar and holding in their giggles. When she’s met only with complete normalcy, however, she turns back to her new friend.

“But how?” She asks. “How is that possible?”

Violet shrugs. “I don’t know. I just know that it is. Because here I am.”

Tanya, still skeptical, laughs in disbelief. “Alright” she says, “well then what year are you from?” She puts air quotations around the question, which only makes Violet laugh in a way that makes Tanya feel immature.

“I come from 1907,” Violet explains. “What year is this? 1967?”

“1963,” Tanya corrects. “But I’m sure you knew that.” She rolls her eyes. “Look, what’s the big idea? I know you’re trying to fool me, and it isn’t working.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I’m not, silly!” She says. “I’ve been working since I was small to learn how to time travel. And I finally did it!”

“Wow,” Tanya deadpans, still completely unconvinced. “How did you do it?”

Violet grins. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“To tell you the truth, Violet,” Tanya says, absentmindedly picking at the dirt under her nails, “I don’t.”

“I didn’t think so.” Violet giggles. “But if you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

Tanya glances nervously around the playground once again. She knows she’s already going to be late coming home anyway, so there’s no reason she shouldn’t stay here and talk to the odd girl. Still, she doesn’t want to push her own luck with her mother.

She shrugs. “Actually, I gotta get home,” she explains. “But if you wanna walk with me, you can.”

Violet smiles, looking more childlike than she has in their entire interaction. “Really? Gee, I’d love that!”

“Really?” Tanya smiles. “Alright. Follow me.”

The two girls fall into step, side by side, as Violet launches right into her story about time travel. This doesn’t seem to be a secret for her— in fact it seems about as common a topic as the weather for Violet— but Tanya grows slightly embarrassed at the volume of the other girl’s voice.

It’s all so strange really, how trusting Violet is of Tanya. Then again, Tanya could really say the same thing about herself. She doesn’t know what it is about the peculiar girl that causes her to trust her so much, but at any rate she enjoys her company. (Even if her story is a bit odd.)

What Tanya hadn’t anticipated, of course, was the connection and friendship she would develop with this girl. She hadn’t anticipated inviting the girl over for dinner that night, (and she hadn’t expected her mother to say yes). She hadn’t anticipated spending all of her free time with Violet, laughing and playing together and becoming the best of friends. And she definitely hadn’t anticipated that within the coming weeks, she would come to believe Violet’s story whole-heartedly, which would instill within her a deep fascination in the concept of time travel.

And more than anything, she hadn’t expected their goodbye to be so painful.

Violet had explained to her multiple times that this was the first time she’d done anything like this. She had also explained that, although she would try, there was no guarantee she would be able to come back. And although Tanya had listened and valued what her friend was saying, she hadn’t exactly believed her. She had faith that her friend was going to come back. She had faith they would be friends forever.

But when Violet disappears, on exactly the day that she’d said she would and without saying a proper goodbye to Tanya, Tanya grows desperate.

It’s why, in the years that follow, Tanya finds herself immersed in book after book, depicting time travel and its possibilities. It’s why she reaches out, through any means necessary, trying to find some way to communicate with her friend from another time. Her friend, who quickly became a soulmate best friend, who understood her in ways many others did not.

It’s why Tanya finds herself grounded for a week the summer before 7th grade because she got in a fight with a boy at school who told her time travel was bogus.

It’s why she finds herself, on the night of her fifteenth birthday party, being relentlessly teased by her friends for still being interested in time travel.

And it’s why, on April 18th, 1975, she finds herself crying on her bed after another failed time travel attempt.

Her one year-old daughter Veronica sleeps peacefully in her crib as Tanya tries, to absolutely no avail, to travel back to her friend. She wants to tell Violet all about her daughter. She wants to tell Violet that, despite the literal years that separate them, she’s always considered Violet to be her baby’s godmother. She isn’t even sure why she’s still so hung up on this whole ordeal, but in any case she’s desperate to find an answer, and to know if Violet is searching for one too.

Tanya glances out at the night sky, the skyline of New York—so hopeful and inspiring to some, but so suffocating to her— promising Violet that she will never give up.

She promises, out loud, that she will never stop trying to find her friend. In every lifetime. In every timeline. She swears she will do her best to find her.

And with a discouraged heart that she tries to ignore, Tanya goes to bed; dreaming of a world far different than her own, in which times are simpler, and her best friend lives forever.

---------------

January 9th, 1925, 8:22am

It’s a quiet, somber morning in Harry’s apartment. In the same fashion that they have for the past few mornings, Harry and Roni work side by side to prepare breakfast in the kitchen. Only this time, it’s quiet. Nearly wordless. Their kisses are dry but lingering, and it makes them both feel guilty in a way that neither can explain.

Harry fights to suppress the urge to beg Roni, at least once or twice more, to stay with him; and Roni has to hold back the tears threatening to spill at any moment because she feels entirely too overwhelmed with questions. What if she’s doing the wrong thing? What if she chose to stay? How would all of her loved ones back home manage to live? Or what if they didn’t, and Roni’s decision killed them all off? Would it be quick and painless for all her loved ones in her original timeline? Would they just all together stop existing? Would anyone even remember them?

“I don’t like this,” Harry speaks up, drawing Roni from her thoughts as they sit wordlessly at the dining table.

“Hm?” Roni doesn’t ask it because she didn’t hear what he said. Rather, she asks as a way to fill the silence that follows his words.

“I don’t like that we’re just… not saying anything. I don’t know.”

Roni sighs. “I know,” she admits. “It’s not how I wanted our last morning to go.”

Harry winces subtly at her words-- “our last morning,”-- and Roni wishes more than anything that she could take them back. But she can’t. There is no way around the inevitable any longer.

“I hate feeling like--” Harry trails off, and Roni doesn’t push him to finish the sentence.

“Like we’ve run out of things we can say?” she offers after a moment, tracing the rim of her mug with her fingers. “Me too. It kills me.”

Harry gives her only a sad smile in response, which breaks Roni’s heart even further. She wants to suggest pretending like everything is fine, of course, the same way she has every morning for the past week. But she can’t. Not anymore. The decision has been made, and she can’t change her mind now.

Unless…

“Your food is going to get cold,” Harry chuckles, and Roni glances down at the room temperature piece of toast that’s been sitting in her hand for the past five minutes. She laughs bitterly, and swallows the lump that refuses to go down in her throat.

“Sorry,” she says. “Kinda nauseous. Not in a breakfast sort of mood.”

“Well you’ll have to eat something.” Harry drums his fingers absentmindedly along the tabletop. “Got a long journey ahead of you, y’know.”

He says it with a smile, but the words only cause the lump in Roni’s throat to grow ten sizes. She knows he’s trying to be encouraging, but it hurts far, far too much. She thinks that if the pain of overthinking doesn’t kill her, the suffocating feeling in her throat surely will.

Harry notices her facial expression, and his cheeks go red. “Sorry.”

Roni’s face grows hot and her eyes go a bit foggy. She had told herself this morning that she wasn’t going to cry all day today, at least not until that evening as they were saying their final goodbyes. This vow, however, had come after a silent cry as she lay in bed watching her sleeping lover breathe softly with tousled curls and a sleepy pout on his face. She could lay with him and watch him sleep like that forever.

So she giggles half-heartedly and unconvincingly, pulling away from his loving touch and fanning at her moist eyes with her hands. “Ah!” She groans. “Sorry. I wasn’t gonna cry until—“

“Hey, hey!” Harry leans earnestly across the table, reaching forward and placing his hand comfortingly on her back. “It’s okay, honey. Listen, you’re okay. It’s okay to cry.”

“This blows,” Roni says, her words accented by a bitter laugh. “I fucking hate this.”

Harry chuckles at her words. “As do I, honey. But it’s okay.” He scratches at her spine lightly, his voice softening as he repeats his words for emphasis. “It’s going to be okay.”

Roni looks at him, no longer trying to supress the single tear rolling down her cheek. He offers her the sweetest smile in return, and she leans across the table to kiss it softly. “Angel,” she says. “You’re a fucking angel.”

It makes Harry giggle, and he pulls away to stab gently at his scrambled eggs with his fork.

“Been thinking.” He speaks a moment later around a mouthful.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Think we should make tonight special.”

“Special,” Roni scoffs. “Not quite the word I’d use for it.”

“I know,” Harry chuckles, “but it might ease the blow a bit.”

Roni rests her elbows on the table, leaning in to listen to him. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” Harry says, allowing himself a pause to swallow his food. “It’s going to be cold, so that might put a bit of a damper on the evening.”

“Because it was going to be such a lovely evening otherwise,” Roni says sarcastically, and Harry rolls his eyes at her cheekiness before continuing.

“Was thinking we could build a fire. Pack some food, maybe some candles. Extra blankets. You can wear my coat that you like.” His smile deepens. “You know. Just make tonight as pleasant as we can make it. Maybe a bit romantic. Go out with a bang, so to speak.”

Roni hesitates, trying to fight the subtle smirk threatening to form on her face. “Was that a play on words?”

“Hm?”

“You know.” Roni shifts in her seat, enjoying the playful banter that’s briefly lightening the mood. “A ‘bang.’ Like we’re gonna bang later.”

Harry laughs, an amused furrow in his brow. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“You don’t use the term banging? Like, for having sex?”

“Never heard of that, no.” Harry grins. “It’s catchy. I like it.”

“Right?” Roni raises her coffee mug to her lips. “I figured that’s what you meant.”

“Do you want to-- eh-- bang? Tonight?” Harry laughs at the phrase that feels so foreign in his own mouth, and it makes Roni giggle in spite of herself.

“I mean we don’t have to. We might be too sad to bang. We can see where the wind takes us.”

“The wind is going to take you right on back to 1999,” Harry says sadly, although his smile still lingers on his cheeks.

Roni’s smile fades, and she feels her shoulders visibly sink. “Well,” she says softly, “yeah.”

Harry chuckles. “Sorry. We’re talking in circles here, aren’t we?” He nods towards her plate. “Can I make you something else, darling?”

———————

The rest of the day feels like a strange dream, both dragging on and passing by in a blur. They make slow, quiet love on the couch, and they tease each other playfully when they both inevitably start crying. When the sun begins its natural descent, they turn on some cheerful music to try and ease their anxiety, but it doesn’t help— reminding them instead of all the fun times they’ve had together.

Harry sighs after the third record they’ve put on doesn’t do the trick. “Can I play something else?” He asks, quietly but hopefully. “It’s gonna be a bit sad, but… you know.”

Roni shrugs. “Shoot,” she offers. “Not like you can bring the mood today down any further.”

Harry chuckles. “Well…” he says, then trails off. He gives Roni’s knee a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet, padding barefoot across the carpet to switch songs.

In such a simple act, Roni finds herself particularly overwhelmed with emotion. She watches him, eyes trailing the spanse of his broad back, admiring the way his trousers cling to his pert backside and the way he stands, legs apart and with most of his weight on his right side. She wonders if he’s aware that he stands like that.

In all of her twenty-six years of living, she’s never fallen so deeply in love with the tiniest characteristics of a person before. Not until Harry. She notices everything about him, and finds every bit of it endearing— (even the way he snores in his sleep so loudly it wakes her up). These specific moments of quiet admiration hold as much weight and value in her memory as those instances of passionate love making or deep belly laughter or falling asleep in one another’s arms. It’s all so deliciously him—them— and she can’t seem to fathom continuing on in a world without him.

When the music begins, Roni’s throat feels like it’s closing in around itself. She recognizes the song instantly— it’s one he’d played for her back when she’d first gotten here. It sounds different this time, and it doesn’t take Roni long to realize that this isn’t the instrumental version she’d first heard. This time, it’s the version with lyrics; lyrics that hold a much deeper value in her heart than the first time Harry had whispered them in her ear. Roni looks at Harry, helpless, as the opening notes begin playing.

Gone is the romance that was so divine

‘Tis broken and cannot be mended

Harry joins in, stepping gently towards Roni with a sympathetic, yet understanding smile. “You must go your way, and I must go mine, but now that our love dream has ended…” Harry trails off, his eyes growing misty (though he fights hard to suppress it. “Fitting, innit?”

“Oh Harry,” Roni sighs. She rises to her feet, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her into him. They sway gently, in what could hardly be considered a waltz, and Roni tries desperately to push the anxiety in her throat down. She rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent by his neck. He holds her like he’ll never let her go.

“Remember the first time we did this?” Harry asks quietly.

“How could I forget?” Roni laughs. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Harry rests his cheek lightly on Roni’s head. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They continue to sway, hardly exchanging any words, and Roni doesn’t even realize that she’s crying (again) until she pulls away to look up at Harry and notices her tear stains against his shirt. He’s trying not to cry as well; Roni can tell by the way he refuses to look anywhere but at one spot on the wall. But when Roni kisses the corner of his chin, he softens with a chuckle, shaking his head as if he can’t believe their luck.

“I’m already missing you, bunny.”

Roni sniffs, nuzzling her face back into Harry’s chest. “I’m missing you more than you know.”

Not another word is spoken, and even after the song ends, they stand together in silence. They’re hardly swaying any longer at this point— mostly they’re just holding one another while they still can. After about five minutes, Harry audibly swallows.

“We should probably get going. It’ll be dark soon.”

His words make Roni nauseous, knowing that her time left in this humble apartment is limited now to only minutes. She stops swaying, and Harry makes no effort to let go of her. He sighs, scratching tenderly at her back. “I know,” he whispers, “I hate it, too.”

Roni tries her best to keep a brave face. “Trying to get rid of me that quick are you?” she teases. She’s delighted when she hears a genuine laugh bubble out from Harry’s mouth.

“Oh honey,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Never, never. Never in a million years.”

They remain still, holding one another in their embrace until they both become painfully aware that they really do need to get going. The process of untangling themselves from one another’s arms takes much longer than necessary, and even as they let go they immediately interlace their fingers.

“I don’t have anything to pack,” Roni admits. “You can keep my party dress from when I got here. It’s too cold for me to put it on and sit on the beach tonight. And as for the ones you bought me—“ She trails off, glancing down at the skirt of the pretty dress she’s wearing right now. “Well, you can keep those, too. Not sure how much use I’ll have for them in the year 2000.”

“You never know,” Harry jokes, trying to keep things light hearted. “Maybe there’ll be a costume party or something--”

Roni giggles, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “Harry.”

He smiles, leaning forward and kissing her nose. “I’ll pack up some snacks and a few other things we might need. A blanket maybe. You get your stones and such. And,” a crooked smile tugs on his cheek, “that coat you like.”

Roni grins, in spite of herself. “Can I wear your cap?”

“Do you want to wear my cap?”

“I want any piece of you on me that I can possibly get.”

Harry chuckles, and for a moment everything feels completely normal. “Cheeky,” he mutters, pinching her butt before turning to busy himself in the kitchen.

Roni watches him for a bit, and although he’s aware of it he doesn’t make some cheeky, embarrassed little remark requesting her to stop. She watches the way he moves around the kitchen that she’s grown so familiar with. The kitchen, so beyond tiny and cozy, connecting to the living room that has come to smell like home.

The memories they have made in this humble living room in such a short amount of time begin playing like a film in Roni’s mind. Dancing together, cooking, making lol, building puzzles; the most mundane things made to be so magical because they were done together.

Roni smiles to herself at the memory of how unpleasantly she’d treated Harry in the beginning. She feels bad, of course, but it’s humorous to think about now because she was so lost at the time.

“I’m still here!” Roni exclaims, infuriated that Harry doesn’t seem as shocked about this as she does.

“You are.” Harry nods, the scrambled eggs in the frying pan sizzling under the spatula. “Did you sleep well?”

“Harry, holy fuck, how is this happening?” Roni doesn’t dare move, as if moving is going to trap her even further. She feels like the walls are closing in on her as the full extent of the situation hits her. She hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel these feelings the night before, because she hadn’t seen this as a permanent issue. But now here she is, in a year that doesn’t even feel real, with a bastard who doesn’t even seem to care about her concerns.

Harry smiles to himself. “I don’t know, pet. Honestly, I was kind of thinking that maybe you were drunk and just forgot where you were last night.”

“I wasn’t drunk, and I didn’t forget, but thank you for completely invalidating me.” Roni huffs. Stomping across the living room and plopping down onto the most uncomfortable couch she’s ever felt in her life, she figures this is an appropriate time to just pout– especially considering that Harry isn’t going to give into her panicking. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” She props her elbows on her knees and buries her head in her hands.

“Eat some breakfast and relax,” Harry answers. “We’ll figure this out. Would you like some tea?”

Roni smiles at the memory of her first morning here, feeling overwhelmed by the complete 180 her heart has done. At the time, she’d wanted nothing more than to go home, and she hadn’t believed Harry when he’d said they would figure it out. Now that they have, she wants nothing more than to stay here.

She makes her way into Harry’s tiny bedroom, the film of her memories continuing to roll through her mind. She had found this place so odd, so minimalistic, and she’d thought Harry was a nutjob for giving up his bed for her. She remembers helping him place the fitted sheets along the mattress, and she remembers waking up early and watching people through the small window.

Her cheeks grow hot, however, as the memory of the first time they made love in this bed plays in her head.

“Don’t do this… unless you mean it.”

Roni sees the earnestness in his eyes, and she’s never been more sure of anything in her life. She brushes the tip of her nose against his before licking her lips and pulling him in for another kiss. This kiss isn’t as elaborate as it had been moments ago, but it’s sweet, and she feels all the tension in his shoulders release.

When she pulls away, she smiles, reaching up to brush a wild strand of hair off of his forehead. She nods her head.

“I mean it.”

She chuckles, running her hand along the thin duvet of the bed and making her way to the small closet. She has to say one final goodbye to her dresses-- the ones that Harry had used his last dollars to purchase for her. The ones that had felt so funny and so foreign on her the first time she’d worn them.

They hang, untouched and cold, among the few dressier shirts that Harry owns, and Roni’s heart clenches at the thought of them hanging here forevermore. She thinks perhaps Harry should give them away, maybe to Daisy— although come to think of it, these may be far too dull for Daisy taste. Maybe Harry could sell them, make a bit of extra cash. Or maybe—

“Veronica.”

Harry’s voice from the doorway startles her out of her thoughts, and she whirls around on her heel with a jump. She hadn’t realized she was crying again (although the ache behind her eyes should have been a dead giveaway), and Harry notices her tears immediately. He doesn’t go to her, he only nods sympathetically when she laughs and gives him a shrug in surrender, as if to admit “yeah, I’m crying again, so what.”

“You alright, darling?”

She takes a slow deep breath in, savoring the smell of his little place that she’s fallen so deeply in love with, and examining it one last time before nodding and turning back to him. “I’m alright,” she says with finality. “Let’s do this.”

---------------

The beach is freezing, because of course it is, and Roni and Harry shiver as they set up their blanket on the shore. Roni reminds Harry several times that he didn’t have to do all this— he didn’t even have to come with her if he didn’t want to— but he is having none of it.

Roni shivers, wearing Harry’s heavier coat and his little cap that she’s grown so fond of, and her breath comes out in a visible puff of air.

“Can you set up the snacks and the stones and such?” Harry asks. “It’s too bloody cold for me to wait any longer on starting the fire.”

Roni nods, the thought of the warm fire cheering her up. She reaches into the picnic basket and begins sorting through the various snacks they’ve decided to bring.

Harry really had thought of everything, just to add a bit of a sense of normalcy to this whole ordeal. He’d packed some leftover cold pasta salad that they’d had from the night before, along with a bottle of chocolate milk for them to share. It was adorable watching him pack, especially when he got so excited about bringing items to make “these new treats called S’mores! They’re delicious, bunny, you’ll love them!” (Roni of course hadn’t had the heart to tell him that she was more than familiar with s’mores; not when he looked so cute explaining them to her.)

He had offered to bring candles as well, but ultimately had decided against it when he realized it was a bit windy, and starting a fire was going to be difficult enough.

As if on cue, he curses under his breath, causing Roni to giggle and offer him help; which he, of course, immediately turns down. So Roni let’s him do his thing, setting up all of the various items from the picnic basket and trying not to dwell on the finality of the entire situation.

It’s about fifteen minutes later when Harry finally has a solid fire going. They eat together, chatting casually about the weather and occasionally bringing up a few of their favorite memories over the past few weeks they’ve shared. It feels strange, when they really think about it, that their time together hasn’t actually been all that long. Both agree, albeit somewhat glumly due to the circumstances, that that’s what happens when you meet your twin flame. It happens, fast and quick and colorful, and then either softens into a comfortable glow or explodes into a million pieces, leaving the flames lost until the next lifetime in which they find each other.

Neither Roni nor Harry are quite sure where exactly on that scale their situation falls.

After their meal, they work together to clean up the leftover food, shivering and subconsciously moving their bodies closer to the fire. Roni scowls realizing how little either of them ate, and she sighs, looking out onto the dark, cold ocean.

“This feels like… like the last supper. You know like, in the Bible.” Roni scowls. “And I’m the one that’s about to betray you.”

Harry chuckles. “You’re not betraying me.”

“Well that’s what it feels like.”

“Well, don’t think of it like that,” Harry says softly. “Think of it like a romantic picnic between two lovers. I mean, that’s sort of what it is, isn’t it?”

His smile breaks Roni’s heart, but she giggles in spite of herself. “I suppose,” she says, her own words tasting like bile in her mouth. Speaking at all right now feels wrong and completely foreign, and the sense of guilt that lingers in her stomach has only intensified tenfold since this morning. She knows Harry is fully aware of the situation, and that he is prepared for what is about to happen; yet she still can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s about to betray him. It’s like she’s looking in the face of an innocent puppy that she’s about to completely abandon-- shivering and helpless.

With that thought comes the terrible imagery of Harry packing all of this up once she’s gone. Harry-- alone and cold-- folding up the picnic blanket and the leftover food, walking soberly back to his apartment to sleep in his bed alone. The thought of him tracing the dent made by her head left on his pillow (since neither of them had bothered to make the bed this morning), or him smelling her dresses hanging in his closet, never to be worn again-- it’s all too much for Roni to bear. She lets out a long huffing sigh, accompanied by a gentle “for fuck’s sake.”

Harry barely looks up at her as he continues to set up all of the various snacks. “Hm?” he asks.

“Harry--” Roni’s voice is abrupt. “Am I… doing the right thing?”

Now, Harry does stop. He looks up at her from under his lashes slowly, as if waiting for her to say something else. He doesn’t press her, he only looks at her, and it makes her groan.

“You know,” she tries again, “Like… should I just stay? I don’t want to erase the people that I love from back home… and I definitely don’t want to erase my mom, but I can’t--” She breaks off, tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t lose you.”

Harry’s voice is calm when he speaks. “Do you think you’re doing the right thing?”

“That’s why I’m asking you!” Roni wails, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

“Well, bunny,” Harry stokes the fire a bit more, the embers dancing against the darkening sky, “You know I can’t make that decision for you.”

“Harry,” Roni sighs in frustration.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear,” he says slowly, a gentle but sad smile tugging on the corners of his lips, “because I don’t know what you want to hear. I don’t think you do either.”

Roni wipes at her eyes once again, only to realize that it’s in vain. The tears are thick, and are beginning to flow freely down her cheeks. Harry watches her sadly, unsure of whether or not he should move.

On the one hand, he wants to go to her. He wants to take her in his arms, kiss away her tears, beg her to stay; to be his forever. But on the other hand, he knows that what his beloved Veronica needs the most right now is someone to be strong for her. And how can he do that when he’s hurting just as much? How can he hold her in his arms and be strong for her if he knows that the minute he feels her shuddering sob into his chest, he’ll break down as well?

So he stays put, frozen in place focusing his eyes intensely on one spot of the fire. There is nothing more for him to do right now.

The sound of the ocean mixed with the crackling of the fire would be such a beautiful backdrop for a romantic evening together on any other occasion. But given the circumstances, neither Harry nor Roni are feeling very romantic at present. Roni shivers, wrapping the coat tighter around her shoulders as a bitter ocean breeze rips through her.

“I can’t lose you,” Roni repeats quietly.

“You won’t,” Harry answers. “I’ll never forget you as long as I live.” When Roni doesn’t say anything, Harry scoots just a titch closer to her. “Veronica,” he says slowly. “I will never stop trying to find you. Until the day I die, I will try. I will look for you in every corner of the earth. In every lifetime. In every timeline. I will do my best to find a way to find you. I will never, ever give up.”

Roni sniffs, reaching up to wipe at her runny nose. “And what if you can’t find me?”

Harry swallows audibly. “Well,” he says slowly. “Then. I’ll wait for you in the sky.”

Roni’s throat swells, and she blinks back a few more tears, licking away the salty remnants that remain on her lips. “I want you to find me.”

“I’ll find you,” Harry reassures her. “One way or another. I will find you.”

Roni blinks at Harry, so many words hanging on the tip of her tongue but no actual voice with which to speak them; especially because she doesn’t even know where she would begin. She lets out all of the breath in her chest, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers. “I love you, Harry Styles.”

He smiles, giving her hand a squeeze and running his thumb along the back. “I love you too, Veronica Elliot.”

After a brief moment, Roni leans across the way to press a few short pecks to Harry’s lips. When she pulls away, she sighs. “I don’t want to think about it anymore,” she says, “but I’m not sure there’s much else to focus on.”

“Tell me about your father,” Harry offers.

The proposition takes Roni by surprise, and she furrows her eyebrows at Harry. “Forreal?”

“Yeah. Heard all about your mum. Heard nothing about your father.”

Roni blows out a puff of air, wondering where she should start before giving up and shrugging. “Not much to tell.”

“You mentioned he left when you were young,” Harry prompts, “but do you remember him at all?”

Roni shakes her head. “Not at all. He was gone before I was even aware that I existed.” She laughs. “From what I’m told though, he was awful. My grandma never wanted my mom to be with him. But she was… I mean, you know, she was young. And no one really listens to their parents when they’re young. Not that young at least. She thought she was in love.”

“And him?”

Roni shrugs. “He thought she was easy. Knocked her up and poof. Gone.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Knocked her up?”

“Got her pregnant,” Roni giggles. “Nine months later he was gone but—“ she throws her arms up, a sort of ‘tah-dah’ movement, “— the real party arrived.”

Harry laughs, nodding his head. “Absolutely. The world’s biggest blessing came along. I’ll bet he’s sorry he missed it.”

“I doubt it,” Roni says, scrunching her toes into the sand. “Bet he hasn’t even spared a thought for my mom and I.”

Harry says nothing for a moment, only staring deep in thought at the fire and processing Roni’s story. The fire feels warm on his face, and it makes him a bit sleepy. He breathes in, low and slow through his nose before speaking again. “Shame.” He smiles up at Roni, admiring the way the glow of the fire hits her skin. “Can’t imagine doing something like that. As a man. As a father.”

Roni shrugs. “I can’t either. But, you know, it happens. I guess.”

“It shouldn’t.” Harry shakes his head. “I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“You think you would ever get married?” Roni doesn’t exactly realize the weight of her question until it’s slipped past her lips, and she almost regrets asking it. Harry hardly reacts, save for the flash of his dimple that Roni has grown to love so much. He averts his gaze, really giving some thought to his answer, then after a moment, he nods.

“Maybe. But at this point, m’not sure it’s really in the cards for me.”

Roni leans forward, genuine concern etched into her features. “Why not?”

Now he looks back at her from under his lashes. “You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

He smiles sadly. “Because the woman I love is leaving me to go back to her home that’s seventy-five years in the future.”

Harry’s words hit her like a ton of bricks. Not that she was really expecting another answer, of course, but god. “Harry—”

“It’s alright though. It’s the way things have to be, you know? I wouldn’t change us. I wouldn’t change what we’ve been through.” He shrugs. “I’d change the circumstances, sure. But I’d take a thousand lifetimes of this over never meeting you. So I have to take that for what it is, don’t I?”

In any other situation, Roni would be fully aware that she’s moving far too quickly. But seeing as her time left with Harry is reduced down to merely a few more hours, she doesn’t care. “I’d marry you in a heartbeat, Harry.”

His face brightens ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

Roni nods earnestly. “In a heartbeat.”

Harry squeezes her hand softly. “Perhaps in another life.”

“And for what it’s worth--” Roni chews anxiously on her cheek, then quiets her voice. “I know my mom would have loved you. You don’t know her, so that might not mean much to you, but it’s true. You’d have her blessing before you could even ask her for it.”

“That means a lot to me.” Harry’s thumb strokes absentmindedly along the back of Roni’s hand. “I would’ve loved to meet her.”

Yet another long silence falls between the two of them, and Roni shivers when a particularly chilly ocean breeze passes through them. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, and he smiles gently. “You cold?” When Roni nods, he immediately scoots over a bit. “Yeah? C’mere.”

Roni wastes no time in complying with his request, crawling over to him and making herself comfortable in his lap. He wraps his arms around her, rubbing up and down her arms and kissing softly at her cheeks. “Better?”

Roni lays her head on Harry’s shoulder, letting her eyes de-focus on the ocean. She doesn’t answer him verbally, electing only to nod and just enjoy his warmth.

There are a few minutes of silence between the two lovers, and each time Roni catches sight of the full moon, hanging bright and threatening over their heads, her stomach twists.

“Have I mentioned how badly I’m going to miss you?” Harry chuckles.

Roni can’t help but to giggle. Her eyes burn at the mere thought of more tears falling, but at this point she knows that not much can be done to stop them. “No, I don’t think you have,” she teases.

She tilts her head to kiss at his neck, sucking gently but with completely innocent intentions— until he shivers slightly, his breath audibly hitching.

Roni takes the nonverbal cue, trailing her lips gently and softly up his neck, and taking his earlobe in between her teeth. Harry groans, low in his throat.

“Bunny,” Harry says gently, “you don’t have to. If you don’t want to—“

“Who said I didn’t want to?” She peeks her tongue out from between her lips, rolling it just under this ear now. “Do you want to?”

He doesn’t answer her, he only hums, tilting his head to grant her easier access.

“One more,” she mumbles, angling her body so that she’s facing him more. “Please. Can’t leave you without a proper goodbye.”

Harry, once again, says nothing. He takes her hips in his hands and pulls her further onto his lap, angling her so that she’s straddling him now. He grins up at her, the ocean breeze whipping his curls over his eyes. “God,” he sighs, leaning up to kiss at her neck, “I love you.”

Roni hums, basking in the attention he’s giving her neck and beginning a gentle roll of her hips against his. She turns her head to catch his lips with her own, smiling against the taste of him she loves so much. As he parts his lips, tracing her own with his tongue, it feels different than all the times before. He’s kissing her the exact way she likes, but it’s sad now. Slow, as if he’s taking his time in order to remember every single detail about her lips.

There’s a wordless conversation occuring between the two of them as they lick, slow and gentle, into one another’s mouths. Roni reaches up to cup at Harry’s cheek, mindful of her cold fingertips and giggling to herself when Harry shivers at her touch. He hums, leaning further into her kiss and holding her lower back tenderly in his own.

They stay like this, just kissing and enjoying one another’s warmth, before Harry’s hands begin trailing up her back. He teases his fingertips along her neck, playing with her hair before lifting the cap gently from her head. He allows it to plop down ungracefully in the sand before guiding his hand up fully into her hair.

She can feel his fingers curling around the hair at the base of her neck before he tugs a bit, successfully pulling her head back. She moans when he attaches his lips to her pulse in her throat.

It’s sexy, yes, but he takes his time with it, inhaling her scent as he kisses up her supple skin. Her lashes flutter and she catches a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye; eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, as if he wants absolutely nothing to draw his attention away from Roni’s entire being.

Harry is more lost in his thoughts than he intends to be, but he can’t help it. He’s wanting to remember everything about Roni, her taste, her smell, every curve of her jaw and her chest. His hand scratches lovingly down her back before trailing along her sensitive sides and up to her breasts-- so tightly concealed beneath her many layers of warmth, but still so pert and delicious.

“Veronica,” he moans, low in his throat and more of sadness than of pleasure, “I love—“

“Don’t,” Roni says, her eyes burning with moisture. She lowers her head, touching her nose to his in an attempt to raise his face. “Don’t do that. Not right now.” She lets out a shuddering breath, trying to refrain from breaking down. “Please, I can’t—“

“I love you.” He is insistent, wanting her to be sure that his words are true. “I fucking love you.”

“Please,” Roni cries, her voice cracking. “I can’t—“

“We have to—“

“I know but—“

“I fucking love you.”

It’s back and forth for the next few minutes, lips ghosting one another’s and noses brushing— as if breathing one another in and out, as if trying to exist as one person. Roni feels the dampness pooling between her legs, and with every roll of her hips she can feel Harry hardening.

All too soon it becomes quick and hurried, even a bit sloppy, as Roni slips her panties down her legs and Harry works to get himself unbuttoned. It’s far too cold to fully undress themselves, they’re both aware of this, but they can’t seem to move quickly enough. She straddles his cock, and they move so quickly he misses her hole the first time. She giggles, but it’s cut short when Harry attaches his lips to her neck and sucks, guiding himself inside of her gently.

“Fuck, always so tight,” he moans immediately, “holy fuck.”

They take a moment for Roni to adjust before she sinks further down, letting out a sinful moan that echoes one of Harry’s. On any other occasion, the two would be far more mindful of their sounds, considering the fact that they’re in public. But right now it doesn’t matter, especially with the way that Harry sinks his teeth into Roni’s neck, and the way she rolls her hips against his.

Roni gasps when he hits the spongy spot deep inside of her. Her head tilts back as she lets out one of the most pornographic moans she’s ever made. Harry takes this opportunity and hooks his fingers into the neckline of her dress, pulling it down and attaching his lips to the swell of her left breast. He sucks until his teeth meet her skin, and then he bites, causing her to let out a little cry. He’s marking her, and she loves it.

“Harry—“ she breathes, fingers frantically pulling at his hair.

He nips at the red little mark he’s left behind, then licks at it gently to soothe the sting. She hums, tugging at the curls on the base of his neck and shuddering, partly due to the wind and partly due to a particularly delicious thrust.

Lowering her head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, she inhales his scent, shifting her weight a bit so as to not get so easily tired out by her work. He wraps his arms impossibly tighter around her lower back, seemingly trying to get her closer to his body, and Roni groans, loudly, sinking her teeth gently into his shoulder.

She almost misses it when he lets out a soft cry.

In fact, at first she thinks she’s imagining it. But when the movement of his hips slows, and his breathing becomes more ragged than it was before, she stops moving and pulls away to look at his face.

Harry’s eyes are shut, and in the dim firelight she can make out the dampness of his cheeks. His lips are curled into a frown, and he shakes his head the minute he realizes that Roni has noticed. She stops the rolling of her hips and reaches for his face, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He’s sobbing, and he can’t even stop himself.

“Harry,” she says quietly, “Don’t--”

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Veronica.”

Now, Roni feels tears well up in her own eyes as she strokes her thumb along Harry’s cheekbone. “Don’t apologize,”’ she says through a whisper. He doesn’t even hear her as he lets out another quiet sob before speaking again.

“I love you. So so so much. I don’t know if I can do this.”

Roni doesn’t even try to stop her own tears from falling now, and she squirms a bit with Harry still inside of her. “Do what?” she whispers.

Harry shakes his head, still not looking in her eyes. “Live without you. I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

“Harry,” Roni cries, using her hand to lift Harry’s face and forcing him to look at her. “We don’t have a choice.”

He lets out a shaky breath, trying to stabilize his chest. “How can I go on when the person I love more than life isn’t isn’t with me anymore?”

Roni scans his face, feeling at a complete loss for words for the first time this evening. She shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says through a sob. “But we’re going to have to figure it out.”

“Jesus.” Harry wipes at his eyes again, pulling Roni into him and pressing a few wet kisses to her neck. He lingers for a moment with his lips to her skin, and Roni can physically feel her heart breaking in half.

“I didn’t think this was going to be so unbearable,” Harry whispers. “I knew it would be hard but… fuck.”

“Look at me,” Roni says, pulling away and trying to gently guide Harry’s face up again. She offers him the most reassuring smile she can muster, but somehow it doesn’t help. “It’s going to be okay. Hm? We’re going to be okay.”

Roni cups his cheek yet again, and Harry leans into her affectionate touch with closed eyes. She watches him, a lump in her throat so large she’s feeling nauseous, and the reality of their situation hitting her for the hundredth time this evening.

“We’re going to be okay,” she repeats. “You have to promise me you’ll keep going. Keep trying. Live your life. And maybe… in another lifetime--”

Harry cuts her off then with a kiss, passionate and gentle all at once. He allows his hands to trail down her back. He grips her hips tightly, rolling her against him and groaning low in his throat at the feeling of her walls still around his prick.

She gasps, not at all expecting to feel him as deep as she does, and they share sloppy, hurried kisses as they finish what they’d started.

It’s messy and slow, but it’s deep. They’re both crying as they move together, lips hungrily exploring whatever area of skin they can get to. Roni bites down somewhere on Harry’s neck and he hisses, knowing he’s going to have an ugly mark there when morning comes. Harry grips Roni’s hips so tightly they begin to ache, and yet she still finds herself wishing he would hold her tighter.

Minutes later, Harry cums. Roni doesn’t, but she doesn’t care. She doesn’t much feel like an orgasm right now, as strange and as out of character as that seems to her; rather, she just wants to stay like this, with the most intimate part of him tucked into the deepest, most private part of her body. She buries her face in his neck, and he wraps his arms impossibly tighter around her torso.

No words are spoken between the two lovers. No words are necessary, really. They just hold one another, the sound of the crashing waves mirroring their own inner turmoil as they hold one another and cry-- unabashedly and unfiltered.

It feels good, in a strange therapeutic sort of way, to be like this. To be crying this hard together, completely vulnerable both physically and emotionally, and as hard as it is to grasp that these are their last memories together, it lifts the tiniest bit of weight off of both of their hearts.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been sitting like this when Roni finally makes an effort to move, her sobs quieted now to a few little gasps here and there. Harry instantly misses her warmth the second she lifts off of him, and he reaches for her hand like a little boy.

Roni smiles sadly at him, giggling and offering him a pathetic shrug as if to say, “well, anyway.” She gives his hand a squeeze, running her thumb along the back of it. Her chest flutters as she takes a breath.

“You promise to try and find me?” She doesn’t anticipate her voice coming out as hoarse and as sad as it does.

Harry hates how final this feels, and he shivers-- partly from the cold, but mostly because his body is exhausted from how hard he’s been weeping and how devastated he’s been all day. Seeing Roni like this, looking at him as if he’s her only hope in the world right now, absolutely crushes him.

Truth be told, he’s not feeling optimistic about being able to find her. And if Roni’s honest, neither is she. But the prospect of reuniting some day, sooner rather than later, seems to be the last string of hope that the two can hold on to together. So for both of their sakes, they know they have to put on brave faces.

Harry raises their clasped hands to his lips, and kisses each one of Roni’s knuckles individually-- taking extra care around the mood ring on her finger. She bites her lip, and Harry knows another wave of tears is incoming. He offers her his best smile, as optimistic as he can be, and speaks.

“I promise, sweet girl. I promise.”

---

Harry wakes hours later from a restless and uncomfortable sleep when he feels a stirring beside him. He flutters his lashes open and remembers, all too quickly, the reason he’s here.

Roni sits up, stiff and dazed beside him, staring unwaveringly at the ocean with confused eyes. Harry’s heart sinks to the pit of his stomach as he realizes the inevitable— this is it.

He reaches forward to gently touch her arm but quickly decides against it, not wanting to ruin her one chance at getting home. He instead watches her with bated breath, waiting to see what she does.

“Veronica,” he whispers. “You alright, honey?”

She doesn’t respond. In fact, she doesn’t even look at him. She digs her hand into the blanket beneath them to help prop herself up and onto her feet. Harry moves with her, prepared to catch her when she stumbles a bit. He watches her intently, wondering what she’s going to do.

“Darling,” he says slowly, “Veronica… hey—“

She takes a slow step forward, hesitates, then takes another. And another. And then she’s walking towards the freezing cold waves lapping up against the shore. Harry panics. Is this how this is supposed to go?

“Veronica wait!” He speaks more urgently this time, stepping quickly to follow behind her. “Hey, wait a second, honey—”

Roni stumbles, almost in a drunken state not much different from the first time Harry ever saw her. She really is going, and he knows he shouldn’t stop her. But the waves seem violent, and it makes him more anxious than he already is.

“Veronica,” Harry chokes out, realizing now that he’s crying. “Honey, no, no, don’t go-- not like this… not yet… I’m-I’m not--”

“Let her go,” comes a voice, gentle and melodic behind Harry.

He turns around, no longer trying to conceal the tears in his eyes, and is shocked to see Violet, the mysterious and mystical fortune teller, standing there. Despite the cold, all she has wrapped around her dress is a shawl, and she doesn’t even seem fazed.

“She will be okay,” Violet continues, taking a gentle step towards him. “You have to let her go.”

“She’ll drown.” It’s the only thing Harry can think to say, but it’s not what he wants to say at all. He doesn’t really know what he wants to say at all, actually. His thoughts are running a mile a minute and his heart is aching.

Violet smiles knowingly at him. “She will not drown,” she says. “She will go peacefully back to where she belongs.”

Harry sniffs, a salty tear rolling down his cheek and getting caught in the corner of his mouth. “You promise?” He sounds pathetic, his voice thick and cracking, but he doesn’t even care.

Violet nods. “You have my word.”

Harry glances back towards Roni, who is slowly making her way further into the water. His stomach is in knots. All he wants is to run to her. Has he said everything he needed to say? He’s told her how much he loves her, but does she really know? Has he wasted his last day with her?

As if reading his mind, Violet closes the space between the two of them. She raises a comforting and gentle hand to his back, and he turns slowly back to her. “You did everything necessary.” She speaks quietly, looking straight into Harry’s eyes. “You gave her exactly what she needed. She will never forget you as long as she lives.”

Harry’s tears are flowing freely now, and his face is hot. The blanket previously wrapped around him is long forgotten on the sandy shore, but it doesn’t even matter. He welcomes the cold bitterly, and shakes his head as he watches Roni wade into the sea.

“What are you even doing here?” He asks, sounding a bit more angry than intended. “Hm? Have you been watching us?”

Violet remains calm, despite his accusations. “I just figured you might need someone here with you when the time came.” She takes a deep breath. “And I wanted to see the girl off. I’ve taken a liking to her as well.”

The two watch Roni stumble deeper into the ocean, completely unaware of her own actions. Violet hums, low in her throat. “To answer your question though, no. I wasn’t watching you. I just got here.”

“How did you know we’d be here then? And when?” Harry glances back at Roni, who is now up to her waist. She must be freezing, and Harry wants nothing more than to go to her and stop her.

“Was I not the one who told you to do this?” A bitter wind whips through Violet’s hair as she turns to face the sea as well. “I knew I would come up on you two eventually. Besides, this is the exact moment the moon is at her fullest. Of course Roni is going right now.”

Harry let’s out a pathetic and completely unintentional sob, his emotions getting the better of him as a panic attack rises in his stomach. “Fuck,” he says, then with growing intensity, “Fuck!” He kicks the sand, ignoring the resistance it gives him, then turns desperately back to Violet. “Does she know I love her? Does she know—“ He can’t catch his breath, and voice is loud. “Does she know I’m here watching her go? Jesus, I can’t—can’t do this, I- I mean I didn’t think it would be this fucking hard, Violet. Can I stop her? Fucking hell, can I stop her?!”

Violet takes a step towards Harry, who’s jaw is now trembling in synchronicity with his shaking hands. She puts a reassuring and calm hand on his shoulder. “It’s over, Harry,” she says. “You must let her go.”

Harry reaches up, running a hand through his sweaty, messy hair, glancing frantically from Roni—who is in the water up to her mid back now— back to Violet, who now seems worried about him. He lets out a wail, moving like he’s going to run to Roni, but Violet is quicker; wrapping her arms around him and holding him back.

He struggles against her a bit, eventually falling to his knees in the sand. Violet drops with him, gently holding him securely upright while comfortingly scratching at his back. She keeps a watchful eye on Roni; as does Harry, only his vision is nearly completely blurred. He wails, punching a little mound of sand beside his knees and using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. “Goddammit,” he mutters. “Fucking goddammit. This was a mistake.”

“Harry,” Violet says urgently, sounding more human than she has in the entirety of the time Harry has known her. “Listen to me, it wasn’t a mistake. I need you to breathe.”

He looks at Violet desperately, shaking his head. “I should have begged her. I could have made her stay. I fucking could have made her stay, Violet. I shouldn’t--” He gasps for air between sobs, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Yes you should have,” Violet reassures him. “This is the right thing. Think of her mother. Think of her life.”

Harry watches Roni, who is in past her neck now, and he tries to swallow down his panic. He watches her sink further and further, knowing in his logical mind that she’s completely safe. He blinks a few tears out of his eyes, his sweaty hair on his forward moving back and forth with each attempt to catch his breath, and then turns to Violet. “I love her, Violet.” His voice is desperate and pathetic, and he hates himself for it.

Violet looks as though even she herself, in all her powerful glory, wants to cry as well. She nods, wiping a tear that has made its way down to Harry’s chin. “I know you do,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

The two friends turn back to the sea, and Harry feels a sinking finality when he realizes he can no longer see Roni’s head. His breathing slows just a tick, and he lets out a shaky breath— realizing for the first time that it’s coming out in a hot cloud around his mouth. “Is she gone?” He asks quietly.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He knows the answer. His head falls, chin to chest, and he holds his face in his hands.

Violet says nothing, she only holds Harry in his desperation, breathing against him to try and subtly slow his breathing and calm him down. His sobs are heartbreaking, but they’re quieter now; less frantic. He cries until his throat feels thick and raw, and then it becomes somewhat silent. He isn’t sure how long he’s been there, and he almost starts to feel bad for Violet, who just sits there with him, patient as ever.

She doesn’t seem to mind, of course, she just rubs her hand up and down his back and holds him in the most comforting way she can manage.

After what feels like ages, he raises his hot, wet face to look at her. Her face is sad, but comforting. She offers him a faint, sympathetic smile.

“Will you help me?” Harry asks.

Violet cocks her head to the side. “Help you with what, Harry?”

“Look for her. Find a way. I don’t know.”

Violet’s face changes as she considers what he’s asking, taking in a deep breath and taking her time with her answer. She glances out at the ocean, which has somehow grown impossibly more calm since Roni’s disappearance. Finally, after a moment, she hums.

“You have to be prepared for any outcome, Harry.” She speaks sternly, as if to a child. “You don’t know if you have the gift—“

“I have to try.” He cuts her off, shaking his head and speaking through a throat that feels thick and raw. “I have to try.”

Violet scans his face, blinking slowly as she considers what he’s saying. “And are you prepared for what would happen should you fail?”

“I don’t care about that,” he says quickly. “I don’t care. Because what happens if I’m successful? What if I do have the gift? Hm? Then what?”

“I don’t believe it’s that simple, Harry.” Violet sighs. “I don’t get the sense that you have it.”

“But I have to try.” Harry emphasizes his words. “And if you won’t help me, then I’ll find a way myself.”

He rises to his feet and faces the sea, already beginning unbuttoning his shirt as if he’s about to undress and follow his darling Roni. Violet stands just as quickly, making her way over to him.

“Harry, Harry!” she says quickly, reaching forward to stop him. “Stop.”

He turns to Violet, and it’s the first time she notices how puffy his eyes are. She sees how determined he is, how absolutely heartbroken, and it hurts her own heart. She’s never been in love, although she’s helped many people who have been. She does understand connections like this, and although she unfortunately doesn’t get the sense that Harry is someone equipped with the gift of time travel, she knows he’s not going to give up any time soon. Not until he knows for sure.

So she sighs.

“I’ll help you,” she says. “But it’s going to take work.” She rubs his arm comfortingly. “And time. You can’t go right now.”

“But I can go? Eventually?” He looks at her with hope in his eyes, reminiscent of a small child, and it makes Violet feel for him even more.

“I can’t promise you that,” she says. “I wish I could.”

Harry looks out at the sea, one last time, then wraps Violet in his arms. It’s the first time all evening he’s reciprocated her comforting embrace, and he can feel her smile as she hugs him back.

Violet isn’t sure how long she holds him, and she knows he’s still crying by the way his back trembles every now and again. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a thankful smile. He groans and laughs at himself, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “Sorry,” he giggles, “must look a mess.”

“You look fine, darling.” Violet gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before nodding her head towards the setup previously used by him and Roni. “Come along, then. I’ll help you get this cleaned up so you can get home and get yourself a proper night’s sleep.”

---------------

There’s a buzzing in Roni’s ears, and her hands feel as though they’re vibrating. It comes after an intense, icy feeling in her veins, coursing throughout her entire being then fading all at once. She feels out of breath, but her heart is pounding slower than usual.

She’s somewhere between sleep and consciousness, and she recognizes this feeling in the back of her mind. The blackness behind her eyes somehow grows brighter and brighter with each passing second, as colorful memories flash far too quickly for her to make them out individually. At one moment, she’s a child again. At another, she’s at her mother’s funeral. And at another still, she’s graduating high school, waving out to her grandparents and Oliver in the front row. These specific instances don’t evoke any strong feelings in her one way or another, yet somewhere inside they stir something up.

A vision of herself, as an old woman, flashes behind her eyes, and although in her logical brain she knows that she isn’t old yet, she feels as though she’s lived that moment every second of every day.

The memories get brighter and brighter, buzzing loudly in her ear, and her body feels detached from her soul as she’s suddenly surrounded by nothing but white light.

Roni isn’t even sure when she’s opened her eyes, but all of her thoughts have quieted instantly. There is absolutely nothing surrounding her except white. She is completely alone, but it isn’t frightening by any means. In fact it feels rather peaceful. She presses forward, taking a step towards nothing in particular, and her legs feeling strangely weak as they carry her on.

Her heart feels heavy in her chest as she walks, beginning to regain a sense of consciousness while remaining absolutely at peace. She remembers that she’s traveling through time, yes, but why? Where is she going?

Your mind accepts this absolutely. It is 9:30am on June 16th, 1985. You have travelled back in time. Soon, you will open your eyes---

A voice that sounds familiar to her-- is it her own?-- catches her attention, and a memory comes to her mind like an electric shock. June 16th, 1985… what’s significant about that?

-into the hallway of the home you share with your mother, Tanya Rachel Elliot, and you will walk downstairs to find her cooking-

She smells something, distant and faint, but it isn’t the blueberry pancakes she hears the voice describing. Instead, it smells like… a house? A bedroom she’s familiar with. Who’s bedroom?

It comes to her quickly, her mind filling with images of Oliver, her boyfriend, at a New Year’s Eve party. The voice— her own voice— states that it’s 1985. Her conscious mind knows that it’s almost 2000.

Like a slap to the face, Roni remembers Harry. She remembers the first night she met him, when she was cold and disoriented in the streets of New York. She remembers falling in love with him, quicker than anything she’s ever experienced, and then her heart aches at the memory of leaving him. Knowing why she’s here, and how she’s going back to the modern world.

“Roni,” she hears a voice in the distance, soft and feminine and familiar, and Roni turns on her heel in her dreamlike state. She doesn’t see anyone, but she knows she recognizes that voice.

“Veronica,” it comes again, and Roni blinks in the bright light trying to find the source. Her mind is foggy, but she knows the voice. She knows she does, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.

“Veronica, darling.”

Through the fog in her eyes, she makes out a figure— far, far away, but moving towards her somewhat quickly. It’s a familiar outline, even if she can’t see the details of the person’s face. The closer she gets she realizes it’s a woman, and Roni tries to blink her eyes into some clarity.

The closer the woman gets, the more things start to make sense in Roni’s brain. The woman steps into focus, and it hits Roni like a ton of bricks.

“Mom?” She whispers, afraid that if she speaks any louder she’ll ruin any type of illusion.

The woman-- her mother-- nods gently as she comes into clear view, now only a few mere feet away from her. “It’s me, baby.”

Roni takes a moment, hardly daring to move until she can’t take it any longer. She lunges, awkwardly, running to close the gap between them and falling ungracefully into her mother’s arms.

This moment is one that she’s imagined so many times before in her life, yet she never could have dreamt how good it would feel. Her mother wraps her arms around Roni tightly, kissing her head, as Roni bawls like a baby.

“Is it really you?” Roni asks. “Are you really here?”

“I’m here, my sweet girl. I’m right here.”

Roni hardly hears her mother’s words, she just wraps her arms impossibly tighter around the older woman, as if scared that she’ll slip right from her fingers without warning. “Mom,” she sobs, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Tanya coos. “I’m with you every day.”

Tanya pulls away slightly, despite Roni’s tugging at her, and wipes Roni’s eyes with her thumbs. “Don’t cry, my love.”

Roni lets out a wet laugh, reaching up to wipe at her snotty nose with the back of her hand. She hasn’t seen her mother in fifteen years, and she knows she must look an absolute mess right now. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m just… I can’t believe it’s you.”

“I know, Peanut.” Tanya smiles a smile that is so absurdly kind; a smile that Roni loved being on the receiving end of throughout her entire childhood. “It feels so wonderful to hold you in my arms again.”

Tanya was never a crier, so Roni suspects she won’t be now in the afterlife either. Still, the look on her face tells Roni all that she needs to know, and it’s beautiful. Roni sighs, leaning into Tanya’s hold on her face and staring at her mother eagerly, as if one blink will send her vanishing away again. She reaches up to place her hand on top of her mothers, and notices Tanya’s attention briefly shift.

Tanya squints, then laughs-- a surprised, tinkling sort of noise-- as she removes her hand from Roni’s face. She takes Roni’s hand in her own then and thumbs at the mood ring on her finger. “You’ve kept my ring!”

“Of course!” Roni feels like an overly excitable little girl again, who’s about to overshare about today’s lesson after school. “Of course I did!”

“It’s pink,” Tanya observes. She smiles warmly. “It was always pink with you.”

“It was mostly pink when I was around you,” Roni says. “Oh god, mom, I have so much to tell you.”

Tanya smiles knowingly. “Tell me. I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Roni says, through a wet and tearful laugh. “I guess… I mean, first of all, where the hell am I?”

“Where do you think you are?” Tanya’s eyes sparkle mischievously, but her words only make Roni panic slightly.

“Am I… dead?”

Tanya giggles. “No, my love. You aren’t dead. You’re in the between.”

“The…. between?”

“You have been here before,” Tanya explains. “Between timelines. Between time itself. You passed through here when you first traveled back. Of course, you weren’t quite sure of what you were doing, so it may be a blur in your memory.”

Roni tries her hardest to think back to the night she arrived with Harry. It is a blur, but it comes back to her faintly. Lots of stumbling, lots of white light.

She cocks her head to the side. “Were you there that night? Or… I guess, here?”

“I was,” Tanya says, nodding. “I watched you. I tried to reach out, but whatever it was that was calling to you— a soul tie, a connection, whatever— was much stronger than I. So I did my best to just guide you to it.”

“Oh.” Roni processes her mother’s words, marveling at the fact that her twin flame connection with Harry had been that strong that she hadn’t even been able to stop here and speak to her mother. “I see.”

Tanya smiles that ever knowing smile. “Tell me about them,” she says softly.

“What?”

“The person. Your calling.” Tanya takes Roni’s hand in her own. “They must have done a number on you, baby.”

Roni sighs, unsure of where to even begin, but instantly feeling touched just by looking at her mother’s sweet face. She wants to start crying again, but she refuses to let herself. Her mother stays patient, not pressuring Roni to speak until she’s ready.

And with a deep breath, she launches right into it.

She tells her mother everything; about how she was trying to go back in time to save her, about how Harry had saved her that night, about how she tried to stay strong but ended up falling head over heels for him. It’s difficult recounting everything, especially because it feels so fresh in her own mind, and as hard as she’s working to conceal her tears, she can’t stop them from falling down her cheeks.

And Tanya only listens. Kind and understanding, Tanya listens. She doesn’t interrupt, she only nods every now and then, giving Roni the most sympathetic eyes in the world.

Roni laughs, cries, and every emotion in between as she tells her mother the entire story. And at the end of it, her mother wraps her in a comforting embrace while she tries to get her tears under control.

“My sweet girl,” Tanya coos, scratching Roni’s back comfortingly. “My sweet, brave girl.”

When Roni pulls away, confusion clouds her features. She searches her mother’s face for a wordless answer to a question she has yet to ask.

“Mom?” She says through a shaky breath, “Am I… I mean, did I do the right thing?”

Tanya brushes Roni’s hair off of her face, coming through it lovingly with her fingers. “Do you think you did?”

Roni groans. “God, you sound just like him. I just want to know if I made the right decision, but I have no way of gauging that, you know? Like how do I know?”

Tanya laughs. “To tell you the truth, my love, I really think you did. In fact, I can promise that you did.”

“But... Harry…” Roni trails off in a sigh. “I just want to know that he’ll be okay. You know?”

Tanya nods understandingly. “I know.”

“So is there… I don’t know, like, a way? For you to watch over him? I don’t know how the afterlife works.”

Tanya giggles at Roni’s words. “I’ll check in on him, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

“And can you—“ Roni sniffs, willing herself not to start sobbing again. “Can you tell him I love him?”

“You love him?” It isn’t accusatory, and her tone isn’t really all that shocked either. It’s a simple question, but Roni’s insides flip.

“I do,” she says decidedly. “So, so much.”

Tanya’s next question takes Roni by surprise. “And Oliver?”

“You know about Oliver? I didn’t start dating him until after you—“

“I know,” Tanya says calmly. “I’m with you always.”

“Oh.” Roni blows a puff of air out from her lips, reaching up to fidget with her hair. “Well. I love Oliver, but it’s not… I mean…. Harry is…” She trails off, looking helplessly at her mother, as if Tanya will be able to fill in the blanks.

Tanya only smiles. “Your twin flame. I know.”

Roni laughs in disbelief. “It’s weird, huh?” She asks. “How does that even happen?”

“How could you possibly travel back to 1925?” Tanya laughs. “Some things are not meant for us to understand, my darling.” She gives Roni’s shoulder a playful squeeze before continuing. “Anyway. I like Oliver. He’s a good kid. He takes good care of you. But Harry,” she smiles knowingly, “Harry set your soul on fire. This I know for sure.”

“I can’t help but feel like I did the wrong thing,” Roni sighs. “Even though I know I didn’t. I jst couldn’t erase you, you know? And everyone back home that I love—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. Not to me. You did the right thing.”

Roni sighs, eyes scanning the great white abyss surrounding them as she tries to figure out what on earth to say. “So now what?” She tries after a moment. “Where do I even go from here?”

“Back home,” Tanya says, a comforting hand trailing up Roni’s arm. “To live a long and full life. To grow old, and to have children of your own. To stop living in the past.” The last bit is said more pointedly, and Roni blinks through her misty eyes back at her mother.

“I’m not—“

“Veronica,” Tanya says slowly, “darling, look at all you’ve had. My god, look at all you’ve done.”

“I would trade it all to have you back, mom.” Roni reaches for her mother’s hand and squeezes. “All of it. Every bit.”

Tanya smiles. “I know, sweetheart. I know. But I am gone. You have done everything you could have done to bring me back. It was not in fate's design.”

Roni shakes her head, not wanting to believe her mother’s words but knowing she’s right. “But where do I go?” she repeats, quieter this time.

Tanya takes a big deep breath in through her nose. “I told you. You must go on and do even more incredible things with your life.” She laughs softly through her nose, and if Roni had blinked she’d have missed the moisture forming in her mother’s eyes. “I am so, so proud of who you are, Veronica.”

“I don’t want to go on without you, mom.”

“You will never have to. You never have before. I’m always going to be with you.”

“But now I have to like… go into the world again. The modern world, I mean. Knowing that I’ve seen you again, and that I’ve been in love. Real actual love. How can I just... go back?”

“You don’t have to go back, sweetheart. Not like that. You don’t have to be stuck. Life is far too short to be living it in a way that doesn’t make you happy. Do you understand? Do not let it pass you by.”

“But… but you-- and Harry--”

“Stop living in the past, Peanut. Worrying, and not allowing yourself to move forward, will never add any years to your life. It didn’t mine.”

Roni’s shoulders visibly soften, and she blinks up at her mother. She wants to take in all of her mothers advice, but mostly she just wants to drink in as much of her mother’s presence as possible. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Veronica. More than you know.”

In the distance, Roni begins to hear a soft commotion. She looks around, trying to figure out where on earth the noise could be coming from (considering that there is nothing around her except for a great white nothingness). It starts out dull, a faint buzzing that gradually grows louder. She turns back to her mother, only to be met with a sad smile.

“Our time is almost up here,” Tanya explains, and Roni’s heart begins to swell with panic.

“What? No, I’m not ready—“

“You are ready, dear. You are as ready as you’ll ever be.”

The commotion grows louder, and Roni shakes her head. “But I don’t know what to do!”

“Yes you do.” Tanya nods. “You always have.” She reaches forward and wraps Roni into a tight hug, giving her a squeeze and pressing her lips to her head. “Remember what I told you. I’ll always be with you. So will he.”

“I don’t know what to do!” Roni wails again, her puffy eyes aching with pressure as more tears begin flowing. “I don’t know where to go!”

“The answers will come,” Tanya says, pulling away from Roni slowly. “What is meant to be will be. Some things you cannot change, but what is meant to be will always find a way.”

“Why weren’t you meant to stay with me then?” Roni cries, beginning to struggle to be heard over the buzzing noise of an invisible crowd. “To watch me grow up? To help me through life? Why did you have to go?”

“Everything has a reason,” Tanya says, stepping backwards from Roni. “Some reasons, we are never meant to know.”

“Mom—“

“I love you, Peanut.” Tanya continues to step backwards from Roni, and Roni tries to lunge for her. Her legs, however, feel like molasses, as if she’s suddenly dreaming and she can’t seem to move fast enough to where she needs to be.

“Don’t go yet!” Roni calls. “I’m not ready!”

“You are ready.” Roni can barely hear her mother now, and it seems that the further she steps away from her, the louder the buzzing becomes. “Don’t forget what I’ve told you.”

“But mom—“

In a flash, Tanya seems as far away as she can possibly get. Roni panics, turning around as quickly as her legs will let her, in search for some kind of answer. A door, perhaps, or at least the source of the deafening noise she’s hearing.

She calls for her mother, feeling desperately like a child who’s lost in a supermarket. She feels hot tears rolling down her face, and she defiantly wipes them away with the back of her wrist.

“Mom!”

The noise is ringing in Roni’s ears now, and her body feels fuzzy and foreign as she looks for an answer. She raises her palms to her ears to try and drown the noise out, but she can’t— it’s too deep within her head. “Fuck,” she cries, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Veronica,” comes her mother’s voice, as clear in her head as if it were her own consciousness. “Darling.”

Roni’s chest grows heavy as she wills the noise to stop, please; and all the while images of Harry flash in her head. Her mother’s voice comes again, and is the last thing she hears before everything goes completely black.

“Open your eyes.”

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