Professor, Professor

Of Red Rings and Lab Coats

I altered certain events to fit my narrative—more so that they are altered in the time frame I believe the whole of the Mystery Room takes place.

Happy 8 years (or 7, if you wanna be bloody specific for Europe and North America) of the Mystery Room! I am publishing this early, due to my lack of patience. This entire story has been brewing in my drive for awhile, much to my chagrin. I was trying to write up Bloody Hands or His and Hers, but this came first and this, without a doubt, is one of the longest one-shots of my writing career for any pairing (no less for a fandom that is kind of dead.) It can be chopped into much more manageable chapters, but it's still pretty long, for my standards at least.

I admit that the characters feel slightly OOC, but it's probably because I've been reading other fanfiction in the meantime and their characters may have slipped in.

I'm also debating if I should rewrite the fanfictions I did when I started writing Lucifendi, like Stand By Me or some of the others because I feel like they had potential--I didn't at the time. We'll see what happens.

——

Lucy

Like with most phenomenon that graces humanity, some people reject it and some people agree to it. The evidence is present, but the belief that it is a reality, something that can actually be true is different.

It's a subject touched upon in science class, romanticised in some books. The fond name for it is a Ring, one of those fine things that signify that someone is in love. Young boys and girls giggle and make fun of each other, trying to see who earned that Ring around their wrist. Women and men both joke of it, poking at each other and talking about it in social events. Some even treat it as some blood jewelry; the more you have, the more you have loved people in your life. It wraps around one's wrist, depending on how much the bearer loves the person they think of. It's as thick as a hair tie, reminiscent to a tattoo. Though you can't get rid of Rings with tattoo ink.

Lucy knows the marks all too well. She sees it on her teachers, on her parents, on her aunts and uncles, on strangers at Tesco. She sees it on the actors on the telly, even though she doesn't quite understand what they're really saying. Their outfits were dazzling, though. Her mum used to tell her the story about how she had met Lucy's father in university, how the Ring burned ever so well and she had realized she was in love. The first time she had regaled the tale to Lucy was when she was only six, when Lucy came asking why everyone had Rings on their wrists except for her classmates.

"Why don't I have any, Mummy? I love you and daddy." Lucy asked quietly, staring at her bare wrists, creamy skin a stark contrast to everyone else in her life that was above the age of 10–which, granted, wasn't many people. Lucy's mum smiled to her, showing her wrists to her young daughter under the lamplight. She had sixteen Rings on her wrist, identical to the other. However, there was one that wrapped around all the way, in-between the other red Rings like some convoluted tattoo. It was of equal comparison to her father, who had twelve. Similarly with one Ring longer than the rest.

"That's true, darling, but that's a different kind of love. Rings are earned, my love and your daddy's love for you is different. The ones who earn your love can be your friends, the real ones, but the longer one, my dear? That's the one that claims your heart." Lucy's mum began pointing out each mark, explaining who each individual was with warmth in her tones. Lucy's mind drifted to something else, however.

"Then what about Jamie's dad? He has two Rings that go all the way on both wrists." Lucy mentioned her classmate, one that she wasn't explicitly close to, but knew of her father, who wore a corporate short-sleeves after picking up his little girl from school. Lucy's mum's lips pressed to a thin line, surprised that her daughter even asked such a question. Lucy stared at her while the older woman rubbed the back of her head, suddenly uncomfortable, but looked to her daughter's curious expression. It was a truth her little girl would have to learn.