{Time} ~ DORBYN AU

TWO

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I close the front door behind me and take the keys out of the lock as the boy, who came with me, looks around. "Well, this is my house," I gesture to the whole space. Looking at how the boy's face shows curiosity, I can guess that he's never been in 2019. It's only a guess, I'm still uncertain if he's actually a time traveller. I end the short inspection by cutting to the chase, "Shall we.. go to my garage?"
"Ah, garage, yeah," he says. He follows me across the living room, to a door behind the couch. I turn the knob and push the door to reveal my dimly lit, dusty garage. The boy doesn't show any awe, or disgust, as he walks in and scans the area. He pulls out the disc and chucks it into the open space. For a moment, I thought I felt my heart skip a beat when he seemed to carelessly throw his traveller onto the dirty, concrete floor. But it opens up into a sphere and hovers over the floor.
I notice the boy lifting his hand, and pressing it flat on a glossy black, rectangular plate. It's as if the plate is analysing the boy's handprint, which it does so in a millisecond. The machine's door slides to the side, allowing the boy to walk in and go out of sight. From where I'm standing, I can see the room inside the machine that seems to spread out quite a distance, unlike from expected when looking from the outside. Before I could take a longer glance at the interior, the boy steps back out and closes the door. I see him holding a toolbox and a long, narrow board.
He drops the board and sets down the toolbox. The board, what appears to be a hover board, levitates, just like the machine.

It only occurs to me how all these things the boy has seems so futuristic. It leaves me curious, wondering about so many things. Things like, where is he from?, or, what is he doing here?
If I simply allowed this guy to stay at my place, then surely I have the right to try to understand what his purpose is here.
"So.. you wouldn't mind telling me a bit about yourself and maybe.. why you're here?" I say, slicing through the awkwardness, yet flooding the whole room in it again.
The boy pauses, right when he was about to roll under the machine while laying on his hover board. The boy sits up, preparing himself for what will seem like a long speech.
"You might've figured out already that I'm not from here, I guess we could put it like that," he says slowly, as if he is carefully formulating what to tell me. He takes a long, quiet breath before saying,
"I'm a time traveller."

I remain silent. He looks at me, trying to make out what my facial expression is showing. It might've been sending him a signal that either I don't believe a single word he said, or I want him to keep on talking. It could be both.
He continues. "I come from the year of 2069. I got here by using this," he says, patting the machine beside him. "This is the Chronodisc. Designed by me, invented by me, used by me." He opens his mouth, but doesn't say anything. By looking at him, who was deep in thought, it seemed like he was going to say something but reconsidered. Instead, he says, "I am here, in 2019, because my traveller got damaged while I was initially on my way to 2069. You see, when I realised that there was something slightly wrong with it, I changed the destination to March 19, 2019. However, the Chronodisc time travelled to March 16. This is a big issue for me, as a time traveller. It may not seem like one to you but if I left my machine with a fault like that, it could send me to a completely different time to what I wanted, and there could be.. difficulties in trying to get back."

He stops talking, allowing me to process everything he has said.
He is a time traveller. How is that even possible? Time travelling seems like the type of thing that only happens in sci-fi movies, even if they can logically explain how it works. I am left speechless. Utterly speechless. I now understand why he's here, but there's a question that's going wild in my brain.
Why me?
What does he see in me; that would make him think that I would take him in, that would make him feel comfortable enough to tell me all of this?-

"I'm Corbyn, by the way.. I don't really have a surname."

I slowly nod my head, still keeping eye contact with Corbyn. There is a moment where we both just look at each other, like we've gained some trust, like we've connected.
"Cool," I eventually say, showing that I've understood Corbyn's story.
I look down, while he continues to stare at me. "What year were you born in?" He asks.
"1999," I reply.
Corbyn doesn't say anything after that, like he's thinking.
Before awkward silence could suffocate me, I say, "Well I should probably make dinner. You must be hungry, I know I'm hungry, like, I haven't eaten anything since this morning. I'll make something for us to eat. Yeah.."
It came off a bit like I was rambling. I mentally slap my forehead for that. Corbyn only chuckles softly. Slightly embarrassed, I quickly walk out of the garage, leaving Corbyn to do his work.

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The smell of mac 'n' cheese flows around the kitchen, causing my stomach to grumble with hunger. The warm scent must've travelled to the garage because Corbyn came rushing to the counter. He must've been really hungry, or he really likes mac 'n' cheese. I set plates of our meal on the counter, along with a set of cutlery for two. Corbyn sits down on a high stool, while I sit on the opposite side, facing him.
I pick up my fork and dig into the pasta, dragging layers of cheese up from the pile. Corbyn does the same, devouring the food. He finishes his dish before I do. While I'm eating, I feel a pair of eyes devouring on me instead. I look up and see Corbyn staring straight into my eyes. He seems to be in awe, as if there's something about me that's hypnotising. "Your eyes," he says, "are they technologically modified?"
"What? N-no!" I retort. "They're..."
What's the right word for this situation...
"They're real?"
"Wow... they're so blue," Corbyn says in wonder. He leans over the counter, with his eyes still looking into mine. "It's amazing," he whispers. My heart skips a beat when our faces are only a few inches apart. There is still a look of interest in Corbyn's eyes, as he studies me like a scientist.
I don't move. I let him gaze at every part of my face, even my lips. I take this moment to take a better look at his eyes. They were like grey pools, taking on a blue tint, with specs of gold scattered around the iris. Now, I can say that I am in awe as well. If I were to be honest, I could get used to how physically close both of us were.

But that moment ends before I know it.

As if stirring from a trance, Corbyn blinks several times, making me wake up as well. Corbyn suddenly stands up and walks towards the garage without saying anything, leaving me confused. What has just happened?
While I'm recovering from being dazed, Corbyn disappears into the garage in a split second. Now I sit alone, in the kitchen, with two empty plates and a moment to remember. Interrupting my thoughts, Corbyn peeks through the door. "Hey. Thanks for the dinner, Daniel," he says, awkwardly drumming his fingers against the wooden door frame. "No problem," I give a polite smile.
Corbyn nods and lurks back into the shadows, hiding himself from existence.
And that leaves me by myself again, looking like I was always here in this empty house. Sounds of metal clinking and engines whirring come from the garage, taking over the eerie silence in the kitchen. A heavy sigh escapes my mouth as I pick up my plate and place it in the sink.

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The time reads 11:47pm on my digital clock, which sits on my bedside table. Lying on my bed, I stare at the bright red numbers on the black box, wondering if the boy I only met today was going to sleep.
He hadn't moved anywhere from the garage after we had dinner, and it makes me ask myself if I did something wrong, if I did something that made things awkward between us and now he doesn't want to be anywhere near me-

Ignoring my inner worries, I lift the sheets off my body and slowly walk to the garage. I make it to the door frame.
Without making a sound, I lean against the wall and tilt my head to the side, allowing me to look inside the garage.
At first I see the... Chronodisc, then I see Corbyn's figure lying under the metallic sphere.
Should I say something?
I stand there for a few seconds, pondering.
I probably shouldn't interrupt him. He seems busy.
Lightly pushing myself from my uncomfortable position on the wall, I head back to my bedroom and cover myself in my bed sheets.
I lay on the mattress and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes.
If I wake up tomorrow and realise this is all a dream, it wouldn't matter, right?