Friends With Time ⌛ (Tyler Galpin x Reader)

Day 94-95

Day 94:

You're on the floor next to Tyler, staring up at those empty lights, when the door clicks open with an alarm and the screeching of the metal against the concrete.

It's surprisingly anti-climactic.

You crawl up, past the cage, and lock it again. You know you should say something to Tyler, but you're both so hungry, and you can talk later...

You've never had canned ravioli that tasted so good. You eat it straight out of the can, as much as you can stand, hurry down and send some over through the conveyor belt, then immediately pass out in your bed. Your soft bed. It feels good to be back.

Day 95:

You wake up in a daze, the world hazy around you.

Somewhere, something is playing music.

The fitness reqs.

It almost seems like another world.

You sit up groggily, pushing your hair back. You will skip fitness reqs today. You need to get your strength back, at least for one more day. Afua will understand.

You push back your hair, glancing at yourself in the mirror that hangs from the bedroom door. Your skin is gaunt and pale, and you're still wearing that swimsuit from when you went diving. It's dirty now, you think, glancing at your sheets with a sigh. You'll have to wash them, too.

But perhaps what stands out most prominently is the clean bandage wrapped around your torso. You draw your fingers up to it, carefully tracing where you know the scar is.

It'll be almost healed now. You always tried not to look at it when Tyler redid your bandages or cleaned the wound, because the sight of your own blood always makes you feel sick.

Eventually, you'll need to rewrap it yourself, now that you're out.

Out.

You climb out of bed, pushing the thick white cover back into place. You're out now, which means...

Everything's back to normal.

And Tyler is safely behind the glass pane again.

You run your hand along your braid, the one you wore all the time when you were trapped. He won't be able to do it for you when you're out here.

You could try to recreate it. Maybe.

The workout song is still playing over the overhead, but it doesn't energize you like it usually does. It feels weird to be alone.

You walk over to the mirror and reach into your closet, pulling out white pants and a flowy, white, off-the-shoulder top.

You take a shower, then put them on and take a deep breath. It's been a long time since you've had clean, fully dry clothes. You spritz a bit of your body spray. It's good to be clean, to feel comfortable and fresh.

Stretching, you go into the kitchen, watching the others doing their workout on the TV and carefully sidestepping the camera's range. It'll be good to see them again. Has Aliyah missed you? Did they guess what happened, or did USOAT tell them?

You retrieve the simplest breakfast you can find from the storage room. Oatmeal with berries is easy enough to heat up in the microwave, in two, warm bowls. You scarf down your bowl and make another, then wolf that down, too, and another, until your belly feels like it's going to burst.

It's been so long since you felt filled. You lean back on the cloth barstool and smile contentedly. The smell of fresh coffee weaves through the room. You already have it brewing, the pumps of creamer and caramel already waiting on the kitchen island.

When the timer dings, you slide off of the barstool and gather his things: coffee (with two pumps of cream and caramel, the way you know he likes it), the oatmeal, and a fresh, white towel for his room.

The submarine door opens easily, and you move down the stairs.

"I have coffee," you call down to him, balancing the oatmeal on your arm so you can lift it up.

You set his things down on the conveyor belt, then gather the empty cans of what he ate last night. "There's also an extra fluffy towel there, just for fun."

"Thanks, Y/N," he says, the relief visible on his face. He presses a hand against the glass, and you raise yours to meet his.

The way his palms feel on your skin rises up through your memory, and your face goes hot. He turns to sit down, and you plop down next to him.

He laughs under his breath. "Coffee," he says, taking a big sip of it. "And you made it my way, too."

He turns the cup in his hands. You glance up at the door, open, light from above pouring through.

"So here we are," you say. "Back to normal again."

He shakes his head, but doesn't say anything.

"I have a meeting with my mother later today," you say, grimacing. "That'll be interesting."

"You know," he says, looking up, eyes flickering over to you, "I think you'll be okay."

"Really."

"Really," he says, sitting forward. "I mean, look at you. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Y/N."

His voice softens, and he looks away, shyer than you've ever seen him before. "And- I mean, if you'll have me- if you don't mind that I'm Hyde, I would really love to be your more-than-friends."

You giggle, sudden pink, happy bubbles rising through you. "Tyler," you say, "I thought I made that pretty obvious when I kissed you."

A slow smile spreads across his face, until he's beaming, like he can hardly believe it.

"And in the Academy, we call that being your girlfriend," you say. "So I'd love to. I'd love to be your... girlfriend."

The word itself seems giddy on your tongue, and the rest of breakfast flies by in a swirl of laughter and a shocked kind of joy. It's like he can barely believe it, the way he looks at you like he can hardly believe that it's real.

And for a moment, you can almost believe that you're two lovers, sitting together, nothing to hold you both back from each other.

And then the timer on your watch beeps, and you jump up. "Shoot," you say, glancing back at him and then up at the door. Your heart slams against your chest at the thought of it, the world around you going dizzy. "It's... I have to go meet with the board. And my mom."

"Wait," Tyler says, and he stands up with you, and you press your palm against his when he offers it. "You got this, Y/N. You're gonna do great."

"Thank you," you tell him, voice soft, then hurry up the stairs, pushing past the door and into the living room.

You turn on the webcam just in time, your mother and the board just finding their seats around the dark blue, velvet-y boardroom.

"Y/N," your mother says, looking at you. "My lovely daughter. I'm so glad you survived."

She finds a seat, elegantly tucking her skirt under her as she sits down. "We are so glad to have you back. Of course, though, due to the... rarity of your experience, our board has a few questions for you."

She gestures for you to sit down. "You may want to sit down for this, Y/N."