TEN: NOCTURNAL

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

Iris' entire world froze right then and there.

After having been so careful—or so she thought—to be perfect, to not say the wrong thing, she'd made an amateur mistake.

Looking back on every conversation she'd had with Lyra during the present timeline, she couldn't remember hearing her mention her parents' names, and Coraline was a unique enough name to stand out as vital information. A Susan or a Mary would likely go by unnoticed, even when you were plagued with the curse of remembering so much, even the things you wished you were able to forget, but a name like Coraline and a person like Coraline Sinclair weren't things you glossed over.

Iris knew this and, much to her dismay, so did Lyra.

Even though all of the current mess was her own fault—her fault for not paying enough attention and still patting herself on the back for being so goddamn delusional, her fault for not bothering to secretly list what she should and shouldn't know, her fault for not being good enough to keep Lyra alive—part of her still mentally cursed Coraline. Why in the world couldn't she have a more common name? Why would someone named Coraline marry someone named Mike, a perfectly ordinary name?

Then again, their own daughter was anything but.

Ordinary, that is.

Even in her fury, even while standing in front of Iris like a blaze, ready to scorch everything in the vicinity, she was still the most incredible person Iris had ever met. She was wonderful and phenomenal, even with all her flaws, and Iris didn't know how to live in a world without her in it or in a world when she didn't know what it felt like to not be in love with her, but she was also so painfully average next to her.

Maybe that was why it hadn't worked out between them the first time around. Or the second. Or all the other times Iris had allowed herself to be brave enough to shoot her shot, to believe someone as mediocre as her would ever be deserving of someone like Lyra.

They were too different, both in personality and in worth, and now . . . now she had just blown it up. She'd wrecked the whole thing simply because she'd tried to overcompensate.

Even when the glint in Lyra's eyes had faded, even when she settled for a boring job she hated and muted colors that didn't suit her, Iris knew there was still some of that same old soul buried deep inside her. It was what kept her coming back to Lyra, never fully free from her magnetism, and it was when she understood what poets had said all along about souls connecting at a level far beyond human comprehension.

"I'm fairly certain I've never mentioned it to you and, trust me, I'd remember being mortified over admitting my mom's name is fucking Coraline," Lyra continued, hands balled into fists. The wind hissed like a blaring whistle around them, the distant sounds of the cars fading into the background. "Not even Caroline, no, because my grandparents had to be quirky like that. So, what's up with that, huh? How did you know her name when no one said it the whole evening? My dad has been head over heels for her since high school, obviously, so it's always honey and dear and sweetheart, but never her actual name. Go on. I want to hear what kind of bullshit excuse is going to come out of your mouth."

Iris gulped, ice spreading across her chest. "Lyra, I—"

"Don't bother lying. Just tell me the truth. You've been acting strange ever since the noodles thing, and, you know what? I let that one slide. I figured it was just a coincidence, a twist of fate. I figured you just paid attention or were a good judge of character. Call it blind faith in some . . . invisible string tying us together, or whatever, blame me for seeing you as a real one because I thought you genuinely cared about me"—guilt struck Iris right through the heart when Lyra's voice clogged and cracked—"but don't try to lie to me now. Don't try to tell me I'm overreacting or try to convince me I'm wrong about this, because I know I'm not. Who are you?"

Iris could just tell her the truth and get it over with, as it could probably help them fix things and figure out a game plan, but there were unknown rules in place—rules she wasn't sure what kind of potentially disastrous consequences would rain on her were she to break them. You couldn't defy the universe, not even for the one person you'd broken the time continuum for, and there was only so far she was allowed to go.

"I can explain," Iris whispered, lying through her teeth, and her voice was lost in the gusts of wind swirling around them. Lyra shuddered, eyes focused on something behind Iris' head, then they snapped right back to her face. "It's not a simple explanation, and I don't understand it too well myself—"

"Stalking isn't simple, no. If you wanted to know more about me, you could have simply asked. We could have talked about it. It would have come up naturally during some conversation, or whatever, but going behind my back and learning the most obscure details about my personal life just so you can look good in front of my parents is honestly fucked up, Iris."

Iris felt as though she had just been waterboarded.

She knew she was playing with fire the longer she went on pretending to not know every single detail about Lyra's life—most of them, that is. There was an entire side of her that was permanently out of sight, like the moon, but Iris had spent years of their lives knowing her better than anyone else. The fact that she had lasted so long without sticking her foot in her mouth was something akin to a miracle, but she'd just had to go and ruin everything on the one night she couldn't screw up.

She had left a better first impression on the Sinclairs, leaving the door open for more open and pleasant communication, but it had cost her Lyra's trust in her. They were standing in front of each other, both trembling with immeasurable hurt and heartbreak, but the betrayal in Lyra's eyes was the worst part.

It wasn't the first time Iris had been faced with that look.

She thought it would be just the one time, back in the original timeline, the day she'd walked away from her dream girl, but now . . . now she was being exiled. She was being dumped in the middle of a crowded street. She'd promised herself and Lyra's memory she would never inflict that kind of pain on someone again; rewinding time was supposed to fix things, to make up for past mistakes by learning from everything and everywhere she'd done and gone wrong.

Instead, Lyra and their chances at a second opportunity were slipping through the gaps between Iris' bony fingers. Trying to hold on to any of that would be like trying to grab smoke.

In one final, feeble attempt to salvage the dumpster fire she had ignited, Iris took a hesitant step forward.

It was dangerous, considering how busy the streets were, bustling with speeding cars during the nightly rush hour, and with how badly Lyra would like to shove her into incoming traffic, but Iris would continuously throw her precious caution to the wolves if it meant saving her.

When she stepped forward, Lyra took an instinctive step backward, eyes filled to the brim with tears, and all Iris could do was look back at her and take her in—so tiny, so frail. Lyra's eyes didn't move, even when she choked out a sob, even when she stepped back too far and didn't even see the car speeding at full strength towards her.

If she did, it would have been during the fraction of a moment she looked to the side, but it hadn't been enough. She hadn't been quick enough, blinded by anger, blinded by Iris' failures.

Iris felt the crunch before she heard it. Whether it was the sheer force of the impact of the car against Lyra or her world imploding, she wasn't certain, but it had happened again in a similar way.

Sudden. Tragic. Inevitable. A freak accident.

Lyra dying while being so furious at Iris she hadn't managed to get the words out.

Iris standing by helplessly, pathetically, unable to do anything but watch.

No. No. No. Not again.

She pushed it all away, finding strength within her she didn't even know she had in the first place, and she knew there was no time to feel sorry for herself anymore. She'd been through this before, and she refused to let it happen again; she refused to be meek and passive, watching her life go by, watching Lyra die again when she could have done something to prevent it.

It was the sight of the crimson puddles in front of her that triggered it then, she thought.

A swarm of butterflies came rushing in, spinning in a whirlwind, growing stronger with each passing heartbeat, and everything that time, the ocean, that car, Lyra's pride—all of it—had taken away, it would have to give back. Iris would fight tooth and nail to ensure it would happen, damn it.

The tornado stilled as quickly as it had formed, giving place to a light tremor tittering the ground beneath Iris' feet, and Lyra was standing in front of her, taking the fateful step back. Before she could, though, before Iris even heard the screech of the wheels against the wet pavement or saw the flashing lights reflecting off Lyra's pale hair, she lurched forward and curled her fingers around her wrists to pull her towards her in a crushing hug.

Iris had her back turned to the street then, having spun the two of them around just in case. Just in case one of them had to get hit. Just in case yet another version of the universe had to be altered and subsequently destroyed. If Iris died, there would be no more rewinding time, no more second, third, hundredth chances, but she wouldn't know.

She'd know she had, at the very least, tried. Sometimes, trying was all you could do.

It was last second, too, and the car sped past them dangerously close, close enough for Iris to swear she felt one of the rearview mirrors slam against her back, but Lyra was in her arms. Lyra's heart pounded violently against her chest and, through mangled heartbeats, and her breathing grew heavier.

She was alive. She was.

Iris had saved her.

"You saved my life," Lyra whispered, finally moving away. Instead of running for the hills, instead of being enraged, she cupped Iris' face between her gelid hands, but the latter didn't even wince. All was well with Lyra being safe. "How . . . how did you know? About the car? I would've heard it. I would've seen it. But you—it was like you already knew."

Iris exhaled through her mouth. "You might want to sit down for this."

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

look. i get it. i do. at least it's out in the open now, even though it seems like everything's going to shit. probably because everything IS going to shit. i can't promise it will get better, but at least it's matching the quality of the writing. it's a train wreck. it keeps getting worse with time

this chapter was a bit on the longer side but this is, after all, a novella. at least it's shorter than the previous one, right??

right??

bear with me so we can suffer together babes x

wc: 1878 (docs) // 1857 (wattpad)

total wc: 19297 (docs) // 19063 (wattpad)