Time of Your Life - Green Day

Black Hole of Your Window

London, May 2023

Constance's POV

My window was wide open, letting in a cool evening breeze that swayed my beloved American Idiot poster. I glanced over, worried the single bit of blu tac holding it up would fail and I'd have to rescue the poster but after a good few moments of staring at it intently, I was assured that it was stable and continued canoodling on my guitar.

I was slowly but surely teaching myself one of my favourite songs, First Love / Late Spring by Mitski. My only regret is that I hadn't yet had a first love like this, one that I was so enraptured by that I would live and die for that person. The thought of someone having such a chokehold on my heart frightened me a little but I lived by the old philosophy of "T'is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all".

The closest I ever came to love like that was hardcore crushing on the punk rock god of my dreams, Billie Joe Armstrong. Shame I respect and admire (and admittedly kinda crush on) his wife too much to properly stalk him and try to make him mine. THAT and the fact that we're separated by a whole ocean.

I then heard something familiar, "Oi...OI!"

"Took you long enough. Also shut up, my family will hear you," I called down to Emrys.

I'd known Emrys for about a year now. First time I met them, I thought I would die. Now they're my best friend.

I climbed over my window sill and hung down as far as my arms would extend before letting go and enduring the massive two foot drop.

"Where are we headed tonight? -Sorry, when", I sarcastically corrected myself as we headed into the alleyway next to my flat where The Box awaited.

"Ugh, you're never going to let that go, are you?", Emrys sighed as they got the keys.

"Oh please, you were too dorky for me to leave it be," I joked before they got the door open, "Ah. Mr Peabody, shall we?"

"Yes, Ms Hyde we sha-... Wait, I'm not in cosplay. You know, if you're going to tease me so much, I could just leave you here to your boring normal life...", he taunted me.

"Ugh, fine I'll behave," I groaned.

"And?", they pushed.

"And you're the coolest time traveller I know," I begrudgingly complimented them.

"Oi, I'm the only time traveller you know!", they scolded me.

"And that makes you the coolest?", I gave my sweetest guilty smile and batted my eyes for good measure.

"Aw, you sweet little manipulator. Come on then," they opened the door and we hurried in.

Ah, I suppose it would be good to mention that Emrys is a time traveller. Don't take my casual demeanour to mean that the title of time traveller is to be taken lightly. Emrys is the only time traveller that... well either of us know. I don't even really know if Emrys is fully human. I can't really assume anything when it comes to them.

The only things I do know is that Emrys is presumably around 19 years old, dresses like a dork, enjoys Mr Peabody and Sherman content more than the average being should, calls Doctor Who stupidity even though it is literally their life story, and lets me go on adventures whenever its convenient for them.

"Have we got a plan this time or are we 'winging it' again? Cuz I'll be honest, I kind of hate it when we wing it," I asked.

They scoffed, "Oh, that's just because you always think we're going to die when we wing it."

"Yeah, how foolish am I," I said sarcastically.

"Well you're still alive, aren't you? We both are!", they gave me a smile.

I rolled my eyes at the flesh sack with a death wish.

"And! You'll be happy to know that I DO have a plan for this trip," they smiled smugly as if just having won something.

"Well, that's a relief...", I stared at the oblivious time traveller for a few seconds before urging, "Mind if you clue me in?"

"Whu? Oh, yes! I thought I'd make this a bit of a treat for you, we'll be heading to a powerhouse of controversial and world-shaping music!", they announced before punching in the coordinate, "Setting a course for New York..."

"LATE 70s PUNK NEW YORK?", I exclaimed joyously, "Oh I could kiss you!"

Emrys' eyes bulged, "I hope that's an expression-"

"-It is, don't flatter yourself-"

"-and uh, not quite. I thought I'd take you up to Harlem in the 1920s! The Bethlehem of jazz!", they started doing a little jig as a contemplated my entire relationship with this utter dork.

"Emrys. Sometimes I think about stealing this Box from you and taking it for myself. Not because I'm a particularly selfish person, but simply because I instinctively desire not to have such a wonderful and powerful machine in the hands of someone so idiotic and dorkish."

"Shut up, you love me," they joked as they continued doing their jig.

They were tripped up by a sudden bump that shook through the whole Box. Emrys quickly got up and looked at the control panel.

"Is everything alright?", I asked nervously.

"Not quite. Hopefully it's nothing but some turbulence but I'd prepare for quite a bumpy ride," they explained

"Turbulence? But we're in... space... time... jargon... something?", I garbled.

"Hey, who's the time traveller? Who knows what happens?", they asked rhetorically.

"We're still going to get there in one piece, right?", I asked.

Emrys then made a noise that I hoped meant yes, so I took a seat and tried to wait it out.

We then hit a rather huge bump, knocking Emrys over top of the control panel, causing some sparks to fly, and sending me all the way back to the door of The Box.

"Emrys?!", I exclaimed.

"Uhh, I'm not so sure about that anymore!"

I was just about to try and run or rather, with the gravity shift, climb back over to them but there was another bump followed by a full-on crash that knocked the door open and sent the Box spinning and hurdling through space-time-jargon-something.

I did my best to hold onto the door but there was another bump that, looking outside I could have sworn came from another Box, sending me flying out into space-time.

The last thing I heard was Emrys calling out my name, the sound echoing and contorting as I felt myself fall through different planes of reality before I conceded to the sweet blackness of unconsciousness.