{Time} ~ DORBYN AU

THREE

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Rays of the morning sun leak through the curtain's gaps, softly lighting up my bedroom. I yawn as my eyes adjust to the light. The clock on the bedside table reads 9:23AM, which is around the time that I normally wake up. I eventually get up, after lying on my bed for a few minutes, and slowly make my way to the bathroom in the hallway.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing my face with cold water. Every small gush of water was like moments refreshing in my memory, as I started to remember yesterday's events. It only occurred to me that someone else was in my house-

"Corbyn!" I gasp, rushing out of the bathroom to my bedroom. I stare at my unmade, empty bed with a dumbfounded look on my face. So he didn't sleep here? Or maybe he did but woke up before I did..
Since there aren't any guest bedrooms in my house, I check the living room since it has a couch, which is a possible place to sleep on. It looks untouched, like no one sat on it for 8 hours. Looks like he didn't sleep here either..
Then where did he sleep? Did he even sleep?
The only place I can think of left is the garage. He has probably made himself at home there. The door is still wide open, like how it was last night. I near the door and look into the garage, and there is Corbyn. Still in the same position as he was last night.

Is he still working on that damn machine?

I divert his attention to me by saying, "You didn't sleep?" I step into the dusty room and lean on the wall that holds the door. He stares at me blankly while the question processed in his sleepy head. "Yeah," he starts off, rubbing his drooping eyes, "it's alright though. I was thinking of asking you where I could rest but you were already sound asleep and I didn't want to disturb such a kind person," he emphasises 'kind' while placing his hand on his chest. A boost of confidence rises in my body, causing me to playfully roll my eyes. I'm surprised by this gesture I make, but I go along with it. Corbyn puts on an exaggerated tone of pity, and says, "The shock must've made you tired after running into a time traveler," he scoffs at himself while I chuckle. "It's no trouble. You could've woken me up. I wouldn't mind helping my guests," I reply teasingly. He raises his eyebrows again.

God, that signature look gets me all the time.

"Well, at least my traveller is mostly fixed," Corbyn says, interrupting my thoughts, "It should do me well enough to get home and properly fix this."
My heart sinks a bit after he said that. I won't lie, I was getting used to his presence.
"Okay," I say, with a discreet hint of sadness in my voice, "so do you think you'll be leaving today?"
"I think some food and rest would be good before I go," Corbyn replies with a polite smile.
"Ok, l'll make breakfast," I say, exiting the garage.
I can't help but feel a bit sad about Corbyn leaving so soon. Thinking about him being gone makes me feel lonely on the inside. I slightly shiver, either by the chilly spring morning or the aching thought of being alone.

Luckily I am able to distract myself by preparing pancakes for breakfast. I turn on the stove and place a frypan on the burner grate, while I touch up the pancake mix that's in my metal bowl. I pour the first portion of batter onto the frypan, listening to the thick liquid sizzle from the heat, when Corbyn finally comes out of the garage. From the corner of my eye, I see him taking a better look at what's inside my house. He stops at the small display cabinet adjacent to the garage door and gingerly picks up a photo frame. Probably one that has my family sitting in front of a Christmas tree or me standing in front of the American Idol hall when I was younger. He gazes at the photo he's holding for a while before placing it back on the cabinet and making his way towards the kitchen, where I was flipping my first few pancakes. He walked over to the stove and stood next to me, looking like he was intrigued by what I was cooking.
"Are those pancakes?"
I turn to Corbyn, realising that the question came from him. Why would he ask that- oh yeah, he's from the future.
"Yep," I respond, "Sounds like you haven't had them a lot."
Corbyn rubs the back of the neck. "Yeah, we don't really cook them. They come in frozen packets that you can heat up."
I was now suddenly intrigued by what he said. "Woah, really?"
He hums. "Do those pancakes have a flavour?"
"They come in different flavours in the future?"
"Yeah. Ones like salted caramel, cotton candy, strawberry."
I feel my stomach rumble.
"I wish I could try them," I'm imagining the taste of strawberry pancakes in my mouth.
"Maybe I can bring you some when I go back," I hear Corbyn say, which makes me squeal inside because that means he'll sometimes come around to see me. That also means he wants to see me more often.

I finish making about half of the batter when Corbyn says, "I see you live on your own."
He's probably curious about the people in my photo frames.
"I moved out," I say, "I wanted a break when I graduated high school, spend some time writing music and plan how I should release my songs and all that."
I continued telling Corbyn about my growing music career, my family, about how I found my passion for music, how I wanted to live in an area with no one close by — not like I wanted to isolate myself. I thought it would be a good way to focus on writing my songs.
Corbyn stays quiet while absorbing everything I say, showing great interest in my life. He seems like a great listener. When I finish my story, I flip the last pancake onto the stack sitting aside and turn off the stove. I leave the frypan to cool and turn to Corbyn, who's standing closer to me than I expected.
"Well, that's my life in a nutshell," I conclude. The look on Corbyn's face reminds me of how he was amazed by my eyes last night. It's as if he's still captivated by my facial features.
"Sounds like a nice life so far" he says, keeping his eyes on mine, not breaking the intense contact.
I feel like I'm under his spell. I feel like I can't speak, so I nod my head slowly. My eyes look down at his soft lips which are slightly agape, making them look plump and sending my legs to lose consciousness. I lean back on the edge of the stove to steady my balance, then glance back up at Corbyn who's eyes are now on my lips. The thought that he's looking at them in such a lustful way leads me to breathe shakily.
It it just now I realise that I am immensely attracted to Corbyn. I am into this guy that I barely know, yet I feel like I know a lot about him.

He's a time traveller for crying out loud!

Back in reality I see this beautiful boy, who's standing in front of me, slowly lean towards me. His eyes are still looking at my lips, sometimes flickering up at me as if he's seeking permission to do what I believe he's going to do. At this point I have lost my logical senses and can't control myself. I can't decide if this sort of feeling is normal, but I can't resist the powerful urge to kiss him. I feel my heartbeat speed up as he gets closer, until there's barely any space between us. I start leaning in-

A loud, high-pitched buzz makes us jump and pull away from the gap we didn't seal. I hear the sound coming from Corbyn's pocket in his jeans. On his face I see alertness and a bit of disappointment. Out of his pocket, he takes a flat object, a device that looks futuristic. From what I can make out, it looks like some kind of monitor. It's buzzing at a fast rate, showing some kind of urgency. That thing interrupted our good moment, and I want to crush it so bad to make it shut up.
"Oh no," Corbyn says under his breath with stress in his voice. Here I can tell that something is not right, and maybe after all it was good that the monitor went off when we were about to kiss.
Corbyn suddenly grabs my hand and pulls me towards the garage rather quickly. "What happened?" I ask, feeling a little bit stressed too even though I have no idea what is happening. "They're coming," he replies immediately, "I have to leave."
Wait-
Corbyn enlarges the Chronodisc and opens the door by placing his palm on the black, shiny, rectangular plate.
"And you're coming with me."
"W-what? Why?" I stutter, surprised by his demand.
"I'll explain later. Trust me on this."
By now, Corbyn has stepped into the machine and it starts hovering above the ground.
This can't be happening.
"How can I? I don't know where you're taking me and I'm not prepared to travel-"
I am caught off guard when Corbyn kneels down and cups my face with his hands. I can feel the fear in my eyes, staring straight into Corbyn's for comfort.
He says to me softly, "If you don't want to get badly hurt, then come with me."
He let's go of my face and lays his hand out for me to hold. "Do you trust me now?" There's a craving for adventure in his eyes.
I look at his hand then reluctantly hold it, heaving myself onto the platform of the Chronodisc. The door closes behind me and from the outside, the machine disappears in a flash of light.