Hopelessly Devoted ~ Garroth x F!Reader

Ch 79: A Thing Of The Past-Future

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Chapter Seventy-Nine: A Thing Of The Past-Future
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Zoey's POV:

*unedited, continuation of last chapter*

       I cornered her. "You ditched our breakfast to write in your diary?"

        "What breakfast?" she asked.

          "Oh, you know, just the one where you were going to tell me what the heck happened at that party last-"

          Time stood still, and with a twinkling flash, I was on my porch.

          I narrowed my eyes, glaring at my surroundings as if to blame them for this.

          Aaron walked down the road.

         "Aaron?" I questioned.

          "Zoey?" he repeated in a mock tone.

I shook my head at his all-too-familiar joke. "You were already here a few hours ago, we were at the-"

Twinkle. Flash. The sun sunk down the horizon, a mixture of oranges and purples blending together. Aaron walked down the the street.

"Aaron," I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him.

"Zoey," he copied, returning my confused look.

"You're . . . here?" I couldn't wrap my head around him walking down the street and then reappearing from the same end he had originally come from.

"Yeah," he confirmed, "there's construction going on a little ways down the road, by the way."

         "I know," I answered hesitantly, but nonetheless walked with him around the corner he had come from.

This was all too weird. We've already walked this same path once todayish.

           "Hold on," I stopped Aaron on the sidewalk, "does this feel a little . . . familiar to you?"

            He shook his head. "No, not real-" THUNK!

          A bucket landed on Aaron's head, shielding his face as if it were a helmet. "Ow," he lifted up the hunk of metal, rubbing the top of his head.

         I gasped. Not because he was hurt —well, that, too— but because this was the same bucket from this morning. From now. From yesterday? "That bucket already-"

        Whoosh. Flash. I had another clear view of the neighborhood from my front porch.

I screamed in frustration, right as Aaron was about to walk up the steps to my porch. He opened his mouth, but I interjected.

"-yes, I know there's construction going on down the street. Let's go!" I speed-walked towards him.

He held up one finger, his brows knit in confusion, turning with me as I passed him. "Okay." He didn't question me and just went along with it.

We made it to the diner safely. The black-hoodie guy followed shortly after. I already knew he didn't have any information for me, so I ignored his presence.

         If today really is a repeat of yesterday, then I already know ____'s not gonna show. But it wouldn't hurt to order that hot chocolate while we're here.

          The wait wasn't as elongated as before and my hot chocolate came fairly soon. Before ever taking a sip, I remembered the old man. I couldn't do anything yesterday, but maybe I can prevent his mishap today.

       His table was right behind the counter I sat at, so I turned around to greet him and watch for any suspicious behavior. How lucky I was to be caught in the crossfire of spit and dentures. Right down my top. I tried to remain calm while frantically flapping my arms out at my sides. I was standing in one place, so that counts as a little calm.

        After squirming so much that the dentures fell out of the bottom of my clothing, I apologized and . . . picked them up off of the floor. Aaron rushed to my side, but I couldn't read his facial expression. Did he intend to help me or to laugh at me? Or both?

         "Excuse me," I pushed passed Aaron and towards the bathroom sign, "while I go burn off my hands." That affected my guess on Aaron's reaction; he was most definitely laughing now. But that mostly had to do with how hilarious I am as a person.

         It took a lot of vigorous scrubbing before I gave up and returned to my hot chocolate—which had magically transformed into cold chocolate.

         I took a sip of it anyway, then instantly regretted that choice. I put it down, still holding the gulp in my cheeks. Something stringy like dental floss was floating around in there. I grabbed it, pulling more and more line out like I was doing some kind of magician-unending-scarf trick. In my hands was probably the longest strand of black hair I have ever seen. I gagged, tossing it aside where it fluttered away.

        "Mmmm, delicious," Aaron commented.

       "I know for a fact that that was not mine." I gagged again at the recurring thought. There was hair in my drink.

         Whatever time this counts as is not my time that this counts as.

         Then I groaned. "____ isn't gonna show."

        "Ouch. Way to have faith in your friends."

         "That's not what I- whatever," I waved a hand dismissively. It was no use explaining myself when I could just show him. "Just come on."

          I started on a short route to the docks. "If you come this way, you'll see that Azura's boat is gone."

        The docks were empty. "See?" I largely gestured outwards.

        Aaron tried to sympathize with my confusing behavior. "She was never here in the first place? What point are you trying to prove?" He was genuinely worried about my sanity.

          "Maybe you'll understand if I show you something else," I continued my spiel down the road. "Katelyn is crying just over there."

          Aaron caught up to me easily. "Katelyn? Crying? There's no way that it's-" he stopped abruptly. "That's Katelyn."

           "And you'll never guess, but ____'s at home chilling on the couch with her diary."

"How do you even . . . ?"

       At ____'s house, I stepped right in. Now it was time for me to explain to them both exactly what was going on.

     Aaron followed inside tentatively, not wanting to barge in uninvited.

       "You will not believe the day I have had," I ranted, "It has restarted at least twenty million times and I-" am back on my porch.