Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dull lights above illuminated the sea of natural colors, a musty aroma permeated the air and promised something long kept secret. Oaken furniture, floor lamps, and faded Victorian couches all lined the sides of the path. Each area a small hollow, numbers marking each cubby of treasures. 

Among the labyrinth, the woman searched, her hands brought into her chest as she squeezed through the crowded alleys. There was one thing she was looking for, her eyes scanning the partition walls that housed trinkets and baubles. They were hung by nails and glimmering as she passed by, but her eyes didn’t linger. No, there was one section she was looking for.

Coming to the end of the path, where the alley bent along the back wall, there was a section that was alive with sound, heard under the hum of the overhead lights. The soft collection of ticks and tocks. The display wall seemed to be alive, a good thirty wall clocks performed their dance, pendulums swung, hands ticked forward in a march. 

Stopping to watch, she looked back and forth from clock to clock, trying to picture in her head what it would look like on her wall at home. Mindful of the price tags, she had her budget in mind as she perused. One caught her attention, an ornately carved and hand painted wooden frame with roses on its surface. It was out of her price range by a significant margin. In interest, she looked at a birdhouse clock. If it was close to the new hour, she might have been able to see a cuckoo leap out. That would be distracting, she decided, even though it was in her price range. 

There were so many choices that it was hard to decide. Some were way too expensive, others were not a style that she particularly liked. 

Catching her eye, the black tail swung back and forth, its eyes looking to the right and left rhythmically. A cat clock, one with that almost creepy expression, wide smile and big, moving eyes. 

It was charming. 

Immediately endeared to it, she contemplated what else in her kitchen would go with it. It was black and white, so it wouldn’t clash with anything. It was small enough that it would fit exactly where she wanted it. Her eyes traveled down to the price tag. 

Ouch. 

It was just a tad bit over her budget. 

Her heart sank, and she continued her search for the other clocks. Others that were more cost effective for her, since there were other things she needed to buy. Yet, she could almost feel the eyes of the clock as it beckoned her. 

It was only just a little bit over budget. Wouldn’t she rather get something that she liked now instead of buying something subpar just to fill the empty space? Besides, this was a popular antique shop. There was no guarantee it would be here next time. 

Contemplating this for a moment, she sighed and came to her decision. 

Carefully, she took it off the nail it hung from, its tail wagging back and forth. Holding it out, she walked through the alleys back to the front of the store. The register was as buried as anything else in the sea of furniture. The man running it looked up over his glasses, his grey hair and kind smile welcomed her. 

“Good choice.” he offered as she approached, “A classic vintage.”

“It just spoke to me.” She responded with a laugh. 

The clerk took the clock from her, held the pendulum still, and rang it up for her.  

“I’ve seen many of these come in and out of this shop. I’m glad this one is finding a home, I fixed it up myself.” Making conversation, he bubble wrapped it and taped it down. 

“You fixed it? That sounds pretty difficult.” She was intrigued, pulling out the budget and then some for the clock.

“It wasn’t so hard. It just took a little time and a small amount of patience.” He ensured, sliding the wrapped object over the counter. 

Taking her cash, he gave her change and a written receipt. Tucking it away, she scooped the clock up off the counter and held it to her chest, afraid she would drop it. Breaking it now, after how much it cost, she thinks she would cry. 

“You take care of it, now.” The man advised with a smile. 

“I will, thank you!” She returned, heading to the door with her new treat. 

She opened the door with her shoulder, the ding dong wished her farewell as she made her way to her car. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have spent that much on the clock, but she could cut her budget somewhere else. It was cute, it made her happy, so she justified it anyway.

A short trip in the car, she laid it flat in the front seat so she could keep an eye on it while she drove. Once she was home, she took it inside with her. 

The house was barren, only a few items of furniture that she had been gifted or had bought at thrift or antique places were placed around. Boxes of trinkets, tools, and other items sat on the floor of the living room and the kitchen, where she came to stop. 

Taking a hammer she borrowed, she nailed a tack in the wall, about where she wanted the clock to go. Luckily, she had a kitchen table already so she unraveled the bubble wrap and tape to reveal the shiny black clock. Now free, the pendulum started up again. 

Carefully, she hung up the clock where she tacked and took a step back to admire her work. 

She smiled at it and it smiled back. 

The kitchen sounded a bit less quiet now, the soft tick of the hands progressing forward kept her company in her empty home.

The kitchen was alive with cacophony, screaming and stomping was deafening even from upstairs. 

Marching down the stairs, she had enough of the noise. 

“You two need to calm down.” She called as she approached the kitchen. 

Stepping into the door frame, she flinched as a rubber bouncy ball hit the wall next to her head. The two kids, frozen in panic, watched as the ball bounced off the wall and onto her countertop, knocking a teacup off and into the sink. The crushing crack of it breaking cemented their fate. 

“Are you serious? Throwing that ball in here after I already told you not to.” She raised her tone a bit, placing her hands on her hips. They both looked at each other, their guilt etched on their faces. 

“Oh no, the teacup…” One of the girls started, the oldest of the two.

“Sorry, aunt Lizzy.” The youngest girl offered, looking down at the ground. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t knock my clock off the wall.” She warned, pointing a finger at them. “I would have definitely called your dad then.” Both of the girls were rambunctious and hardly listened. This was free birth control, she thought to herself. She loved her nieces but they could be a handful. What could she do? ADHD ran in the family. 

Both kids remained silent as she looked into the sink. Sure enough, the white porcelain teacup was broken. It was part of a set and now her harajuku fashion tea parties would have one less matching cup. Carefully, she scooped up the big pieces and held them in her palm. 

“Do you think you can fix it?” the oldest girl asked. Pursing her lips together, she thought about it and what that would entail. 

“Nah. It’s not worth it.” She decided, taking it to the trash to drop it in. 

“We’re so sorry.” The youngest girl repeated, looking as if she was going to cry. 

“It’s not a big deal this time, but no more throwing that in the house.” She instructed, and the kids nodded. “Just go do something else for a minute. Your dad will be here soon.”

“Can we play the playstation?” The oldest asked. 

Contemplating it for a moment, she hummed aloud. 

“Sure, but don’t touch my Final Fantasy 7 save. I’m at a boss fight.” She cautioned. It wasn’t true, she was on a date with Aerith in the game but the kids didn’t need to know that.  

“Deal!” One said, but she wasn’t sure who.

Both girls ran towards the living room, talking excitedly to themselves. 

Looking back to the sink, she fetched a wet paper towel and scooped up the small shards of glass. She took a deep breath, cleaning up the mess. Left alone in the kitchen, she looked over to the clock, happy to see it still on the wall, its motion perpetually continued.

It had been about two years since she got that clock, since she started renting this house. Her home felt a lot more full and welcoming, the kitchen had bulked up around the table and the clock, now looking lived in. She gathered things along the way, some were gifts, others were thrifted, and some were carefully saved up for. Frowning about the teacup, she didn’t think she needed to baby proof the place, as both girls were old enough to know better.

Her brother sometimes brought the kids over for her to watch if he ran errands. Their mother worked full time in the evenings, so she didn’t mind. It gave her a little distraction from her online school projects.She wished, however, that she didn't have to watch them today. Wanting to have a peaceful evening before she started her new corporate job tomorrow, she was a little bit irked. Oh well, she knew they needed help so it didn’t matter. She could still stay up late tonight and catch up on her curriculum, no biggie. 

Besides, it was remote work. It would be perfectly relaxed as compared to her work in retail management. She could sit and listen to music and take breaks when she needed. That, in reality, might actually make the job harder to do, as she may procrastinate her duties with no one there to hold her accountable.  Still, it had to be better than retail.

Retail. She shuddered. 

No, tomorrow will be fine. It was a new job, new day, and her friend assured her it would be her speed. 

Glancing at the clock face, it was 5:03. Her brother usually came for the girls at half after five, so she didn’t have much longer to watch them. She’d unwind and have a relaxed evening, getting what she could finish on her projects. Yes, it couldn’t be helped that she was visited by Amelia and Molly today, so why beat herself up by rushing through her work?

Smiling to herself, she prepared to have tea with one less cup to choose from.

Chapter Text

The events of the previous day spun around in her memory. 

Starting her new job, only to have it snatched away from her, receiving the package in the mail, and discovering that she could now talk to every object in her house. It all flooded through her mind like rapids, hard to grasp onto. 

This morning, she woke up and expected it all to be a dream. It was so dreamlike, in fact, that when she saw the pink glasses on her bedside table, she assumed she was still asleep. And yet, here she was. Sitting at her kitchen table, having already used the glasses again to make sure she wasn’t misremembering the previous day’s revelations. 

Overwhelming would be underselling how she felt. 

The very foundation for which she viewed the world had been shaken. At first, she thought maybe the glasses were just using VR to project people in front of her, as some kind of marketing ploy for a game or for promotion of new technology. That theory came crashing down when her bed remembered who she was and even hinted that she knew things she’d rather keep private. It was the same with the others, all of them so far knew her. They knew her as Elizabeth, the owner of the house, the “human”. Besides, what would a VR marketing scheme get out of making some of the items mean to her? 

Still reeling from her last conversation, the culprit was in the room with her now in fact. The shiny garbage can that sat across the kitchen table from her, against the counter. He was a jerk, and definitely not the endearing kind. He didn’t want to be bothered by her for sure and he had no qualms telling her. Cam was his name, if she recalled correctly. 

The feeling of rejection and the sinking feeling of being mocked hung heavy in her chest. She didn’t do well with confrontation, as it always made her feel ill. It was bound to happen, she reasoned with herself. Every item, object, and piece of furniture in her house knew her, watched her live, and could form opinions on her based on how they perceived her. In her own house, she was being watched and potentially judged. 

What if they all hated her? They all got to see the worst parts of her. 

Would her table hate her for dripping food on it when she was drunk? Would her shower watch on in pity as she cried after a breakup? Would her couch judge her for doomscrolling endlessly when she felt burned out?

Was there a single item in her house who could respect her after seeing her raw self?

The thoughts swirled, making her feel dizzy and somewhat detached. When she moved her hand to tap the keys on her laptop, she felt slower than her movements. She knew this feeling, the overwhelm before having a breakdown or dissociation spell. The laptop, with her school project on it, stayed in it’s unedited state. Unfinished, despite the encroaching deadline. This was the least of her worries now, she told herself, as finding the focus to continue everyday life amidst this revelation felt out of the question. 

She wondered what time it was, glancing quickly at the wall clock. 

It sat, charming as it had always been, its tail lashing back and forth as if to taunt her for wasting time in her head. Right, she always felt like it was smiling back at her but now that was definite. 

An item in her house that she loved so much, one of the cutest things she owned. Would she even want to talk to it, given the probability that it could be mean to her? Talking to it could ruin the affection she had for it, if the clock was anything like the trash can. She wanted to keep the feeling of endearment that she first had when she purchased it. 

And yet, the curiosity was eating at her. 

Of all of the items in her house, what are the chances that one of her favorites would be mean to her? She never touched the clock or did anything she imagined it would find disrespectful, like the dishes did. That Daisuke person remembered the teacup shattering and was stern about how she was a poor owner. While true, she still felt it was unfair. But with the clock, what could she have done to sleight it? 

Finding nothing that came to memory, she rose from the table and stepped around to stand in front of it. 

Did she really want to do this? Part of her considered throwing the glasses away or putting them in a dark box under her bed, but that seemed cruel to Skylar. She could just never use them again? 

Firming her resolve, she took a deep breath. It’s just her clock, she told herself

Realization of how silly this all felt struck her and she felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. You got this, Liz, she told herself. Again, it’s just her clock, who may or may not have an immediate reason to hate her. 

Lowering the pink aviators over her eyes, she looked at the clock and held the button on its side. It was still surprising to see a figure appear before her, as though dropped into her world by a higher power. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. 

Standing in front of her was her clock, she assumed. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she took it in. 

Standing perfectly straight, a young man who looked about her age. A tailored and nicely pressed tux, lapels that curved out to make cat ears in the fabric, over a fitted vest. It had clock hands and golden embroidered metallic cogs lined down the front. Tailored pants matched the tux perfectly, a pop of red caught the eye on the bowtie around his neck. 

He would have been easily mistaken for a posh butler from a period piece if not for one teensy detail. 

Cat ears, peeking up and alert over the dark tufts of his short hair. His tail, poised up behind him, flicked a bit at the end. 

Going unnoticed by him, he continued what she assumed he was involved in prior to her calling him forth with the glasses. His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration as he whispered something to himself.

“Tick…tick…tick…” In his hushed voice, each word was perfectly spaced out like a metronome and he continued on.

Finding herself staring, she closed her agape mouth and wondered what to say. He clearly hadn’t noticed her, or if he did, she was being ignored. 

“Um, sorry, are you busy?” Her words came out quiet. His ear flicked toward her, his rhythm was interrupted. 

Clearing his throat he held up a pocket watch and gazed down at its surface. Amber, slitted eyes noted the time and flicked up to her. It was an irritated glare, emphasized with a crinkle of his nose. 

“Yes, quite busy.” He returned simply, shutting the pocket watch and placing it back into the pocket of his trousers. “My schedule had been interrupted, rudely disregarded. I take meditating on the beauty of time very seriously.” Each word was measured and precise. 

She hadn’t meant to be rude or to interrupt anything, so she started fiddling with her hands as she thought of how to respond. She might as well try to make amends, even though she didn’t think it was as bad as her clock was making it out to be. 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She said, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to um… disregard you. I’m sure your meditations are very important.” 

“Of the utmost importance,” He stated, matter of factly. “But I can appreciate an apology. You see, not many are as attuned to time as I am.” he stated, his disdain seemed to melt away, a small smile appeared on his face.

She was relieved, glad that this one mistake hadn’t completely soiled her first impression. 

“Going forward, punctuality is vital if you want to have blossoming relationships. If you can respect that, then I’ll overlook this little transgression of my time.” He informed with a pointed nod, holding a finger up as he spoke. 

“How kind.” She half meant it. She had said sorry, what more did he want? 

“I certainly try to be.” He smiled, her meaning going over his head, “If you want to speak with me, an appointment is required.” He emphasized his words with a flick of his tail. 

She tried not to stare, but she wondered how the tail was possible. With everything else that was out of her previous understanding of reality, she didn’t figure a man with cat features would trip her up, but part of her wanted to grab it to confirm that it was real. She doubted that would go over well. 

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her word. Oh, he wanted her to say something? What had he been talking about again? She had been distracted by his tail. Trying to think back, she thankfully recalled the last thing he said.

“Oh, an appointment.” She said aloud, gripping her hands together tightly. She was horrible with appointments, but this was in her own house so it couldn’t be that hard, right? “It makes sense, I guess. You do look like a VIP.” She mused aloud, cringing as he stared at her, his eyes wide. 

“If VIP stands for Very Intelligent and Punctual, then consider me guilty.” He pawed at the air as he laughed aloud, which reminded her of the way that old, rich women laugh at country clubs. A sensible chuckle, as she named it in her mind. She didn’t know if he was full of himself or just awkwardly trying to be funny, but she gave him back a forced smile. 

“So the appointment…” She began and he cleared his throat. 

“Yes, the appointment. It’s the only way I can meet with anyone on good terms, you surely understand?” His face gained back its seriousness after he laughed at his own joke. 

“I’ll have to write it down if I don't want to forget.” She offered, reaching to grab her planner off the table. 

Flipping it open to that day, she readied a pen over the notes section and wrote out: 

Appointment to meet-  

Before she blanked. 

“Did you tell me your name already?” She asked, half in politeness and half because she really didn’t remember if he had said his name. His eyebrows shot up and his mouth gaped in shock. 

“Oh sweet heavenly hours! How rude of me. I was so busy reprimanding you that it slipped my mind to make proper introductions.” He gave, shaking his head at himself. At least he recognized that he was being a little unfair to her. 

She watched as he folded one arm over his chest, the other behind his back, and bowed down, like a man about to be knighted. His tail swished behind him. 

“Timothy. Timothy Timepiece at your service.” He introduced, looking up at her from his lowered position. 

Bowing down like this brought him a bit closer to her, and she now noticed that between his words she could spot sharp teeth. If he wasn’t dressed so cutely, and had the demeanor that he had, she might consider him uncanny or frightening. And yet, even after he fussed at her, his looks were as endearing as the clock she brought home. 

After his bow, he straightened back up and adjusted his white glove from where it began to slip. 

“No need to introduce yourself, Elizabeth. I remember the day I met you clearly. It’s been two years, fifty eight days, and nineteen hours and twenty three minutes since you gave me a place above this kitchen.” He started, and she felt her heart sink in embarrassment. 

So he remembers. He’s been watching her this whole time too. She wondered what kind of things he would judge her for?

“And in that time, there’s not a moment that I can recount that you have followed that planner to the second.” He called her out, giving her a look of warning. 

Oh, there it was.

“Alas, there’s no time like the present, as I always say.” He chided, a small chuckle escaped him before he went on, “So please, Elizabeth.” His eyes widened as he stared into hers, “Don’t forget to abide by my schedule. Write it down, won’t you?” 

The coaxing voice felt like he was talking to a child, which she didn’t appreciate but it was better than being snapped at. The idea of being reprimanded over little time violations didn’t seem pleasant, but she didn’t want to be rude if he was expecting her. She could just say nevermind, as she did tend to put off things that were difficult to handle. However, she would be lying if she wasn’t a bit intrigued. Maybe he would be nicer to her when she showed up on time? And if for nothing else, she owed it to herself to try to make nice with her favorite object in the house. 

Faced with his pleading cat eyes, she relented.

“I’ll write it down, I won’t forget.” She agreed and he gave her a wide smile. 

“Excellent, I thank you.” He grinned, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon sharp. Not early, not late, at precisely twelve.” Noon? She felt like that was reasonable. 

“At twelve, got it.” She noted, writing down the rest into her planner. 

“Wonderful, I’ll see you then and not a minute after.” He said his farewell, giving her a little wave as she set the planner down to click the button on the glasses. 

As quickly as he was there, he just as quickly vanished. 

Staring at the spot that he was just occupying, she looked up to the face of the clock. It was the same clock as it had always been, the tail swung to and fro, the hands ticked, and the eyes rocked back and forth as it scanned the room. She never imagined that she would talk to it, to make an appointment to meet it someday. To be able to match a face and a voice to something like a clock was strange, and yet maybe she had been doing it with this particular clock since she got it. 

Before this, it was just her cute kitty cat that smiled at her from the wall. Liz had to be careful not to project that onto the person that the clock was. Maybe she had already? Sure, it wasn’t any fun being fussed at for interrupting someone when she had no knowledge prior that he was busy, but the conversation didn’t leave her feeling as rough as the other two. Was she projecting or was Timothy actually not that bad?

Having a set time also gave her something to look forward to, a well afforded break that she would take tomorrow after she tried to catch up on her work. 

Looking down at her planner, she frowned. It was embarrassing being called out for not being able to stick to her own plans. It had always been like that for her and she tried to get better about it. Despite the guilt she felt, she still didn’t bother opening her laptop again. No, she could consider this an off day. There was no way she’d be able to focus and the day was half over. It would be better just to start fresh tomorrow. 

Finding her own reasoning unarguable, she opened the fridge. Weird, she never felt this cautious about it but her freezer could be alive so she needed to be careful. Pulling out the ice cream, she decided to forgo the bowl and eat it straight out of the cartoon. There was only a little bit of ice cream left, so why bother. 

However, she did need a spoon. Careful with her drawer, she pulled a spoon from its contents and shut it softly. Taking a seat on her chair, she tried to ignore that she was seated on something that could potentially be able to perceive this. She also ignored the creeping idea that she was being judged for eating out of the carton, but did household objects even know about personal germs? 

Nope, she wasn’t going to think about it. 

Taking off the lid of the gallon, she peered down into the little bit of neapolitan ice cream that was left and tried not to be bothered by the fact she had already eaten all of the strawberry side. Dipping the spoon into the chocolate, she wondered if it would shiver if it could. 

Gross!

She didn’t want to acknowledge that. 

Bringing the spoon up to her mouth, she paused. Yummy ice cream, she tried to fool herself into focusing elsewhere. Despite this, she froze, unable to put the spoon in her mouth. Would it feel violated? The spoon’s purpose was to scoop up things and to be eaten off of but she still had her reservations. 

It’s just a spoon. 

Pushing through her disgust, she took a bite off the spoon, trying to focus on the chocolate flavor but it didn’t work. The only thing she could think about was how that poor spoon must have felt. Violated. Dirty. 

Yanking the spoon away, she wrinkled her nose up in disgust and tried not to choke on the ice cream and it went down. She gaged a bit and sputtered, laying the spoon down and holding her hands up as if to prevent touching anything else. 

Feeling like she needed a glass of water, she was stuck there too because the glass was to same as the spoon, she didn’t want to put it in her mouth. 

She stood up and began to spiral. Where does it end? What was conscious? Was the clothes she wore aware of being worn? How did it feel about it? Could the floor see up her skirt? Did it care? 

More thoughts spiraled around in her head and everywhere she looked it got worse. There wasn’t a place in her own home anymore that felt like she was safe, alone. She placed the dateviators onto the table and made her decision.

She had to get out of here. 

Fishing into the pocket of her skirt, she plucked her phone out and dialed her friend. Holding the device as far away from her face as she could, she listened for the click of the call being picked up. 

“Hey girl, how’s the downtime ?” The familiar voice of Sam asked. 

“Um, you know. It’s okay. I need to get out of the house for a bit. Is there any way you can meet me at the park?” She asked, trying to sound casual but her voice was strained. 

“Wow, you sound frazzled. Is it the assignments again? ” She asked and Liz had to think of what to say. She didn’t want to insult any of the objects by saying something like ‘hey my house and its contents are alive and I may have just assaulted my spoon so I need to leave before I have a meltdown’

“I’ll talk about it when I see you, if that’s okay?” she asked, hoping that Sam would have the time to meet her. 

“Oh, it’s something big. I’ll bring snacks, see you in thirty .” She offered and Liz nodded. 

“Thank you!” She gave before she hung up. 

Looking around, she spotted her purse and took it up, trying to avoid looking at anything for too long. Certainly, her purse wasn’t among those who could hear her, right? Disregarding that thought, she made her way to her door and pulled it tight, locking it and the house up for the time being.

Chapter Text

The cool surface of her kitchen table pressed against her cheek, her eyes trying to make sense of her sideways world. 

Going to the park, she met with Sam. At first, she didn't want to admit the problem as she didn’t need her friend thinking she had experienced some mental break or episode of psychosis. However, it didn’t take long for her friend to urge her to come clean. She explained everything she knew, which was so little. Her friend listened on, believing it to be a joke at first before her insistence convinced her. 

They had sat quietly before Sam said she was jealous. ‘Jealous?’, Liz had thought but her friend explained that having the opportunity to get to know those who have never had voices until now sounded exciting. It was profound, coming from her, the optimism seemed to bleed into her, if only just a little bit.

After their chat, Liz had returned home for the evening and left the glasses on the table for the night, deciding that she’d make the choice of whether or not to pick them back up again in the morning. Everything still felt weird, she still felt watched and judged, but now she cared a little less. The objects had already seen everything, at least she didn’t have to explain herself now. They knew her, lived with her, so she might as well try her best to make a better in person impression. 

And so, that morning she met her espresso machine. The woman was kind, playing the part of a barista and fixing her a delightful cup of coffee. Liz would be lying if she said she wasn’t a tad envious that Kopi was better at making a latte than she was. After having the coffee, she had ended her conversation and remained in the kitchen. 

Liz very well could have gone to her office or couch to work on her school projects, but she knew it would be harder to make that little appointment. If she was closer to the clock, it would be easier to remind herself that she had that plan, even if she had written it down. For her, out of sight was very much out of mind.

 It’s why she hung her keys on a nail at eye level next to her front door. 

The time was nearing and her plan to at least get a little work done had been fruitless. It had always been hard for her to work when she anticipated something else, like a phone call, later in the day. It would be okay, she’d just do it after talking with her clock, she told herself. 

Casting a glance at her laptop, there had been only minimal work done as she had picked at it, not really making any big decisions on her project and only doing nitpicky changes. The time was approaching noon quickly so she plucked up the glasses and placed them over her eyes. 

Getting up from the table, she pulled down her skirt and adjusted her clothes to make herself a little more presentable, straightening the bow she had pinned to her blouse. She didn’t know why she bothered when she was sure that this clock had seen her in hangover pajamas with a mess of hair tied up but she couldn’t think about that. It was about how she appeared now, not then. 

The hands on the surface of the clock moved closer to and closer to noon. Once it crossed the threshold, she took a deep breath. He was bound to be nicer to her this time, so there wasn’t any need to be nervous. Telling herself hardly helped, as she had been nervous with all of the items she talked too thus far. 

Trying not to get cold feet, she pressed the button on the glasses and was greeted by the same figure as yesterday. 

Timothy’s eyes were focused down at his golden pocket watch, this one looked different from the one he had the previous day, a little more ornate with a swirly design imprinted in the metal casing. He pursed his lips together, humming to himself a familiar tune. It was the jeopardy theme. She would have commented on it but he snapped the lid shut. 

“Almost late, almost.” He gave, placing the watch away. “Four seconds to spare.” 

“Oh, four seconds. If I was four seconds too late, would you not want to see me?” She asked. He shook his head and closed his eyes. 

“Indeed, it would have been an insult and I would not have accommodated it.” He stated, matter of fact before opening his eyes again, “You were, however, just in time.” His lips formed a smile and relief washed over her. 

“Oh good.” She responded, looking him over. He was dressed the same way as before, this time she could appreciate it a little more. It was something like she always wanted someone to wear with her out when she dressed up. Unless it was the harajuku fashion club she was in, she seldom saw anyone else dressed as elegantly. 

“Yes, well ahem .” He cleared his throat into his knuckles. She realized she had been staring. 

“Oh, sorry. Do you want to sit down with me?” She offered, already pulling a chair out to complete the gesture. 

“I would, thank you.” He returned, lifting his tail and having a seat, crossing his legs neatly as he did. 

She followed and sat down, trying to search for a conversation topic. She didn’t know what she could talk about that he would find interesting and the only other thing was to start asking questions. What would she even ask about? Hey, how is it being a clock? No, she didn’t think that was good. What percentage cat are you? That was even dumber. 

Luckily, she didn’t need to start. 

“I have prepared a little lesson of guidance for you today.” Timothy began, reaching his hand out expectantly to her, his palm upwards. She looked at his glove, the pink paw pads beckoned. 

Not knowing what he wanted, she did the only thing that came to mind. 

She placed her hand in his and his eyes went wide. He yanked his hand away and batted at hers with his other hand. 

“Not your hand, for cog's sake! Your agenda! How else am I supposed to make sure you’re on track?” He fussed, his eyebrows pinched forward in a mean look. 

Oh, duh. Feeling pretty stupid, she reached over and handed the pink book to him. He shot her a look before he opened it to the date. His amber eyes ran over the page as his frown deepened. His tail lashed as he shook his head in disapproval. 

“What’s wrong?” She inquired and he huffed to himself, placing the book down to the open page. 

“What isn’t? It’s all wrong. This is not how to write a proper agenda. First off, it’s far too vague. Each task is marked only with check mark boxes. They are in no order whatsoever and the only one that has an exact time written down for it is your reminder for our appointment today. This won’t do at all.” He poked at the pages with each point he gave her.

“I do the check boxes because it’s fun to mark off when I’m done.” She explained and he waved her off. 

“We can see how effective that’s been, Elizabeth.” He returned, pointing to one of her to-do’s with a claw, “What about this? You wrote; ‘Finish publication class typesetting homework.’ but it’s not marked off. How do you expect to finish something when you don’t have a precise starting time for your agenda item?” He asked, his ears twitched as he waited for an answer. 

“I don’t know, I was just going to do it after we talked.” She explained with a shrug. He gave her a pitying look.

“You don’t have the slightest idea how to accurately schedule your time, do you?” He asked and she fell silent. It wasn’t exactly that easy to do for her, it never had been. “No matter, I’ll just have to make an example for you.” 

With eyes filled with determination, Timothy reached into the inner pocket of his tux and plucked out a small, black, leather bound notebook, a pen nestled inside. 

“This is not exactly what I had in mind for our meeting, but this does fall under ‘providing guidance on the importance of a working agenda’ in my schedule.” He admitted, pulling the pen out and happily getting to work. 

He wrote away, his fast cursive scratching the page as he crafted out a schedule on the little page. Once out of room, he flipped to the next page and scribed the rest on there. As he worked, his slitted pupils widened a bit as his tail swished around. Ripping the paper out, he took both in his hand and laid them out for her, motioning for her to look. 

“Here we are, a perfect example of how you should have written your schedule!” He beamed, his sharp teeth peeked from his smile. 

“Thank you!” She gave before she looked at the beginning of the page. 

The handwriting was gorgeous, the fast script was legible but messy, each word flowed together at a tilt. The only problem was how the events played out. The schedule was made in increments of fifteen minutes, every task was broken up into these short blocks of time. It felt completely unrealistic, yet idyllic. Could she imagine if she could get each one of these blocks of time done, cementing in completion that segment of work. It wasn’t impossible but it felt impossible. 

This was like looking at a world record speed run route of a video game. 

And it was overwhelming. 

She looked up to find the expectant eyes of her clock, which gleamed in anticipation. 

“Well, what do you think? If you follow this to the minute, you’ll have all of your assignments finished by seven this evening if you begin directly after our conversation. It’s exciting, is it not? Why, I’m excited for you!” He chided. 

Timothy looked so satisfied with himself it was hard to argue. And yet, she thought taking the agenda and not using it would be more insulting than voicing her concerns. 

“Thank you, Timothy. This is really nice but…” She trailed off trying to think of how to word what she wanted to say. He tilted his head a little as he waited. “This schedule is too perfect. I can’t compare to this. Besides, what I’m working on is a creative project. It’s not always as cut and dry as it seems. There has to be room for creative changes.”

“That’s why I took the liberty of scheduling you five minute breaks every thirty minutes. Those are buffers for anything that seeks to derail you from your course, like a phone call or a bathroom break. I took into consideration your… imperfections when drafting this for you. It’s exactly what you need to have the most optimal use of your time.” He coerced, running his hands over the paper. 

It was ridiculous, but she didn’t have any other plans on how she was going to spend the evening. She might as well give it a shot, though she doubted it would be as perfect as the schedule he made for her. She didn’t exactly know what he meant by ‘imperfections’ but she assumed he meant her penchant for becoming distracted.

“Okay, I’ll try it but can you promise me something?” She asked, and he smiled at her.

“I’ll promise only what I find to be reasonable, but proceed.” He permitted. 

“If I don’t exactly complete this schedule the way you have it written, can you not judge me for it? Because I’m still not convinced all of this can be done this fast.” Her ask made him pause for a moment. 

“Well, as much as I think anyone with enough dedication to a schedule can succeed in keeping it, if you try your hardest to do this, you have my word that I won’t hold it against you.” With his promise, she felt a little better. 

“Okay, thank you.” She responded but he jumped back in. 

“However! Don’t think that you can use this as an excuse to disrespect my time. I will not tolerate any tardiness to my schedule, even if you cannot keep yours. Every day we’ll meet at noon sharp, unless otherwise scheduled. Not a second over or under.” His pinky finger was extended out to her as he gave her a dire look. “Do you promise me that?”

She wasn’t sure if he knew the pinky promise thing prior to her or if he had witnessed her doing it before, but she was glad that he was using the gesture. She held out her pinky to him and locked it with his, the soft cotton of his glove warm against her skin. 

“I promise.” With a small shake, it was done. 

It looked like her noons were tied up for the foreseeable future. 

“Well now…” He pulled his pocket watch out to glance at it. “We have five more minutes left of our scheduled time. What would you like to fill our time with?” His question came as he folded his hands on his lap. He watched on in polite interest as she mulled over what to say.

“One thing I thought about earlier, and I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve just never seen anyone like you before…” She starts, wondering if it’s too late now to say nevermind. 

“Yes, go on.” He permits. 

“I noticed you have claws. Are they part of your gloves?” She asks and he flushes, beginning to sputter as he curls his claws under his palms. His ears swiveled back, flat against his head.

“Well I- Why? Does it matter that I have claws? I’m no beast, I assure you!” He goes on the defensive, spouting out his words. She hadn’t meant to offend him. 

“No, no! I didn’t mean anything by it. I honestly think they’re cool.” She waves her hand trying to dispel the misunderstanding. He gives her a suspicious once over. 

“You think they’re… cool?” He asks, as if testing the last word. She nods in response. 

“Yeah, I do. Why, do you not like them?” She asks and he opens his palm, looking down at his claws. 

“That’s not it! I’m just surprised. I would rather be celebrated for my undeniable adherence to perfect timeliness, but I suppose I’ll take the surprising compliment on my appearance.” He concurred. 

“That’s without question. Of course you’re the most timely.” She appeased, “But you can celebrate your appearance too. The way you’re dressed is very nice, I wanted to say that earlier.” She continued. He perked up, a satisfied grin crossing his features. 

“I’m glad someone sees it. Yes, it’s true, I do take consideration into my appearance, but no one around here notices it, let alone appreciates it. That and my devotion to being on time get overlooked so often.” He assured himself and she continued to play along. 

“It’s a shame.” She says and Timothy beams.

“Yes! A shame it is. It means a lot, coming from you. If there is one thing I recognize you for being quick at, it’s putting together an outfit in that style of yours. You and your fellow fashion enjoyers seem to have a lovely time.” he paused before adding, “Even though your unplanned meeting agendas need a lot of care into perfecting.” 

“Oh, you see those?” She asked, now it was her turn to feel a little bashful. He complimented her, it felt nice.

“I have eyes, don’t I?” He smiles, gesturing at the clock. Letting out a giggle from his own joke, he studied the clock face. “ Ahem , which reminds me. Our time together is waning.” He took up from his seat, looking down at her. 

Those five minutes had gone by quickly. 

“Oh, it’s about time to go?” She asks and he nods. 

“Indeed, and it’s about time for you to start your new agenda.” He pointed at her, “Don’t you neglect our little promise.”

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.” She said and his smile deepened. 

“Wonderful. Until then…” 

“Until then.” she echoed back, reaching up to switch off the dateviators. 

Sitting in the emptiness of her kitchen, she looked down at the schedule Timothy had made for her. Picking it up, she looked over the words and realized that her time started a minute ago. She was already behind on the agenda he wrote for her.

Pulling open her laptop, she ran her thumb over her pinky, remembering the little promise. She’d try her best, even though she didn’t have much faith in herself. If nothing else, she felt a little warmer now, as though Timothy could be a friend in the future. He had been much nicer this time and had even helped her. Yes, it was help in a pushy and insulting way, but she had started her work up again and that was better than how her morning was going before this. 

And this time, the eyes of the clock looking down on her felt friendly instead of judgemental. 

Chapter Text

The past few days had been going okay. 

Liz was still not entirely used to the idea of all of the objects in her home being alive, but she had made more peace with it now. She had talked with a few others around her house, but it was a little hard since her meetings with Timothy all brought with them a new schedule. 

She’d meet with him, he’d hold his hand out, and she’d give him her agenda. He would write down a schedule for her and the rest of their fifteen minutes would be spent chatting. He shared with her that he was a collector, just like she was, but instead of harajuku fashion for him it was pocket watches. That explained why each time she saw him, he had a different one. After fifteen minutes, he would swiftly say farewell and disappear. 

It had only been a few days, but she wondered if it would always be fifteen minutes exactly. She didn’t question it, as she didn’t want to disrespect his time. However, when that time was over, she’d always find herself a little disappointed. 

She talked to the other objects around, but Timothy felt more personal. He helped her plan her time, pushed her to do better, and knew better than to listen to any excuses. The cat had no qualms with calling her out. Because of this, she had been more diligent with doing her work, as the idea that he was watching kept her accountable. Did she want to impress him? Was she afraid he’d be rude to her if she didn’t try? Was she trying to put on an ideal for herself to present to him? 

She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to focus on it too much. 

Timothy was kind to her, even when she took longer than his plan to complete her school work. He never judged her, just gave advice on what he thought would help her improve. And she always showed up right at noon. They were both keeping their promises. 

Today was no different. 

Sitting at the table with him again, she watched as he wrote down his perfect little schedule in her planner. He happily hummed to himself, the Jeopardy theme again. She wondered if he picked it up from the tv, but she never recalled watching Jeopardy.

Her stomach growled and the clock stopped. An ear perked in her direction.

Pressing her lips together, she gave him a nervous shrug as he looked back and began to write again. Another stomach growl. 

He paused, set the pen down and narrowed his amber eyes at her.

“Did you not eat breakfast this morning?” He inquired, tapping his claw on the table top. 

“I hardly ever eat breakfast. You should know that. I didn’t have time to eat lunch before I saw you.” She admitted and he frowned at her. 

“Yes, I know that. I haven’t written into this schedule time for you to eat both a breakfast and lunch sized feast.” Timothy began and she held her breath. Here he goes. 

“To neglect meal time is like throwing sand into the gears and cogs of a pocket watch. While the cogs may be able to continue turning for a little while, it will slow down and grind to a halt. When you’re weak from hunger, you cannot follow the demands of a schedule as efficiently as you need to, Elizabeth.” His analogy came and he held each word in high emphasis like he was quoting poetry. 

She noticed he used her name most when he was lecturing her. 

“You are… so dramatic.” She said, a little more comfortable with him now to be more honest.

“I am not! This is highly important! Now I have to rewrite the entire schedule.” He defended, his tail fluffing up, a pissy look on his face. He pulled the pages out and handed them to her. “Please dispose of these! I have to amend everything so that you can have time to eat.”

She took the paper as he wrote quickly, a sour expression on his face. She might have been mad or insulted, but she did find relief. Now she didn’t have to ignore the schedule to make herself something to eat after this. The paper went into the trash and she stood behind his chair, peering over his shoulder as he wrote. His ears were pulled forward in full attention. 

“Ahem , do you mind? You’re a distraction. I do not wish to be slowed down even more. Our chit-chat and playful banter time has been regrettably sliced in half.” He complained.

Not bothering to answer that, she sat back in her seat and watched him, a frown on her face. He was in such a good mood before.

“Timothy, can I ask you something?” Liz starts. 

“You may.” He allows, taking no pause from writing. 

“Do you want to spend more time together? Fifteen minutes is really short.” She asks. He halts for a moment, looking over to her with wide eyes. 

“I hadn’t considered that before. Not today of course, that wouldn’t do at all for my schedule… What do you have in mind?” He asked.

“What if we spend thirty minutes together? Or even an hour? We could have lunch together, make the agenda, and talk without feeling rushed? I don’t know how busy you are, but if you're game, I am.” She proposed. 

“I don’t know, an hour is a large block of time. We do have a lot that we could talk about. I wouldn’t have to schedule your lunch with the agenda.” He thought aloud. After a few weighted seconds of consideration, a laugh escaped him. “Since you kindly planned this in advance, I'll oblige you.” He grinned at her, continuing his writing. 

“So we’ll start tomorrow?” She asked for confirmation. 

“Exactly! With how much we’ve taken on, since you and I are getting more involved with planning your daily agendas. Planning more time for that is optimal. A brilliant idea, Elizabeth.” his compliment touched her. 

“I’m glad. I wanted to spend more time with you.” She admitted and he nodded.

“Yes, of course you do. These agendas have worked out so well for you. I’m honored to be a positive influence on how you plan your time.” He laughed, flashing his teeth at her. It was more like he planned her time how he wanted, but she didn't argue. There was something more important she wanted to get across. 

“Well, yeah but I also like spending time with you, just to talk.” With her words, his face flushed with color. 

“With me? Certainly, I’m an inspiration to be better at managing your time. Talking to me provides you all sorts of perspectives on how to be a more timely person, am I correct?” He babbles on and shakes her head. 

“Sure, but not entirely. I want to be your friend, you’re interesting to me. I just like to talk.” She clarifies. 

He pauses for a moment, looking down at the unfinished schedule he’s writing up. 

“You enjoy talking to me outside of helping you? Even about trivial little things?” He asks in confusion, his eyebrows lift up as he looks to her. His voice was quieter than his typical rhythmic chatter. 

“Yep. Sure do. I liked when you told me about your pocket watch collection and about how you think cuckoo clocks are inconsiderate. I’m not just being polite when I talk to you about this stuff, you know.” She tells him. He looked shocked. 

Had he thought she only hung around because she wanted him to help her with a schedule? 

If so, she felt a little sad. Not in a pity way, but because she wondered if he had any other friends. He hadn’t talked about any of the other objects in the house like the others did from time to time. In fact, he never brought them up except to set her apart from anyone else. Sure, he was a little much to handle sometimes, but she saw it as him being excited to share something he’s so passionate about.

Timothy offers her a warm look before he returns his attention back to his paper. 

“I’m really glad you shared that with me. We can talk about all types of friendly things and plans tomorrow. For now, this requires my full attention so I can finish it for you not a second too late.” With that, he began writing again and she fell silent once again as she waited. 

This time, when their time was up, it wasn’t so hard. She had tomorrow to look forward to.

It was 11:55

The aroma of last night's dinner reheated swirled about the kitchen, the spices mingling with the lemony acidic tang. 

She had made a cajun inspired salmon dish with lemon butter. During her cooking process, she decided to cook one more fillet, if nothing else as a gesture for her guest today. She wasn’t sure if Timothy could eat, still unsure of exactly what the dateviators did. Did the objects have organs? Intestinal tracts to process food? 

Liz didn’t know, but she was going to offer anyway. 

She had set the two plates down neatly, taking care to provide napkins and water. It wasn’t super fancy, but it was lunch anyhow. She had wanted to dress nice, even though today she felt more drained than she had recently, opting for a pink track suit with rhinestones that spelled out ‘Princess’ on the rear. It was comfy. 

Readying the glasses, she watched the hands tick over the threshold of noon and clicked the button. 

Timothy already wore a pleasant expression when she saw him, this time no watch was clutched in his hand. Usually, he timed her down to the second but this time…

She smiled at the realization that he trusted her. 

“Well, hello Elizabeth. On time as usual.” He greeted, “I’m beginning to think that my positive influence is-” He halted, sniffing the air, “What is that?” 

He tensed, on alert as he bristled a bit. For a moment she wondered if she had made a mistake before he sniffed the air again, his nose crinkled as he did. It was wonderfully cat-like. When his eyes settled on the plates, he gave her a puzzled look. 

“There’s one extra, are you expecting additional company?” He asked, his brows lowering for a moment of judgement. 

“No, just you. I thought it would be rude not to offer you lunch too.” She explained, pulling her chair out. “Besides, I wouldn’t invite someone over during our time.” 

Satisfied with her answer, he took his usual place at the table, looking down in confusion at the plated food. Sitting close to him, she studied his face and tried to hide her worry. 

“You can eat, can’t you?” She asked and he raised his eyebrows. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.” Timothy took up the fork and turned it around in his grasp, “Please indulge me, what is this thing called?” he asked as he poked the filet. 

“That’s salmon with cajun seasoning and lemon butter. The green stuff is pan seared spinach with garlic.” She explained before adding, “I understand if you don’t want the spinach. With you being a…well- veggies might not suit you.” She held her tongue on assuming that because of his cat ears he might be a carnivore.

“Cajun…” He tested the word. “You took the care to spend time doing this for me, so I’ll try to appreciate it.” Timothy took a bit of the salmon onto the fork and looked down at it, unsure. 

Liz could only imagine eating something for the first time if she had never eaten before. How strange must it be for him? 

He gave her a forced little smile, looking a tad pained as he brought the bite up to his mouth. Letting his tongue peek out, he licked the bite, tasting it for a moment. His look of confusion gave way to a strange look of concentration as he tried to decide if he liked it or not. After a second, he took the bite and chewed on it carefully. 

“What do you think? If you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.” Liz offered, he swallowed and looked back down at the salmon, a small grin on his face. 

“It’s, how do I phrase this? It’s not like anything I’ve ever experienced, however it is surprisingly pleasant.” He chose each word carefully, before adding. “I think I quite like it.” 

“Oh, good. You had me a little worried.” She admitted, a nervous laugh escaped her. 

He picked up another bite and tasted this one a little more confidently before he continued. Satisfied, she too began to eat her lunch. It wasn’t long and they had both finished. Timothy surprised her by eating the spinach with no fuss, so the theory that he was a carnivore was dispelled. 

Taking the plates, she set them in the sink basin for later and sat back down. She noticed something, a keen eye for stains as her wardrobe was full of pastel clothing. On the side of Timothy’s white glove, there was a little red stain from the seasoning. 

“Oh no, your glove.” She said, drawing Timothy’s attention down the side of his hand. 

“Oh good gears and cogs! I’ve never sullied myself so.” He whined in disappointment, inspecting the stain in concern. She offered out her hand. 

“Here, let me have them. I have some really good stain removal spray, it’ll come out after a wash.” Her proposal caused him to clutch his own hands together protectively. 

“That’s sincerely a kind offer, but it would be improper for me not to have my gloves.” He warned, unrelenting as she urged him to hand them over. 

“I don’t mind. I’ll give them back as soon as they’re washed, so you don’t have to go long without them.” Her promise didn’t sway him and he shook his head defiantly. She didn’t understand what the big deal was. If it was that important, shouldn’t he have spare gloves?

“I do not have my schedule set up for that.” He responded stubbornly, his hands still curled in on themselves. 

“Okay, then I’ll give them back tomorrow. I promise I’ll take care of them.” She tried to assure him. He gave her a withering look. 

“It’s not that I find you untrustworthy or that I think you would have any issue with cleaning them…” He began and she watched on.  “My hands are… well, to put it concisely-.” He was stuck in his floundering to explain. 

“You have cat paws, don’t you?” She guessed and he bristled, his tail puffing up. 

“Not exactly!” He corrected, “They are simply not hands like yours. They are, for lack of a more precise word, sensitive. I keep them covered for my own comfort.” With his confession, she lowered her hand. 

Thinking about it, she never saw him without the gloves. Liz thought and tried to find a solution in her own closet, to try and recall if she had any gloves in her collection. Only having silk opera gloves or lacey mesh gloves, she didn’t know if he would be sensitive to those materials. 

“Oh, I see.” She mused aloud, “How sensitive are they? Could you go a little while without them? It can’t be helped now, but I’ll get you some more gloves in case this happens again.” She asked and his demeanor lightened, his tail’s fur began to lay flat. 

“I could go the evening without them.” He agreed softly, looking down at where he protected his hands. 

“Okay, then let me see them. I need to spray that stuff on them sooner than later.” She urged, holding her hands out. 

He gave her a weak smile and pulled at the fingers of his gloves, plucking them off. Sure enough, the claws she had seen on his gloves had come through the fabric, the dark color going all the way into his nail bed. Most interesting, the palm and under sides of his fingers were a darker color, the texture looking more rough than the rest of his tan skin. They were like paw pads, but not separated and coating the entirety of the bottom of his hand as though he dipped it in ink.

Trying not to stare to be polite, she let him drop the gloves into her palms, as though he couldn’t stand the chance of touching her.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” She promised, clutching the gloves into her grasp.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” He said in a hush. 

“You know, you can call me Liz if you want. It’s what my friends call me.”  She offered, as she got up from her seat. His eyes widened and he nodded. 

“But Elizabeth is such an elegant name. What do you want me to call you? I’ll respect your wishes.” His ask made her pause for a moment. 

“Call me whatever you want to.” She gave his permission, before she stepped away into the laundry room. 

Quickly spraying the stain remover on the gloves, she rubbed them together to work the solution through them. In this, she noted that the finger tips were sewn with little openings for his claws. It was cute, so cute. She didn’t want to tell him that, since he already seemed on edge about her taking his gloves. Instead, she smiled and placed them in a small container and covered them in water to sit. This would be good until she got back to do the rest. 

Returning to the kitchen, she found Timothy sitting there, his hands tucked under his arms. He looked up at her, looking down to her pants and back to her eyes. 

“By the way, if you will. Could you care to explain what is princess-like about having the word ‘Princess’ on your backside?” 

This caught her off guard and she erupted into laughter. 

He crinkled his nose at her outburst. 

“What’s so funny? It just doesn’t say regal to me.” He defended and she took a few breaths to calm down.

“You got me there. It’s more of a ‘Princess because I’m spoiled and bossy’ message, get it?” She explained, taking her seat back next to him. 

“You’re not anything like that, Liz.” He gave and she raised her eyebrows. He seemed to taste the nickname in his mouth and he made a face, “No, no. It’s unnatural. I prefer Elizabeth. Of course, please don’t take that as any indication of me disregarding our friendship.”

“I agree, I like when you call me Elizabeth better. It’s grown on me.” She admits, even though in the past the only time she heard it was from professors or when she was a child and had gotten into trouble. 

Glancing up at the clock, their time was half over. 

“Thirty minutes left.” She informed and he shook his head. 

“Twenty nine, actually.” He corrected, his hands still tucked away. It seemed he didn’t even need to look at one of his watches to know the time. Did he do it for show? 

“I guess we should make a schedule.” She mused and he perked his ears up

“You guessed correctly.” He brought a hand up to grab for the pen, stopping in hesitation when he realized that he was still gloveless. 

Noticing this little hurdle for them, she grabbed the pen and clicked it.

“Here, let me. I’ll write it down today.”

Chapter Text

“You want to meet at three instead?!” 

Liz was a little embarrassed that she had forgotten the plan she made. It had been set a month and a half in advance and it still slipped her mind. A happy message from one of her would be guests reminded her and she began to panic. One of her harajuku fashion meets was scheduled for tomorrow, and she had forgotten it entirely. 

Now, she sat with Timothy during one of their newer hour long appointments. It had been nearly a week since they began these longer lunch length meetings. Trying not to insult his schedule at all, she had made her appeal. 

“Please, Timothy. This is my fault. If you wait till three, I’ll save you some cookies and tea.” She urged, her hand placed together in a pleading gesture. He had his arms folded with a pout on his face, not bothering to look at her. 

“Your poor scheduling has led to this exact scenario. I should refuse so that you know the consequences of not keeping up with your agenda.” He turned his nose up, eyes shut. “However, I do want to try these ‘cookies’ as you call them. It will be difficult for me, but I cannot waver.” He added, her dark manipulation in the form of sweets threatened to sway him. 

“Please. Our schedule can go right back to normal after tomorrow.” She could play back, giving her best puppy dog face. He peeked at her from one of his eyes and sighed. 

“Very well. Three on the dot, I will not forgive you if you're late.” He warned. Timothy tried to continue to act bothered, but she saw through it. She was beginning to be able to read him quite well. 

“I knew you couldn’t refuse cookies and tea.” She teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair a bit. He swiped at her, missing as she pulled her hand away. This time, he just snapped at her instead of doing what he did last time, an honest to goodness ‘ mrreow ’. 

“You stop that!” He fussed, reaching up to straighten his hair again, his ears popped back up from under his hands. 

She laughed, not offering an apology as she knew it wasn’t a big deal. If he really cared, he’d tell her. Maybe she was getting a tad comfortable with him, but it wasn’t a bad thing. 

Satisfied, she began to schedule all the baking she had to do under the watchful critiquing eye of Timothy. 

The kitchen was a swirl of colors. 

With five guests, it was a tad crowded, especially with the two guests with lolita fashion. Their petticoats took up a lot of space, their dresses almost seemed to float. Another guest, in the same sweet otome style clothes that Liz wore, began piling their plate with sweets. They helped the guest in gyaru fashion, who had trouble picking up the tongs with her long, decorated leopard print nails. Juxtaposed with the collection of pastels was one girl in visual kei, the tattered dark clothes, fishnet, spikes, and heavy makeup was set apart from the others. She was waiting patiently to fix her plate. 

One guest was running behind.

Soon enough, she made her way into the kitchen, having let herself in. She stopped in the doorway, pausing to let everyone see her outfit. A familiar lolita fashion piece adorned her. Its grey color a dull backdrop for the pops and pink and purple on the prints. They all knew this dress, as this girl never shut up about it. 

“Cat’s Tea Party!?” Cass called, the one in otome styled clothes. 

“Yes! I got it. Six failed auctions and it’s mine!”  Vanessa shrieked, joined by the other two in lolita fashion. 

They held hands in a circle and jumped in sync as they celebrated with little screams. Liz was sure her kitchen would love her loud quests, deciding to apologize later to anyone disgruntled by it. 

“Well, well. Got your dream dress.” Gigi said through a mouth full, her long nails tucked over a scone. “And it’s Angelic Pretty too. Should I bow?” She mocked, earning a harsh look back from the girl in the spotlight. 

“I can’t help that you didn’t get your precious vintage Juicy Couture bag to go with that kogal outfit.” She returned, dropping the hands of the other two, who looked back at the gyaru. 

“Actually, it’s agejo. You'd know that if you did any research on something other than AP.” She blinked back at her in a deadpan, her overdrawn eyes holding the other’s gaze. Speaking up from the corner, the one in darker fashion spoke up, her sweet voice didn’t match the edgy look she wore. 

“How much did it cost, this seventh time?” Alexis asks, messing with her chrome hearts rings. 

“I uh… well it was a good deal.” Vanessa started and Lance shook his head, his mini hat threatening to fall. 

“Lemme guess, several hundred dollars.” He said and Vanessa cringed as though she had been struck. Giving a nervous laugh, she shrugged. 

“It’s a dream dress. What can I do?” The sweet lolita excused and Tilly spoke up. 

“True, not all of us can be lucky enough to find Liz Lisa at the thrift store, huh Lizzy?” She joked, pointing a silk clad finger at her. 

“You can’t blame me for my luck in the thrift stores.” Liz responded. “I have to be frugal, I can’t drop five hundred on Cat’s Tea Party like Vanessa can.” Her friend looked shocked and gave an exaggerated gasp at how she knew the price, but everyone in there knew how much those dresses went for second hand. 

“Okay, miss ‘getting a second degree’.” Vanessa retorted, earning a snort from Lance.

Gigi had already taken a seat at the table, snacking away off her plate. She turned her made-up gaze towards Liz and swallowed a bite. 

“Speaking of school, are you crashing and burning yet? It’s about time for midterms, right?” She asked with a mischievous look. She was always one to share gossip. 

“Actually, I’m doing just fine this semester.” Liz bragged, earning a distrusting look from a few of the others. 

While it was true that she had shared her many, many troubles of keeping up in class with them, they didn’t have to show that they had this much lack of faith in her. 

“Oh yeah, what changed?” Lance asked, moving to tuck his petticoat under him as he sat down at the table. 

“I’ve actually begun to follow a pretty tight schedule so it’s helped a lot.” Liz admitted, a little embarrassed knowing that Timothy was right there on the wall listening in. 

The room erupted into laughter, only one not laughing was Tilly, who looked around in confusion. That girl had a daydreaming habit, so likely she didn’t hear what was going on. 

“You, a schedule? Please, that’ll last like what, another month?” Vanessa cackled, earning a frown from Liz. Gigi frowned and spoke up, tapping her nails on the table.

“It’ll last longer than every paycheck you get.” Gigi called her out, taking a sip from her glass of tea. That earned a mean look from the other girl. 

“Do you like… actually follow the schedule or do you just write them down. Because you do this every few months.” Cass asked, placing their plate on the table. 

“I follow it. Not perfectly, but I’m close enough.” Liz explained, her cheeks feeling warm. 

“Well, I think it’s a good idea. It’ll keep us from being summoned again at finals, like when you got us to help with that scrapbooking project you had due in a day.” Alexis pointed out, but the reminder didn’t ease any of the guilt. 

“Hey guys, change of topic please.” Lance spoke up, noticing how Liz was beginning to get a little frazzled. When the roasts began, she could always count on Lance. 

After the initial, chaotic start to their meeting, they eventually all settled down around the table. They chattered on, all sharing updates about their lives, about projects they wanted to do or start, about the new fashion pieces they had collected. It was good conversation, something that was very easy to get lost in for hours. 

Typically, Liz didn’t care what the time was, but she kept looking over to the clock on the wall. She promised Timothy she’d meet him at three and she meant it!

“So Liz, how about you?” Cass brought up, focusing the attention on her. 

That’s right, they were talking about recent hook ups, relationship issues, and in Tilly’s case, a breakup. 

“Oh, nothing so far. I’ve been busy with school and I’ve just been hanging around the house.” Her answer didn’t really satisfy the others, as they had all had something to share. 

“Well, with that new job of yours not really panning out, I thought you’d have more time. Peruse the old dating app, you know?” Vanessa pushed and Liz shrugged. 

“Sorry to disappoint, I’ve just been busy.” Her response came and Gigi perked up, snapping. She was impressed she could do that with those nails. 

“I know! There’s this guy I met in one of the online gyarou spaces. He’s really nice and I think he’s laid back and chill. No one crazy, I promise.” Gigi offered, already pulling her phone out, which was so weighed down with charms and a decoden case that it was like an icing covered brick. She typed away and turned it towards her, holding it from across the table for her to see. 

Liz studied the picture for a moment. Teased hair, denim vest, lots of belts, spray tan. 

“He does look cool but… I don’t know, I really just want to focus on school right now.” Liz remained firm. She just didn’t have the energy or time for dating right now. 

“I’m not asking you to marry him. Just a little fun, someone to take your mind off your school work.” Gigi rolled her eyes, relenting to the prying eyes of the others around the table and passing her phone around. 

“Thanks Gigi, but I’m okay. I’ll let you know when I’m looking and we can go together.” Liz assured. 

“You better.” She returned a mean look for a moment, taking her phone back from Tilly, whose eyes clinged to the image.

“Well, I'm dying to tell you guys about this guy I met downtown last week. “ Lance began to explain. 

They all listened and the remainder of their meeting came to a close. They all took their plates to the sink, cleaned up, and began taking photos. It was a must at any fashion meetup, even one as casual as this. 

They passed each other’s phones around, snapping pics with each other, some all together, some with specific friends. There at the end, Vanessa looked at her dress, which showcased a table of cats at a tea party. She then looked up at the vintage clock, its tail swinging back and forth. Looking over to Liz, she handed her phone over. 

“It’s perfect, don’t you think? Cat themed dress with the cat clock in the background? It’ll be perfect for my socials.” The woman laughed, already posing beneath the clock. 

“Yeah, it’ll be super cute. Hold still.” Liz responded, a little guilty for taking a shot with Timothy in the background. There’s no plausible way she could refuse Vanessa. Taking a few snaps, she looked down to investigate and they all looked cute so she handed off the phone. Vanessa gave a quick thanks. 

“I’ve always liked that clock. You got it from that antique place near main street, right?” Tilly asked, coming over to gaze up at its shiny surface. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Liz supplied and Tilly pursed her lips. 

“Do you think they’d have any more? I’d want to buy one, paint it white, and make its bow pink. That would look so cute in my house.” The woman thought aloud. 

“I don’t think so, Till. I’ve been back to the store several times and I’ve only seen this one.” She responded and the girl frowned. 

“If you ever get sick of it, sell it to me! I’d love to have it.” Tilly urged, her eyes sparkled at the thought of taking her beloved clock and painting it pink. 

“Come on Tilly, it’s a long ride back.” Lance said, ushering her along. She complained a bit but went on. 

That’s right, they should all be clearing out. 

The next thirty minutes was stressful as could be. Trying to urge a group of very talkative people from your home in a time crunch was hard to do. Especially when a lot of them were prone to losing bows or wristcuffs. 

Of course, after a lot of struggle, she was able to do it with a few minutes to spare. 

Ignoring the dishes in the sink, she took some cookies and the scones that Cass left, placed them neatly on a plate, and prepared fresh tea. She took the dateviators from the counter top and put them on. 

She stood in front of the clock, waiting until the final moments before three passed. In honesty, she was pretty drained from the morning’s events, but she promised Timothy she’d see him. 

On cue, she brought him forth. He gave her a smile, one of his watches in his hand. It had pawprints etched into the silver surface. She hadn’t seen this one yet. 

“I was a little concerned that you wouldn’t make it, but here we are.” He offered, his voice mirthful.

“I promised, didn’t I? I have more than cookies too.” She informed him, waving him over to have a seat at the table.

Giving her a warm look, he sat down with her and she poured his tea into the cup. It was part of the nicer set that she kept for parties like this. 

“Here’s cream and here's sugar. Help yourself.” She said, taking a sip from her glass. 

It was a warm, smooth earl grey that she loved. He stirred his fixings into the tea, setting the spoon down on a napkin. Since last time, he had been much more careful not to soil his gloves, almost handling things as though they might bite him. Of course, she had found some similar cotton gloves. They were a tad big, but it worked out better that way since they didn’t have openings for his claws. They were stored away just in case he needed them again. One day, she might try her hand at altering the gloves for him, but her confidence in making the job look neat and tidy was at a minimum. He deserved the best, and she wasn’t there with her hand sewing skills. 

He took a long, relishing sip of the tea, looking over the rim of the cup at her. Setting it down with a soft clink, he paused. 

“This one is different from the other tea you prepared for me. Tell me, what is it?” He inquired, his eyes focused on her as she answered. 

“It’s earl grey. It’s made with bergamot oil, which is a type of Italian citrus.” She explained and he hummed in response. 

“It’s delicious. I think the bergamot flavor is my favorite thus far. But only time will tell if it’ll last as his favorite.” He paused, his little joke didn’t go unnoticed. She gave him a little laugh, more or less laughing about a thought she had. 

Now this was how a tea party was supposed to go, not some roast and gossip session from her friends who wanted to make a jab at everyone else. Of course, she loved their company and their humor, but sometimes she wished their tea parties were more like this. Heartfelt, personal, maybe a little bit more quiet. 

“Try the cookie. I think they turned out very well this time.” She prompted him, eager to see what  he said. She knew that with regular cats, the chocolate would be toxic. However, on their lunch breaks together he’s tried a lot of things that cats wouldn’t normally be able to have and been just fine. 

He sunk his teeth in and tried it, making a delighted sound as he chewed. After a moment, he sat the rest of the treat down and thought about it, his tail swishing behind him.

“Hm, the chocolate is bitter but also sweet. I like their harmony.” He decides, taking another sip of the tea. 

“I’m glad you like it.” She responded, looking at the clock. She realizes they never specified if she’d be with him for an hour or not. She assumed an hour, because she had to move their meeting to three, but neither of them actually clarified. 

“Your friends are… amusingly lively.” Timothy started. “I can’t help but wonder if the parties would go a little more smoothly with a planned meeting agenda.” His idea came, and while on paper it was a fine idea, she didn’t think she could control the horde of them like that. 

“Maybe. I don’t know, I think the messiness is sometimes part of the fun with them.” Her defense of them did nothing for him. 

“Even though they were being quite mean to you?” He asked and she tried not to wince. 

“It’s just jokes, it’s how we all get along.” She assured and he raised his eyebrows, as if trying to look through her words. 

“Well, I wouldn’t like it if my friends treated me in such a way. I think friends should be respectful of each other's wishes and desires, not dismissive.” He advised, taking another bite of cookie before adding, “And I certainly hope my friends wouldn’t entertain the idea of selling me.” 

“I didn’t entertain anything. You don’t think I’d do that, do you?” She asked, playing with the rim of the teacup. “I couldn’t sell you, I’d miss you too much.” Her addition had his face blossom with color. 

She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, but she didn’t want him to think that there was any chance that she was going to just up and sell him, especially not to Tilly. Her friend replaced things in her home with the fads and would likely get bored of the clock after a few months. Of course, Tilly would never know that the clock had soul like Liz did. Despite her love for the object that she bought, if she didn’t know about Timothy or any of the others, would she have sold him for the right price? It was strange to think of what circumstances that led to her sitting with him now, enjoying his company. Circumstances so fragile that the dateviators breaking or disappearing could shut that door forever.

The thought haunted her, made her feel a little sick. No, she’d try to hold onto these glasses as long as she could, doubtful that she would ever give them back to the stranger who flung them at her if they asked. 

She’d never sell Timothy and even if the glasses broke, she’d never forget him. She would be that crazy woman talking to her clock just so that her friend knew that she still cared. She was too far gone now and she couldn’t just go back to normal life after this. 

Timothy cleared his throat and set the cookie down. 

“I’m certainly glad. I’d miss your company too. None of the others around here can appreciate the carefully planned time that we share.” He gave with a smile, “And I for one-”

He was interrupted. Not by Liz, but by the interloper who appeared in the kitchen. 

Gigi. 

“Where is it? Liz, my clutch bag was just-” The gyaru stops in her tracks, her eyes locked on the figure with her. A moment of shock and silence is shared among all three of them before Gigi clicks her tongue. 

“Um, Gigi, I-” Liz began to flounder but the woman shook her head. 

“No, no. I get it now.” She places her hands on her hips, her nails clinking against the multitude of belts decorating her. “No, don’t tell your friend that you already have someone in your bed when I shared that embarrassing story about that goth girl that I fumbled last week.” She gave in a high pitched, mocking voice. 

“He’s a friend.” Liz stated in defense. 

“Oh yeah? Then why wasn’t he invited to the tea party, huh? If he was just a friend, then why hide him? I know you, Liz, you only hide your fuck buddies.” Her friend’s line of questioning wasn’t wrong, just impossible to refute without telling the truth and sounding like a nutcase. 

“I beg your pardon! That’s no way to-” Timothy began and Gigi snapped her fingers at him. 

“Zip it, neko mimi!” She silenced him, stepping around the table to find her clutch bag. Timothy was taken aback and all Liz could do was rub her temples. She cast a glance at Timothy, who looked dumbstruck, his ears flattened against his head. It was obvious that her friend hadn’t noticed that they were real and just took his ears for accessories.

“Look, Gigi. You know that I don’t invite just anyone to these tea parties. I’m in the vetting process.” Liz explained, while it wasn’t entirely true, the idea of Timothy joining them for a party was appealing, if it was even something he wanted to do. 

“More like taking backshots.” She grumbled, plucking up her forgotten bag. “If that’s the case, I better see him at the next one.” 

“Gigi-” Liz began, only to be interrupted as though she hadn’t spoken at all. 

“That’s one vote of approval from Gigi so you better wear something cute.” She addressed Timothy directly, pointing a finger at before she reached down and swiped a scone off his plate. “And make some cannolis to bring. Then maybe I’ll forgive your friend for not sharing.” She mumbled through a bite, heading towards the front door. 

“Bye, Gigi!” Liz called as the gyaru disappeared from the view of the kitchen. 

“Whatever, shlut!” She called back, her voice lisped through her mouthful. 

The sound of the front door closing echoed into the silence between her and the clock. 

With a glance over to him, she was rewarded with a pointed glare and angry twitching ears. She covered her face and took a deep breath as she slumped into the table. 

“Sorry, Timothy.” She muttered but it only broke the tension and allowed him to start in on the situation. 

“Your friend was way out of line. Interrupting our time, aggressively jumping to conclusions. Insulting me! Insulting you! Why I- how dare she call you slut and me this ‘neko mimi’ insult.” the clock sputtered, his pupils retracted into a slit in his anger. 

“I’m sorry, again. To be fair, neko mimi is just referring to your ears. She thought you were wearing a head band.” She responds, halfheartedly explaining so that her friend didn’t read into it too hard. She turned her head on the table to look up at him, as he slapped his hands over his ears. 

“Who would ever wear ears like this on purpose?” He asked, his voice strained. “Besides, she interrupted us. It’s simply unforgivable. There’s no room for surprises like that in my schedule.” 

“It was pretty rude that she stole your scone too.” Liz acknowledged, sitting up from her slump and studying the table. 

“Exactly! Why do you keep such company who disrespects you and your friends?” Timothy highlighted and she felt her heart sink a bit. She didn’t think that way of Gigi and she didn’t want him to either. 

“She’s funny. When you get to know her, she just has a rough exterior.” she answered, pouring more warm tea into the cup Timothy had finished. “Kinda like you?”

“Me? I’m never rude. I’m positively respectable in all manners, especially timeliness.” His response came with closed eyes and turning his nose up.

“No, I mean the rough exterior thing.” She clarified, sliding the cup towards him. His eyes flicked down towards the cup before a look of confusion crossed his face. 

“I don’t understand what you mean. Do you not like visiting with me?” His question lingered for a moment. 

No, that’s not what she meant at all. Pausing for a moment, she thought of how to phrase it. She owed him honesty as he was her friend and she wanted to be truly transparent with him. 

“If I didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be here with me, silly. It’s just that you have a very strong personality. I like it now, but if I hadn’t given it a chance, I could have seen you as rude too. If I hadn’t scheduled that first visit with you, I would have got the impression that you hated me or that you judged me for who I was.” She admitted, tracing circles around the rim of her tea cup.

“You thought I hated you?” He blinked, his tail flicked against his leg. “Elizabeth, why would you think that?” His voice was low, a contrast to his previous bold tone.

“Well, it’s as you first said. I had no idea how to manage my time. I still don't, really. I’m just putting in a lot of effort. I was afraid you’d begin to see through me and start to hate me if I wasn’t perfect.” She hated to admit it, feeling like it was a secret. It was a little embarrassing to be honest like this but she felt like it needed to be said. 

“I don’t understand how you would have gotten that impression from me. I was willing to put you on my schedule." The cat shook his head, slowly, a sullen expression as he considered his own impressions of her. 

“I can appreciate that now, but like Gigi, if I hadn’t tried to understand you, I could have felt the same way you do about her. Although stealing your scone was a bit much.”  She explained and then took his hand. He tensed a bit but didn’t pull it away. “To Gigi, not telling her things and keeping things from her would be like if I were to show up late to one of our meetings, Timothy. I’m the one who messed up.” 

“I think I get it.” He mused, looking down at the surface of the table, “If you showed up late, I believe I would act out of sorts as well. To anyone who doesn’t understand my affection for timeliness, I imagine it could seem rude to them.” 

She nodded and he gave her a smile. 

He looked away, his tail swishing as he considered it. He puffed up his cheeks before closing his eyes with a sigh. 

“I suppose I can overlook it. We are still on time, afterall, and it wasn’t you who interrupted us. I’ll just have to make sure that this Gigi understands how important it is to plan every appearance when next we meet.” His mood had shifted. 

“That’ll go over… um, interestingly.” Liz offered, trying to imagine what Gigi would do if someone started trying to manage her time for her. It couldn’t go well. “Speaking of that, she’s going to be expecting you at the next tea party. They all will be because she’s a talker.” With her reminder, he blinked at her. 

“I would like to attend, if that’s what you’re intending to ask.” The clock confirmed, “However, I cannot be expected to attend a party with no agenda.” He warned, squeezing her hand. She had forgotten that she had grabbed it. 

A glint in his eye glimmered as he leaned forward and stared her down. 

“I can count on you to make an agenda, can’t I? If you don’t, I’ll be happy to do it myself. Every party must follow a path that everyone can find comfort in, and your next party will have one or I won’t attend. Your Gigi won’t like that.” He smiled wide, his teeth showing. Why did it feel menacing? 

Glad to have his playful self back with her, she gave a small laugh. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll plan it. Though, I’m not letting you touch it.” She reached her finger out to boop his nose, earning a swat from him as he dropped her hand. 

“I would argue that I would make a far more pleasing schedule, but for you and your friends, something more dawdling in its pace would be better suited.” He pointed out. 

“Now you’re being mean.” She rejected, “We take our time, we don’t ‘dawdle’. Maybe you should take your time too.”

“Only if it’s scheduled.” He stated matter of factly, “The only way to enjoy unscheduled time is to schedule the time that is unscheduled.” He said as though reciting a parable. 

She shook her head at him, trying not to laugh at how weird that statement was. The reasoning made her dizzy, but at least this told her one thing. Maybe she could ask him to spend some time with her that was unscheduled, if she asked ahead of time. 

“You’re right. Maybe we should do that sometime.” 

“Perhaps we can. For now, you have some things to plan for yourself.” Timothy directed the conversation into what she assumed was his favorite part. Planning an agenda. He pulled the black notebook from his pocket and placed it in front of her expectantly.  “Before we begin, I do have one question.” 

“What’s that?” She asked. 

He gave her a look of concern as if wondering if he should ask before spitting it out, catching her completely off guard. 

“What are ‘backshots’?” 

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since the tea party and the exhaustion was catching up to Liz.

Every day, she met with Timothy and allowed him to plan some grand schedule of events for her to strive for to complete her school projects. It was getting to be a little too much for her. It wasn’t working on her projects that was too much, and truth be told he was very good at planning things out and allowing time for breaks between tasks, but it was just the nature of working for her. 

ADHD burnout was beginning to set in.

No matter if she tried her best to avoid it, took medication, or pushed through, eventually the burnout would find her. A part of her dreaded talking to Timothy today. Thinking about being urged to complete school projects and essays that she didn’t want to think about, let alone touch, already exhausted her. In truth, it crossed her mind not to talk to anyone today, to leave the dateviators on her bedside dresser and curl up. 

Yes, that’s what she wanted to do. She wanted nothing more than to curl up and forget her responsibilities, to relax and let the day dwindle away as she busied herself with movies, video games, and whatever else she could do to keep her attention.

But a promise was a promise, and it was one she couldn’t stand if she broke. 

The idea of letting her friend down was even worse than the idea of how he might sap her energy.

Today, she remained in comfy clothes, a cami and sweatpants, and her slippers. She claw clipped her hair up and decided to leave her laptop in her office. It was going to be a relaxing day, if she had to force it to be. 

So when she brought Timothy out, she didn’t linger by the kitchen table. There was no agenda sitting out or lunch planned to eat. Instead, she had snacks lined up and a blanket around her shoulders. 

He gave her a puzzled look, sensing that the energy was off. 

“Hey Timothy.” she greeted sheepishly. 

“Are you sick?” He asked bringing his hands close to him as though afraid to touch her. She shook her head and made a step towards the living room. 

“No, I just want to do something different today. Would you mind sitting on the couch with me?” She asked, motioning him along. 

Not bothering to wait for an answer, she went ahead and trekked towards the living room. The title screen of a game shown on the television screen illuminated the space, dim from curtains drawn closed. She plopped down on her spot, sinking back into the couch as she left room for the clock to have a seat. 

He stood there, looking from her to the title screen. Taking note of her expectant look, he sat down on the couch next to her. It was humorous, the clock looking out of place among the soft pillows and blankets, the black tux and gloves didn’t scream comfort. He sat straight on the couch, much like he would at the kitchen table, placing his hands on his knees as his tail curled neatly by his legs. 

Offering him a pillow, shifted around to find more coziness in her blanket. He took it, placing it to the side of him, against the arm of the couch. 

He really didn’t look all that comfortable. She wondered if his clothes had anything to do with it or if he felt out of place on the couch. Or maybe he wanted to know why they were on the couch, when every other time she had ever met him it had always been in the kitchen. 

“It’s couch day.” She offered an explanation unprompted. He tilted his head at her, amber eyes studying her for a moment. 

“Meaning?” He asked. 

“It’s a scheduled day of unscheduled time. No schedule today except to not have one.” She informed and he crinkled his nose at her. 

“That is not how that works. Did you put this in your agenda?” He looked around for the pink book, to find it nowhere. Finding it absent, he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“I didn’t, it’s a plan I made in my head.” She informed, and he shook his head in disapproval. 

Again, that dread crept up and she wanted to find a way to hide from it. His disappointment in her only made her heart sink and made her feel much worse. Part of her wished she had just not met with him at all if this was how it was going to be, but she pushed that thought way. No, she needed to be an adult and be honest. If he was going to disapprove of her, so be it, but at least he was going to know why she wasn’t following plans. 

“Well that’s no way to have any sort of reliable plan for your day. You expect me to-”

“Timothyyy!” She whined, laying back into the pillows. “You promised. You promised me you wouldn’t judge me if I didn’t follow a perfect schedule.” Pressing her palms over her eyes in frustration, she heard him tsk-tsk from his spot. 

“I don’t understand, you were doing so well every day with this. Not perfect, but I acknowledge your improvement and dedication.” He spouted and she made her decision. 

Reaching out, she took both of his hands, a gesture to her that she meant business. He stiffened, his eyes widened as he glanced from his hands to her face. He opened his mouth to speak but fell silent. 

“Listen, your schedules have helped me a lot but today I just can’t do them. I have to take a day or so away from it because if I don’t, I’ll get terrible burnout.” She explained, feeling her throat tighten a bit. Having to explain this part of herself to professors, bosses, friends was always so difficult. “If it’s a deal breaker for you, then I understand if you don’t want to visit with me until I’m…better.” She hesitated on the last word because she tried to use neutral words to describe her symptoms. 

It was too easy to describe it negatively.

He held her gaze, his brows furrowed as his tail flicked under their arms. She wavered for a moment, wondering if she had ruined their friendship over this, but she didn’t know what else to do. Being transparent was the only way for her to continue talking with him, otherwise the whole thing would fall apart like so many friendships and partnerships had in the past. 

“Do you really think so little of me that you believe I would abandon you when you need help? I must admit, I know very little about this ‘burnout’ you refer to, but do you think I would be negligent enough to let you tackle it alone?” He squeezed her hands as he spoke, “No, no. Not me. Now, you’re going to tell me what this burnout is and I’ll do my best to get you back on track.” 

With that determined look in his eyes, he was unwavering as he awaited an explanation. She was touched, feeling a little choked up. For a moment, she wondered if she might cry as her eyes stung a bit, but she refused to let herself do that to poor Timothy. 

Instead, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a short, but meaningful hug. She squeezed her eyes shut to fight any tears that may be trying to make an appearance. He tensed up under her, and she felt a little bad for the sudden physical contact, but she would apologize later if she needed to. It felt like a necessity, so that maybe he could understand how much it meant to her that he was choosing to be supportive of her. That or maybe she felt like she needed the hug for herself. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, holding him for just a moment before she released him. Pulling away, she noticed that he wouldn’t look at her, finding the wall more safe for his eyes. 

She had embarrassed him. 

Before she could apologize, he cleared his throat and gave her an awkward little pat on her shoulder. 

“There, there. There’s nothing that I need thanks for.” He offered in nonchalance, before redirecting the conversation. “Now, tell me everything. I can’t plan for something I don’t have awareness of, now can I?” 

With his permission, she began to explain. 

She explained her diagnosis, what it could do to her, how it could hinder her awareness of time. Recounting different instances of burnout and general hindrances, she painted a picture of what she dealt with and how for the longest time she struggled with it and still battles it still. He was patient, listening to her and asking questions about things he was concerned about. 

After the explanation, he sat there, musing over what she had revealed to him. It was silent for a while, his eyes trained on his lap. 

“A diagnosis that seeks to separate you from your own time. I think I understand now. Elizabeth, I never knew what ailed you.” He held his tail, wringing it like a towel, “Why, it’s positively horrendous!” 

“It’s not that big of a deal. It just makes things a little hard.” She assured. 

“When I watched you before we began talking, I was under the impression that you did not respect your own time. Now I- well my gears would stop working if I couldn’t be diligent with my precious hours. Oh, Elizabeth, knowing how you suffer, I suffer too! What a detriment to the peace of your life if you cannot focus on the delights of adhering to a schedule.” He went on, dramatic in his delivery, his wide eyes full of remorse for her and her ‘ailment’ as he called it. 

She sighed, this reaction called to mind the typical response that someone with no awareness of any kind of mental illness tended to have. A long lamenting for what she lacked. She couldn’t really fault him, at least he seemed to be trying. 

He was a clock afterall. 

“It’s okay. I just need some rest.” She tried again to assure him. 

“You are so brave.” He gave her a warm smile, as though what he said was profound. 

She shook her head and laughed nervously, ready to be done with this part of the conversation. Besides, she did have a video game ready to play. Taking the controller, she looked over at him with a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s focus on this. Even though I don’t have a schedule today, I know you do. We have twenty five-ish minutes left and I picked this game out with you in mind, if you want to play it with me.” Liz informed, shaking the controller to further her point.

“Oh?” He asked, seemingly delighted that she considered his schedule. He looked up at the title screen and inspected it. “Project Diva? Is this a fashion game?” He asked. Given the title, it was a good guess. 

“Better, it’s a rhythm game.” She stated, getting through the title screen and into the song menus. A preview of the songs began to autoplay as she scrolled through, looking for one she wanted to do first. During the loading screen, she tilted the controller towards him to show the button layout. “These buttons are how you play. A,B,Y, or X will appear on the screen and you have to mash it at the perfect time to get a score. I’ll play first so you can watch and see if you want to play.” 

He hummed in response, focusing on the buttons in a scrutinizing way, probably having never seen the controller before now. He looked unsure but watched on regardless. 

When the song began, she tilted the controller towards him so he could see and began to play. After a few seconds of play, Timothy lit up. 

“Oh, it’s set to the music! I see now. If you mess up the timing, you destroy the beauty of the song.” He exclaimed his revelation. 

She nodded, and continued to play. She had chosen an easy difficulty so that he could watch without seeing the clusterfuck that was the extreme difficulty the game had to offer. It was enough to drive even experienced gamers away. At the song's end, she handed the controller off to him and he held it awkwardly for a moment. Oh, this was going to be hilarious. 

“Go ahead, choose any song you want. I have it on easy mode so it doesn’t ruin your fun while you’re getting used to it.” She guided him. 

“Okay, so I press down like this to peruse the song collection?” He asked, pointing a clawed finger at the d-pad. 

“Yeah, and then you press A to select the song you want.” She advised and he gave a great deal of focus, looking down at the controller with each press until he got to a song he wanted. He chose Patchwork Stacatto , a very cutesy and melancholy love song about going unnoticed by a crush.  

As the song began, she watched as he looked down at the buttons again before he pressed them, leading to him missing the first few notes. He harumphed and continued on, getting a few notes right before dropping off again. 

“Oh great gears, this is difficult.” He groaned, his gloved fingers slipping off the buttons. 

“It always is at first, you’ll get the hang of it.” She encouraged, earning a doubtful frown from him. 

It went on like this until halfway through the song, when there was a pause in the play for a musical segment. 

“Oh, confound it all. I can’t believe I'm doing this but it cannot be helped.” He fussed to himself, yanking his gloves off. “Hold these for me, if you please.” He half asked before dropping them on her lap. 

She had to stifle a laugh, but she was glad that he was invested in it enough to discard his gloves. With a much better hold on the controller, he did begin to do better, getting a feel for where the buttons were. The dark pads on the surface of his fingers seemed to have a better grip. He said they were sensitive, so she wondered how it felt tapping away on the controller. 

Once the song had ended, he got a high C rank, which was decent for a first time. He didn’t look so pleased, but handed the controller off to her. 

“It was difficult at first, but I’ll admit it is… intriguing to wonder if I'll improve. I’ll do better next time.” He asserted, trying to hide a pout with an indifferent facade. 

She grinned to herself, and took the controller, letting her eyes linger on his hands for a moment too long. He took notice and curled his fist, setting them in his lap as if to hide them away. She thought about telling him that he didn’t need to be embarrassed, but kept it to herself. It may be more considerate not to bring it up. 

She played through a level and passed it back to him. This time, he was a little more confident. 

“I believe I can achieve A rank this time, now that I have more familiarity with the layout of these buttons.” He voiced, rubbing his thumb over the controller. She was sure he also meant that he would fare better without the gloves working against him, but she kept that to herself. 

“Shoot for it.” She cheered him on and he beamed at her. 

This time, it was like a whole other person was playing. He did very well, getting high combos, only dropping a few notes. At the end he was rewarded with…

“S rank! Did you see that, Elizabeth! I knew I would excel at all things based on achieving perfect time.” He boasted, wearing a large smile, flashing his teeth at her. 

“Impressive, it took me a lot longer to get good at this when I first started.” She encouraged, before adding, “Although, you haven’t played the harder modes yet. Those really take skill.” With her addition, he placed the controller on the couch. 

“I’ll just have to test my skill next time, but I assure you I’m confident I’ll do splendidly.” He chided, earning an eyeroll from her. “Gloves, please.” He held his hand out. 

“Oh, getting cocky huh?” She asked, placing the gloves in his palm at his request.

“Indeed, I’ll have to back up my claims tomorrow, sadly.” He slips his gloves back on, working his claws through the holes with ease. “We only have three minutes left.”

She took the controller and set it to the side, wondering what she’d do when they parted. 

“Thank you for listening to me today. It was fun playing games with you too. It means a lot to me that you’re supporting me through this.” Liz expressed her gratitude and her friend shook his head.  

“Of course. I’ve come to care a great deal for you and if days like today help you, then I'm honored. Besides, the game you shared with me was electrifying. I’ll prove to myself that I can do a harder level tomorrow, if that’s on your schedule.” He grinned at her.

“Following my schedule now?” She teased, nudging him with her leg. She wanted to return his playfulness, his energy giving her life even in her tired state. 

“Only if you're not late.” He returned with a wink. 

Reaching over to grab the dateviators, she held them for a moment, her finger lingering over the button. His eyes studied her as she wanted to thank him more, but she decided not to overdo it. 

“See you tomorrow.” She said her farewell.

“Precisely noon.” He reminded, before she hit the button. 

And he was gone. 

Sitting there in the absence of him, she felt complicated. Melancholy, mainly. Not because she was sad per say but she was never good at receiving care from others. It was hard to accept that Timothy wasn’t disappointed with her, even though he was so supportive and kind. Maybe she felt she didn’t deserve it. Trying to push that line of thought away, instead his voice echoed in her mind. 

I’ve come to care a great deal for you. 

She held it for a moment in her thoughts. Guilt took over her for considering the thought that he might be mean to her or not want to talk to her anymore. He hadn’t shown her any reason to think that he’d be like that. It was as he said, he didn’t want to abandon her when she needed him. She didn’t feel guilty because she distrusted his kindness, but rather because she didn’t give it to herself. She almost pushed him away because of her own problems.

Maybe she needed therapy. 

Pushing the thought for later, she took a deep breath and settled in for a long night of trying to rest. 

Chapter Text

“I’m more of an absurdist.” Liz corrected the person in front of her. 

“Absurdism is like nihilism but for suckers. Figured you’d be like that.” The response came, his monotone voice gave only the vaguest hint at interest in the conversation.  

Ignoring the insult, she shrugged. It wasn’t like she expected her trash can to get it. Maybe Cam was just being combative, he seemed good at that. He seemed to relish in the opposition he had to her, but his insults weren’t ever too bad. She didn’t like him at first, but she had come to like his honesty recently, even if he was rude about it. 

“It’s better than Stoicism.” Her response earned a scoff from him. 

“Damn straight.” He narrowed his eyes over crossed arms. “There’s something we agree on.”

She glanced over her shoulder at the clock face. It looked to be about ten minutes until noon. While it was nice to talk philosophy with her trash can, she grabbed the glasses from the table. 

“Yeah, sorry Cam. I need to go now.” She said and he rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever.” He gave a non-committal hand wave, before his cold eyes settled on her. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?” He nodded towards the clock. 

“Yep, every day at noon.” She confirmed. 

“Ewww.” He drew out in disgust. “Enjoy that while it lasts. Although you’re kinda a freak for talking to him so often anyway.”

“He has good manners, he’s nice to me, and he doesn’t make fun of my hobbies. Timothy: three, You: zero.” She refuted, laying out the scores by holding up her fingers. 

“Suits me fine.” He returned, “Just know that he’s not that perfect little image that you see when you play by his rules. It’s all fine until you’re one minute late, then he shows his true colors. Fucking freak.” His last insult sullied her current growing respect for him. 

Timothy was not a freak. He just had boundaries, like any reasonable person would. She cringed to think that her friend might have heard that. If there was one thing Liz had put together about the clock, it was that he may have some self-esteem issues and she didn’t want some jerk in her kitchen to hurt his feelings. 

“Well, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. I respect his time and he’s been nothing but helpful to me. He’s not a freak, you’re just disrespectful and he defends himself.” Her defense came and the bored expression of the trash made her even more angry.

“Uh-huh. You’ll be late one day, you’ll see. And I’ll be here, laughing my ass off, watching the show.” He said, making a shooing motion, “Go on, run off so you’re on time for the little prick.” 

She didn’t dignify his insult with a response, switching off the dateviators and staring down at the trash can. He was such a jerk, she had half a mind to go sit the can on her porch to give Cam a little timeout. Deciding against it, she took a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to enter the conversation with Timothy in a bad mood. 

Something did irk her a little, and she hated that the jerk’s words got under her skin. 

She did always show up on time, exactly like Timothy wanted her to. It wasn’t any trouble for her and it did give her days a little bit of structure, but it did make her wonder. Would he really be unaccepting if she were late? What was the worst that could happen? She couldn’t imagine him yelling at her or being mean or insulting. He did say in the past that he wouldn’t accommodate her tardiness, but what did that mean? 

Pushing the thoughts away, she instead focused on what he did accommodate for her. It had been a few days since their talk about burnout. Each day, he let her set the pace, only gently bringing up that she still needs to consider her school work. He even offered to make a more lightweight schedule for her, with longer scheduled rests so that she can get just a little bit done. That was yesterday and she had told him maybe later but she didn’t want to tackle that today either. 

Instead, she had a better plan.

Taking out her lunch, she set it down, having ordered some for Timothy as well. It was still warm from the delivery. It was better than the scrounged up food that she had made the past day or so, having not visited the grocery store this week yet. 

Using the glasses she called him forth. 

His tail flicked around angrily as he glared over at the trash can, his arms folded. Just as she thought, he heard what Cam had said. 

“Don’t worry about him.” Liz spoke up, waving the trash can off. “That guy’s a jerk.” 

“Not a smidgen of decorum to be seen in someone who openly talks so rudely of others within earshot.” Timothy said loudly, directing his statement at Cam with his ears flattened to his hair. “I shan’t do the same. I'm not wasting a millisecond on that!” He postured, turning back to her with his eyebrows pinched forward, his pupils small slits. “Hello, Elizabeth. Right on time, as usual.” 

His voice had a bit of bite to it, but she understood. 

“Good afternoon, Timothy.” She said through a laugh, pulling her seat out. It was the first time in a few days that she had eaten in the kitchen. “I bought Chinese.” She offered sweetly.

His flare up of anger began to cool, although his ears still twitched in irritation as he took a seat beside her. 

“Having lunch at the table again? Am I to boldly assume that you’re prepared to start scheduling your time?” He inquired, though it almost felt like an insult. Maybe it was a sore subject for her, maybe it was his irked tone, but it hurt a bit. 

“Ah, no actually. I wanted to talk about that with you. To ask for a favor.” She admitted, beginning to pull the food from the plastic bag. Pulling out the dumplings, she set them in front of them both, uncapping the container of soy-sauce based dip. 

He studied her face before speaking. 

“I’m always happy to help, but you can’t run away from your projects for much longer.” He warned, titling his head down as he held her gaze.

“I know, and that’s what I want help with. My midterms and their projects are due next Friday. It’s Wednesday today and I want to start Saturday.” She began to explain.

Timothy’s expression changed, his brows lifted and his lips parted as if he wanted to argue. She continued before he could say anything. 

“From Saturday forward, all week I need to meet you for thirty minutes at noon to help me schedule everything. Having a start date like that helps me feel like I can dedicate that time to it. We won’t have much time together next week, so I wanted to see if on Friday you wanted to spend the evening with me before I start the grind. Maybe watch a movie or something. Tomorrow, me and Sam are going to be here cleaning up everything so I don’t have to worry about it during my week.” She finished her spiel, looking to him expectantly. 

He paused, carefully deciding his word before he continued, his amber eyes locked on hers. 

“Elizabeth, do you think you can do it all in a week?” He asked, “Do you think you can follow a rigid schedule like that when you’re already facing this burnout ailment of yours? Respectfully, I think it’s most wise to plan at least a little bit for the next few days so there’s not so much to do next week.” His voice was soft, but what he said hit her like a truck. 

She froze, the idea of her planned time off cleaning and getting things sorted for the next day or so getting interspersed with a schedule of added project work to it was overwhelming and made her anxiety surge. She had planned to go grocery shopping this evening, to plan her week of meals, to get her laundry started. Tomorrow, she was going to clean up everything she had been neglecting. Throwing school work in there gave her no time to decompress. 

And besides, she was really hoping that he would agree to spend the evening with her Friday. It felt like the perfect mental preparation for a week filled with deep focus on her work. 

She always worked better when she did it all at once, when all of her focus was on cramming or spending all day knocking things out. The problem was doing it all before a deadline, but she felt better that way, even if it was stressful. Timothy was probably right, but she needed to do it her way. 

“I-um… thank you for the suggestion, but I need you to do this for me. It’s better this way for me.” Her voice wavered, as she felt both anxious for making her decision and for rejecting Timothy’s advice, even though it may help. It’s just, she didn’t want to feel overwhelmed now. That’s what Saturday was for. 

“If you insist…” He trailed off, his teeth bared for a moment as though cringing, “I’ll do my best to make it happen for you next week, but it’s ultimately up to you. If you think that taking these next two days away from it will help, then how can I argue that. I just want to see you succeed.” He offered, his tone was a little tense. 

She let go of a breath she had been holding. 

“Thank you. I’ll try my best.” She assured him. 

“Oh, you’d better. If you want a rigid schedule, you’ve come to the right clock.” He bolstered with a smile. 

“I’m counting on it.” She returned, remembering the lunch as she continued to pull the rest of it out for them. 

Briefly, she explained what was on the table and showed him how to use chopsticks. He was a tad clumsy at first, but picked it up quickly. 

It wasn’t long before they began some conversation, as they had recently, about nothing really. First, it started about the trash can and how he’s a jerk, and then that led to them talking about one of Liz’s exes being exactly like that, then to the bad dates that Liz had in the past. Next Timothy was up to his usual journey of offering what he considered to be advice. 

“Of course, this is why we always schedule out every second of a date. It’s the most important thing you can do for you and your suitor. There’s no time present for your date to answer a phone call from another woman in your presence, like that dreaded Jeremy had.” Timothy pointed out, using the story she just shared as an example. 

“Yeah, Jeremy was the worst. Can’t believe I ever went on a second date with him.” Liz thought aloud, popping a piece of coconut shrimp into her mouth. 

“Yes, quite a waste of time. The perfect date requires the most precise schedule. Imagine, you go on a date and your suitor has prepared the most considerate schedule you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. Why, that shows their dedication to spending every moment with you with purpose.  Isn’t that simply arousing?” He asks, posing the question, his pupils blown wide. 

She laughed a bit, earning a puzzled and offended look from her friend. 

“What’s so funny? It’s true, there’s nothing more attractive than a carefully planned evening together.” He defended himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with a date like that, it’s just that it’s so you . Most people would be very thrown off by an agenda for their night already planned. A lot of people like the surprise.” Liz explained herself, earning a frown from the clock.

“Well, the surprise of that Jeremy being a no-good, disregarding-of-your-time moron wasn’t fun at all, was it?” Timothy pointed out. Good point. “What care a scheduled night shows is exactly what you want in a partner and the bonding of planning out your time is priceless. Tell me this isn’t the most attractive scenario to imagine.” He clears his throat and begins, leaning in to sell his point.

“You show up to your dinner date precisely on time, they lead you to your table, their hand in yours. You ask “Darling, what’s on the agenda?” They, being prepared for this, indulge you with the details of what they have planned for your evening together. The anticipation of each scheduled item makes you quiver with excitement, because how could that not be the most arousing thing you’ve ever experienced?” He pauses, his voice low and reverent as he finishes his scenario. 

His lips quirk up in a small smile as he waits for her to speak, as though anticipating nothing less than outspoken agreement on how correct he is. He was so confident that this was the sexiest scenario that could play out that maybe he had her fooled too. 

“This is how your dates go?” She asks and he gives her a look of resolve. 

“Every date I ever go on will be exactly like this. I owe it to myself and the partner I have chosen.” He confirmed, “They would deserve nothing less than prime timeliness and the effort of a curated schedule.” He leaned back, his point was made. 

She noticed that he didn’t confirm whether or not any previous dates had gone like this, but she didn’t bring it up. Instead she smiled. 

“Alright, you got me. Sounds sexy, I’ll agree.” She was defeated. 

“Of course you would. You’re reasonable, Elizabeth.” He said matter of factly, “Now, I’ve tried the coconut shrimp, let us see if I like the dumplings.”

She watched him fumble around with the dumpling, as it was a bit slippery. He had gotten it between his chopsticks before he held it over the soy sauce cup. As if leaping to its death, it slipped from the chopsticks and into the sauce. She flinched as it splattered on her, her face and chest dotted with brown. Of course, Timothy’s gloves were not unaffected. 

They both shouted in surprise at the mishap. 

But Liz didn’t have time to make a fuss. She was wearing a My Melody x Liz Lisa collaboration piece and soy sauce stains would be so unsightly on the pastel fabric of the dress. Scooting her chair out, without a word, she was already springing to action. This wasn’t the first time she has done this exact thing in her kitchen with a collectable dress. 

She unzipped the side, and Timothy and kitchen appliances beware, she slipped the dress over her head. 

Of course, she wasn’t naked underneath. She always wore bloomers and a small petticoat under her dress, but it was the bra she wore that was the most risque. She didn’t have time to worry about modesty, the dress had to go under cold water immediately. Besides, she was sure everyone in her kitchen had seen her in just a bra before. She didn’t think it would be a big deal.

“Elizabeth!” Timothy called in surprise, but she was already in the laundry room. 

Into the sink basin the dress went with an assortment of stain treatment powders and sprays. That should do it. She turned around to come back into the kitchen to grab Timothy’s gloves but came face to face with him. 

He held out his tux for her, holding up the shoulders as if to suggest that he would put it on for her. His face was scarlet, his eyes looking at the distant wall. 

“Elizabeth, please. Take this to cover yourself. I insist.” He held it out, avoiding her gaze, waiting for her to take his suggestion.

“Are you sure?” She asked and he nodded, his eyes closed as his face was turned away. 

“Yes, I’m sure! I can’t look at you like this!” His voice was strained and urgent. 

Pulling the jacket from his hands, she felt a little silly as she slid her arms through the sleeves. The silky lining was warm and it had a strange cloying smell, almost like mechanical lubricant. The jacket was about the same size as her own clothes, the sleeves just a tad bit longer. It made sense, her friend did have a small frame. Once it was on, she pulled it closed over herself, having to hold it in place to make sure it didn’t go anywhere. The pocket on one side was a tad heavy, holding something familiar to her. 

Knowing better than to dig around in the pocket, she wondered which pocket watch was in there today. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, feeling mortified now that she thought about what just happened.

Maybe yanking her dress off in front of him wasn’t a good idea, even though she was sure he and the others had already been exposed to that. It was just plain inconsiderate. 

“How am I supposed to be a gentleclock if I don’t try to prevent you from suffering indignity? I’ll excuse your undressing, as I imagine that I would act much the same if something were to happen to one of my pocket watches.” He responded, still having trouble looking at her. 

It was strange seeing him without his tux, his arms bare under his ornate vest. She figured that he would be wearing an undershirt or something beneath it, but he hadn’t been. Something occurred to her, that he was smaller in frame than she had put any thought into. It was cute, and she tried not to notice how small his waist was. A cat-like build, she put her finger on it.

Which reminded her. 

“Oh, let me see your gloves. I’ll put them in with my dress.” She held her hands out and he sighed, dropping the gloves into her hands without a fuss. 

Adding them to her concoction of stain fighting chemicals, she returned to the kitchen to open a drawer with the extra gloves. Fishing out a pair, she spun around and met her friend back in the laundry room. He still looked away from her, so she grabbed his wrist. 

His tail bristled and he sputtered out a response, finally looking down at her. 

“Excuse me! What is the meaning of grabbing me when my guard is down?” He fussed, his pupils thinned. 

“I’m just putting your gloves on.” She remarked, doing her best to wrangle the glove on his hand, being careful in the process. He pulled his hand away, a little roughly, and took the other glove from her. 

“I’m plenty capable of doing it myself, thank you!” He snapped, slipping the other glove on. 

Ah, she messed up. This whole thing was an insult to him when she was trying to make it better. 

He noticed her expression, and she kicked herself for not hiding it better. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guilty. His stern expression fell as he exhaled. When he spoke next, his voice lacked any heat. 

“I apologize, I’m not trying to be curt with you. I simply…” He trailed off, “I want to be respectful of you. I thought that offering my own clothes would help, but it has made you appear even more undressed in a way.” With him admitting that, she looked down at herself. 

Pulling the tux closed, she sighed. 

“It’s okay, it’s my fault for being so scatterbrained.” She admitted, fiddling with the fabric lapels, the cat faces smiling at her. 

“Technically, the fault is my own. I’m not good with chopsticks yet.” He said with a small grin, “Next time, would you provide me a fork instead?” He asks, offering her a soft look.

She was always thankful that things never stayed tense between them. Any little shortcoming she had, any miscommunication between them always ebbed away and led to them existing like this, comfortable despite whatever ailed them. Everything always diffused before they parted. It was something that she cherished with him, as some of the other objects in her house seemed to hold grudges easily. 

“Next time, I’ll bring an umbrella.” She made a jab at him and he gave her a halfhearted laugh. 

Chapter Text

“Please, please let me see him!” 

The voice of her friend urged, but to no avail. Liz shook her head. 

“You can’t, it’s not time yet.” She shut it down.

The last few hours had been spent cleaning up around the house. Liz had taken care of laundry and set anything delicate out to dry on hangers. Sam had come just an hour before, as promised, and now they were in the kitchen. Liz was busy dusting, and her friend had taken to the stove top and counters with a sponge, wiping them down and scrubbing anything that needed it. It was unsurprising that, after a lull in conversation, Sam wanted to see Timothy. Afterall, for the past few weeks she had indulged Sam on what was going on. 

There was only one person who knew about the dateviators other than her, as Liz hadn’t told anyone else. Between talking to the mysterious creator of the glasses and her shaky position with Valdivian, she didn’t feel safe sharing the secret with anyone else besides her childhood friend. And every day or so, Sam would call and they would chat for close to an hour about all of the objects she had met and talked to throughout the day. Of course, Sam had noticed that the most commonly talked about one by far was Timothy.

And she wanted to meet him.

But given that it was thirty minutes until noon, Liz wouldn’t budge. 

“It’s close enough, don’t you think?” Sam argued, scrubbing away at some baked-on carbon stuck to the stovetop.

“He would be very insulted, we can wait until noon.” Liz once again shut the idea down, dusting the tops of the door frames over the dining room entrance. 

“Come ooon, I haven’t talked to any of them yet. I wanna start with the Timothy.” She urged impatiently. 

“And I’m telling you no. Our meeting time is always “precisely at noon” and he wouldn’t be happy at all. I don’t think he’d even talk to us.” Her response received a disbelieving huff from her friend.

“Even you?” Sam asks, “That doesn’t sound right. If you’re such good friends, then I think he’d make an exception for you.” 

While that line of reasoning did make sense for normal people, Timothy was a clock. 

“Since we’re good friends, I’m going to wait until noon and respect his boundaries.” Liz again stated, starting to get tired of repeating herself. 

With the door frames finished, she was on to the next thing. The closest thing to her, hanging on the wall was the clock in question. Dusting time, buddy, she thought as she carefully pulled the clock from the tack in the wall. It was heavy as she remembered, its tail swung below. Timothy had once told her that the pendulum needed to continue swinging as often as possible or else it could interfere with the timing of the internal mechanisms of the clock. 

Keeping this in mind, she held the clock against her side, letting the pendulum continue as she wiped it down, the thin layer of dust clinging to the cloth she used. Sam laughed at her, earning a look from her. 

“What?” Liz asked, returning to wiping the clock down. 

“That stance looks ridiculous.” She told her, setting the sponge down. “You look like you’re holding an infant on your hip.” 

“I’m trying to let the pendulum swing. It’s kinda important for clocks… for some reason, I’m not sure why.” Liz admitted. Though Timothy had told her exactly why, she didn’t remember it. 

“If you mess up the clock, will he die or change or do you think it matters?” Sam asks, as though it’s a normal question. Liz felt a pang of fear and shock at the thought of it. 

“I don’t know… don’t talk about that. I don't want to think about it.” She shooed the question away, finished with her dusting. 

Thinking about it now, if she ever dropped him while he was like this… No, she couldn’t even continue the thought. She had no choice but to be gentle. With the most careful grip she could muster, she placed the clock back on the wall. It smiled at her, shiny and dust free now. 

“I’m not surprised, honestly.” Sam started, “If I had to guess which object in your house that you’d get closest to, I’d picture that clock in my head.” 

“Huh? Why’s that?” Liz asked, pulling the step ladder around to the cabinets over the stove. 

“I remember when you got it. It was about the only decor in this place at the time and you loved it. You ate ramen for a few days because it was expensive.” Her friend reminisced, “Go figure that you’d become friends with the guy that’s in there. I’m surprised you don’t have a big crush on him.” 

“Gosh, Sam, not everything’s about crushes. You read too much erotica.” Liz returned, earning an indignant look from her friend. “Besides, you’re embarrassing me. You know he can hear you right now?” 

“What, no way? He can hear us? Like, any time?” Sam paled, giving the clock a regretful look. “Then he heard me talk about the rash? Like, all of the details I went into?” Sam asked. 

Liz gave her a slow, pointed nod. Her friend groaned.

“It’s unfair that I’m the only one embarrassed, so how about I ask you this. Why haven’t I heard anything about you hooking up with any of these guys? I mean, they’re hot, right?” She asked and Liz felt her face heat up. 

“Shhhh, I’ll talk to you later about that.” She hushed, not wanting for the kitchen to hear her explanation as to why she’d likely never hook up with any of them. 

In truth, she had thought about this when she received the glasses. Skylar herself told her that she should look for partners in the objects around her house, but yet Liz hesitated. And the longer she considered it, the more resolve she had in not dating any of them. In honesty, she probably shouldn’t even be best friends with some of them either. Making a mental note to explain herself to her friend later, she continued to dust the doorframes. 

The remaining few minutes until noon ticked away as they cleaned, Sam was now being overly careful about what she said out loud, causing her to often fall into silence. Her friend’s impulsive mouth tended to get her in trouble, and she knew it. With most of the kitchen swiped clean and dusted, there was only just a bit left to do before they moved on to another part of the house, but it would have to wait. Liz had an appointment and she couldn’t be late. 

After placing down their rags, cleaning their hands, and pulling out the pizza, courtesy of Sam, Liz stood in front of the clock. She waited until the hands reached exactly noon, shushing her friend who asked if it had to be on the dot. 

Like she had done many times before, she clicked on the dateviators, earning a gasp from her friend as Timothy appeared. Her friend's reaction was proof of how normal this had begun to feel, as Liz’s shock was no longer present watching the familiar face spawn from the ether. 

Timothy, prim and proper as always, gave them each an acknowledging nod as he greeted them. 

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth.” He gave to her, turning to Sam to give her a quick bow, “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Sam.” 

He looked a bit more alert than typical, as Liz assumed he was trying to make a good impression. She had shared with him how close she and Sam were, being friends since first grade. Timothy knew she was important to Liz, so it was really sweet that he was trying to get off on the right foot. 

“Oh. My. God. He is so cute!” Sam blurted out in excitement, “Elizabeth? That’s so campy. I love it.” She laughed to herself, earning an abashed look from Timothy, though he remained quiet. With a quick glance to Liz, he nodded at her friend. 

“Ahem , yes. I appreciate the …compliment.” He struggled for a moment before getting himself together. “My name is Timothy Timepiece, I’ve heard many good things about you. If I may, I want to thank you for coming here to help Elizabeth today.” His gratitude was waved off in nonchalance. 

“Nah, it’s nothing. Timothy, huh? Can I call you Timmy for short!” Sam asked and to Liz’s surprise, the clock snapped back with an almost panicked ferocity.

“No! Absolutely not. Never!” He nearly shrunk in on himself,  holding his hand defensively over his chest as his tail bristled. For a moment, he almost looked guilty for his outburst, quickly shaking it off. “Well I- I’m not fond of nicknames in the slightest, especially not that one. It simply doesn’t suit me.” His explanation came out rushed. 

Liz stared at him for a moment, wondering what it was that set him off like that. In honesty, she had never tried a nickname with him. Sam, shocked, held her mouth agape and Timothy looked ashamed as his eyes traveled elsewhere. 

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Liz intervened, before Sam could push the point. Her friend was good at pushing people’s buttons and she didn’t want her to start in on the clock. 

“You two can do that, I’m going to prepare tea for us.” Timothy offered, though Liz could read into why.

Whenever Timothy felt bad about something, he’d try to make himself helpful or busy himself. Most often, it was winding pocket watches but recently he’d jump in to try and help her with things like tea. He was helpful anyway, always wanting to serve others whether it was advice, helping her with a schedule, or just being a good listener. 

Sam sat down, wordlessly. Liz was sure she’d hear about whatever she was thinking later on. Timothy got to work, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove, flitting around the kitchen as he did so. Tenderly, he pulled teacups from their spot in the cupboard. Tea didn’t go that great with pizza, but she wanted to diffuse the tension anyway. 

“What tea are you making? Has time decided if earl grey is his favorite yet?” She asked, hoping her joke would bring a little light back into the room. He gave her a small, withering smile and held up the tea bags. It was, in fact, earl grey.

“Time will tell you that it’s actually hibiscus tea that is his favorite. Alas, I'm making earl grey.” He responded, that playful side emerging in his words. 

Feeling a bit relieved, she took her seat and let him work. His tail swung behind him, occasionally brushing past the chair the Sam sat in. Her friend, noticing this, watched his tail in delight as it swung close to her. A mischievous look crossed her face as she made grabby hand gestures at his tail. Liz shook her head at her, summoning a look of warning as it wouldn’t go well if Timothy’s tail got grabbed. Hell, Liz was barely able to get away with ruffling his hair. A stranger would get a tongue lashing for sure. 

Stifling a laugh, Sam dropped her joke, placing her hands back on the table. 

“Alright! The tea has three and a half minutes to steep.” Timothy announced, taking his seat beside her. He pulled a pocket watch from his tux and flipped open the lid. This one was silver, wings etched into the back. 

As if sensing that she wanted a better look, he tilted it towards her, a satisfied grin on his face. 

“Is that real?” Sam asked, trying to get a better look at it. 

“Of course it’s real.” He said, turning it so that her friend could see. “This one is one of my favorites. The dove wings on the back represent peacefulness, and I can think of nothing else as peaceful as gauging the time on this gorgeous timepiece.” He explained, pointing a clawed finger to the etching on the back. He was delighted at the interest that Sam showed and Liz was happy that their first meeting was going this way. 

“Wow, I didn’t know that these were still being made. Is it a wind-y watch? Like the ones in period dramas?” She asked, and the clock nodded. 

“Indeed. It must be wound every twenty four hours lest it lose a few seconds every day. That cannot do, so I schedule their maintenance every day.” Timothy informed Sam, though he had already told Liz this before. 

“Wow, must take a while.” Sam responded, pulling the box of pizza to be closer to them. Timothy didn’t notice, his eyes trained on the watch. 

“And that’s three minutes. It should take thirty seconds to pour the sugar in. Sam, would you prefer one spoon or two spoons of sugar?” He asked, pulling his chair back as he got up. Liz ducked under his tail as it swung a bit close to her face. 

“Oh, fancy. I want three spoonfuls, please!” She asked, earning a short nod from Timothy as he began scooping the amounts into the cups. He was focused on the task at hand, his tail swaying slightly as it brushed against Sam’s face by accident. She recoiled, giving him a look but he didn’t notice. 

Instead, he grabbed the saucers and placed them on the table in front of them both, the cups not so much as teetering in his grasp. She would have sworn he was a royal butler in a past life. They steamed and the sweet smell lingered with the scent of pizza. It clashed, but Liz didn’t care. 

“Oh, Timothy. Pizza is usually eaten with your hands. You might wanna get a fork.” Liz warned him, and he lifted his eyebrows.

“Ah, thank you.” He said, turning to grab a fork for himself. Sam arched a brow at Liz, but remained on her best behavior, keeping whatever joke to herself. 

He sat down and she took a sip of her tea before she touched any pizza, not really wanting to mix the two. It was exactly the way she liked it, Timothy had put just the right amount of cream and sugar in for her taste. Sam passed out the slices onto the paper plates, and Liz took note of what the toppings were. Pineapple, ham, olives. A strange combo, but she’d eat it anyway. 

Timothy, taking his fork, took a little bite of the pizza. After a few seconds, he placed his fork back onto the plate and opted for the tea instead. Ever polite, it was the first time she had seen him dislike a food. She wondered what it was, but if she had to guess, it was the pineapples. 

“So, what’s it like being a clock? Like, when you’re not out here?” Sam asked, her words a little slurred through the bite of pizza. He looked up over the rim of the tea cup, setting it down with a clink as he thought about it. 

“That’s a good question. If I had to put it into words, it’s how I imagine dreams are like for humans. You know what’s happening and you’re very much aware of the things and people around you, yet there’s not as much ability to interact with things on the outside. If I'm here with Elizabeth and I leave… say, one of my pocket watches, then when I return to my natural state, she’ll still have it here. If Elizabeth were to give me this tea cup, I would have it with me there, but Elizabeth would no longer have access to it until I bring it back out for her.” He explained.

“Like a pocket dimension?” Sam asks, and Timothy ponders it. 

“I suppose, if pocket dimension is referring to another, separate state of being.” He muses, “Although, I’m much more aware of time passing when I’m present here. It blurs together when I’m back there. Not that I’m any less aware of what time it is currently, it just feels less tangible. I’m able to meditate on it more back there. Here, my senses get in the way just a bit, but I feel it more.” He expressed, tapping a claw on his chin as he talked. 

Liz was invested, leaned in as this wasn’t something she had dared to ask Timothy before. She knew that he could leave things, as he had left his gloves and other clothing items with her, but she didn’t know he could take things with him. If that was the case, he could take the gift she ordered him if he liked it. 

“Oh, okay. Do you remember anything before she got the glasses?” Sam asked and he nodded.

“Yes, of course I do. I’ve watched this household for over two years. My perception didn’t begin the second that Elizabeth used those glasses.” Timothy returned, taking another sip from his cup. Sam went on with the questions, as though interviewing him. 

“Well, what about before then? Do you remember where you were before?” Her question came and Timothy fell silent for a beat. He stared down into his tea, amber eyes clouded. 

“Yes, I do. I had a home for forty years with a woman. Her name was Annette.” He gave simply, his voice meek. Getting the feeling that this wasn’t a pleasant memory, Liz didn’t want to drudge anything up.

“Oh, did she sell you?” Sam asked, but Liz shot her a look, hoping that her friend would get the clue to stop. 

“She… passed away. In her home.” He recalled, thumbing over the handle of the tea cup. “I watched her kids grow up. I was there with her in her living room until her last days.” his voice nearing a whisper.

“Oh no…” Sam trailed off, placing her hand over her mouth. His ears drooped against his head. 

“I didn’t know what was happening until I was being pulled off the wall by her son. He placed me alone in storage. I don’t remember what happened after that, it’s all gone. The next thing I know, I’m in an antique shop for a few days before Elizabeth brought me home. I wish… that I could have told Annette thank you. She always changed my battery on time, but alas. It’s too late now.”

There was a tense moment of silence. Timothy didn’t look up from the tea cup, gripping it as if holding it down. She wanted to say something, her heart aching at the revelation. She had never talked about his past with her, as she had wanted to leave it to him to tell her. Wanting to comfort him, she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. He flinched under her touch, and she wondered if she had messed up. 

“Timothy…” She began but he let go of the tea cup. 

“Excuse me, Elizabeth. I don’t feel up to talking right now.” He slinked away, pulling his chair back and taking a step towards the clock. “I’d like to be excused. I apologise for wasting the tea, but I need to take my leave.” His features were stony, as though he was trying to hold back his emotions. 

She understood. He needed time to himself to deal with the memories and something so personal wasn’t something he wanted to share in front of Sam, if he even wanted to share them with Liz at all. 

“It’s okay, Timothy. I’ll see you tomorrow, if that’s okay?” She confirmed and he closed his eyes. 

“Yes, that should be fine. At three.” He answered, this time not bothering to emphasize that he wanted her at precisely three. 

With that, she grabbed the glasses and dismissed him with the touch of a button. 

Sitting there, she stared at the empty space he had just occupied. Her heart sank, wishing that she could have comforted him but she didn’t know what to do. Instead, she cleared her throat and grabbed the pizza box.

“Hey Sam, let’s go outside on the front porch.” She gave her soft order, already taking the box with her. Her friend, wide eyed, didn’t argue as they made their way out.

The crisp autumn air chilled the air, but the warmth of the sun was still there to soothe them as they took a seat. 

“Wow, bummer. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” Sam started and she sighed in response. 

“Now do you see why I don’t want to hook up with any of them?” Liz asked, holding the pizza box on her knees as she got comfortable on the stairs.

“Yeah, I guess dying would be a bad way to end things.” Sam mused aloud and Liz shook her head. 

“It’s not just that. The other day, I watched my dirty clothes and my clothes hamper break up. It was brutal, nasty, and my fault. The hamper was in love with a tube of chapstick that I threw away. It messed her up, traumatized her that her partner was gone. She turned to me, wanting me to fill that spot as a rebound after the breakup. I couldn’t do it. I have too much power.” Liz explained and Sam gave her a puzzled look. 

“Too much power? Like a boss? I mean, if you don’t treat them badly, then I don’t see the big deal.” Sam pushed and Liz took a deep breath. 

“That’s the thing. As far as I know, all of them are trapped here. I couldn’t have deep relationships with them in good faith because what if it doesn’t work out? What if I find a human partner? Could you imagine being stuck as a hanger in the closet of your ex for the rest of your life? And that’s another thing. If throwing away chapstick is as brutal as I imagine, what about when something stops working? What if my microwave needs to be replaced?” Liz continued. 

“Wow Liz, you’ve really thought of this.” Sam responded. 

“Friendship is as far as I should go with any of them, and really, part of me second guesses that too. Why should they suffer because I want to be entertained? Anything can happen and I feel responsible for all of their wellbeings. I wonder if I should have ever used the glasses in the first place.” She finished, feeling a little sad for admitting it out loud. 

It was something she had thought about, but never spoken of, as a phone call inside would have anyone in earshot eavesdropping. Her friend sat silently for a moment before she spoke up.

“I think you’re looking at this all wrong. If you don't want to date them, I get that. But regretting all of it? Liz, imagine if you hadn’t? There wouldn’t be a chance that they could be enriched by you. Timothy, for example. Do you think if he had the choice, he would rather have never been your friend? Even if you die someday? I don’t think it’s fair to anyone to decide that.” Sam offered, in a singular moment of good advice. 

“Maybe you’re right… I just need to be careful about how I form relationships with them all. Friendship is okay, but anything deeper… I’m just afraid of hurting anyone. It is up to me, afterall.” Liz spoke, a beige suit catching her eye. 

A delivery person walked up, a grey package in one arm, a device in the other. 

“Elizabeth Auclair?” The man asked and she nodded. 

“That’s me.” She spoke up, offering her arms out to receive it. He dropped it into her hands and typed away on the console he held. After a moment, he gave her a nod. 

“Have a good day.” He uttered, turning around and heading back to his delivery truck. 

She held the package in her arms, holding it close as she considered her feelings. 

“Whatcha got there?” Sam leaned in, reading the sender’s info. “Adidas? You don’t wear Adidas.” Sam remarked and Liz shook her head. 

“It’s not for me. It’s for Timothy. I wanted him to have something comfy when we’re doing more casual things.” She explained, looking down at the package. 

It was pretty easy to guess his size after she wore his tux yesterday. She ordered it last night and truth be told she was still amazed at how quickly overnight shipping could get to her. 

“See? You’re considerate. Liz, there’s no reason to feel like you’re a bad person when you do little things like this to improve their lives. I know you and how you beat yourself up over things that aren’t that big of a deal, especially when nothing has happened yet.” Sam encouraged but it didn’t help. 

As nice as it sounded to be relaxed about this, she couldn’t allow herself to be negligent. Not after Chappy, not after hearing how the water heater remembered the people in the house before her, not after hearing about Timothy’s past home. She had to be responsible for them and that meant being careful with the feelings that she might project onto them. The power she had must be considered as though they were real, breathing human people living in her house. 

Of course, by this point, she had committed to friend zoning multiple of the objects that had come onto her. She couldn’t take it back now. It wasn’t that hard for her so far, as none of the ones who had shown that level of interest in her were, in turn, all that interesting to her. Her heart wasn’t hurt by passing it up. Still, she had to remain strong even if that did one day happen and setting the precedent now was the best way to prepare herself. 

If she was mindful now, it likely wouldn’t snowball into something all encompassing, like a crush or love. 

“You’re doing it again. Overthinking every scenario. I can see it on your face.” Sam pointed out, reaching into the pizza box to pull out a slice. “But I respect you, even if I think you’re thinking too hard about this. You have my support if you don’t wanna hook up or date any of them.Just don’t get mad if I call you out later when you do.” She joked, taking a bite of the now cold pizza. 

Liz sighed, picking up her own pizza. 

“Thanks Sam.” She offered, taking a bite. 

Pineapple really was a strange topping.

Chapter Text

Tearing the page out of her pink planner, she removed the perforated ruffled part left behind, balling it up in her fist.

It was the last touch for the evening as she set it down next to the snacks and popcorn bowl. The soft music of the film’s menu screen played in the background as it waited to be viewed. Looking over the set up, she was pretty satisfied with how she did and was sure it would make for a peaceful evening. The breath before the plunge, the drop in pressure before a tornado. 

The movie night before cramming and grinding for midterms. 

There was just one last thing she had to do and it was something she was a little nervous about. The air needed to be cleared about what happened yesterday. She didn’t want to feel hesitant  about the time she had with Timothy, wondering if he’s okay and feeling up to talking. He needed to know that he could talk to her if he needed to. 

After her conversation with Sam, Liz determined that she’d try to be the best friend she could to everyone, and part of that meant trying to check in on Timothy, even if she was a tad scared to do so. She saw it as her responsibility. 

With everything in place, she was running out of time to stall. Quickly, she grabbed the glasses and made her way into the kitchen, ready to bring him out. Shaking off the anxiety, she watched as the hands on the clock crossed over three. 

He stood there, and like she feared, the air about him was off. It wasn’t the usual, energetic and eager to see her Timothy that she saw, but something a tad more reserved. He crossed his arms over his chest and held a firm expression, his lips parting as he hesitated. 

“Elizabeth.” He began, stopping to close his eyes in concentration before continuing. “I apologize for interrupting our scheduled time yesterday. I fear I’ve made a terrible impression of myself to your friend.” As he began trying to make amends, his ears drooped against his head. 

“Don’t start that. Don’t you apologize.” She responded, grabbing him by the wrist. “Come with me, we’re going to talk about this.” 

With no argument, he let her lead him into the living room. Sitting him down in front of her on the couch, she held onto his wrist for the time being. She noticed that he looked away, seemingly out of guilt as though he were about to get in trouble. Losing any anxiety that she had to try and make this better, she gave his wrist a squeeze and began. 

“Timothy, I don’t blame you for anything. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that we couldn’t talk about it in a more private setting. Now, are you okay? After yesterday?” She asked and he let his eyes dart back over to her. 

“I’m quite fine. I’m just surprised at myself. I didn’t think I would be affected by something that happened so long ago. It’s a popular saying that time heals all wounds, yet…” He pauses to give a half-hearted chuckle, “Even the grace of time passed hasn’t soothed me yet.” 

“Of course, Timothy. It’s not just time that heals, it’s support. It’s talking about it and figuring it out for yourself. You haven’t talked to anyone about this, have you?” She asked in a guess and he took a deep breath. 

“No, I have not. The present is my top priority, in most cases. It’s where I feel the most safe. I try  not to dredge up the past so remembering has put me in a morose mood.” He stopped, his amber eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to burden you with this. You have a lot on your schedule and I know there’s not much time for you to dwell on me.” 

“You’re not a burden at all. I want to talk to you about things like this, if it helps you process things. You’re not the only one who has to offer help. I’m here and I care, so please, I want you to feel comfortable with me. You can trust me.” She corrected him. His gaze held hers and the somber expression remained as he thought over her promise. 

“I do trust you. A great deal, in fact.” He gave, struggling for a moment to find his next words. “I’m not sure I can talk about it yet, my thoughts are unorganized currently. I promise, Elizabeth, that I'll talk to you about it when I can, if you’ll have me.” His last statement hung in the air for a few passing seconds, his eyes regained some of their warmth.

“Of course.” She confirmed, shifting a bit on the couch. “I think you’re long overdue for a hug, if you’ll have me.” Echoing his own words, she awaited a signal. His ears perked up and he provided her a quick nod. 

Leaning over, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. He was a tad tense at first, holding his breath before letting it go. Feeling him relax into her arms, his chin rested on her shoulder as he carefully returned the hug. Like she had with many friends before, she gently rubbed his back as they sat silently for a prolonged silence. It was then that she felt his heart beat, which was not a beat at all but instead the gentle, measured ticking of a clock. Despite how odd it would have been if she wasn’t so wrapped up in the moment, she cherished the sound. Of course, his heart beat was the ticking hands of a timepiece. 

A sniffle broke the silence, but she tried not to pay mind to it. Instead, she held on to him and continued to offer comfort. 

“It’s going to be okay.” She whispered, and he responded by tightening his grip on her. She could have sworn for a moment that she felt claws dig into the fabric of the hoodie she wore, but she ignored it. He wouldn’t scratch her, she trusted that. 

She let him cry, rubbing his back until he was done. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she didn’t pay any mind to it. When he was done, he finally pulled away. 

His hair was mussed and the glittery streaks of drying tears clung to his cheeks. Now, free, she leaned over to the side table to grab up a few tissues, offering it to him. Sniffling again, he took them and began blotting his eyes with them. He took a breath in and let it out, shaky as he exhaled. 

“My, my. I’m sure that would have thrown your schedule out the window.” He started, “But knowing you, there wasn’t one. For that, I dare say I’m thankful.” He stated, his voice tinged by the remaining croakiness of a fresh cry.

“Actually, Timothy. You’re wrong.” She corrected, pulling the paper up from beside the popcorn. “This is the schedule for tonight and we’re right on time.” With her correction, she handed him the paper. 

Taking it in the hand that wasn’t holding a tissue, he let his eyes peruse the paper. 

“Meet Timothy at three. Comfort Timothy until three-thirty.” He read aloud, his eyebrows lifting in confusion at the next item, “Gift giving time until three-forty. Gift? I didn’t bring anything like that.” He inquired, but she had already started getting off the couch. 

Grabbing the inconspicuous bundle of fabric from the coffee table, she held it out to him. In surprise, he looked from her to the object she offered, his tail flicking as though coming back to life after being drooped for so long. Offering him a wide smile, she placed it into his hesitant hands. 

“It’s for you. I thought that for more casual scenarios, having something softer and easier to relax in would be good. If you don’t like it, no biggie. I just wanted you to have something comfortable.” She explained as he rubbed his gloved palm over it. 

Unfolding it, he held it up and looked over it, the iconic white stripes cascaded down the sleeves over the soft black fabric. For a moment, she wondered if he disliked it, and she would understand if he did. He never seemed uncomfortable in his regular, pressed attire. After a moment, his expression softened and he offered her a smile for the first time today. 

“Oh, Elizabeth. This is so very thoughtful of you. You took the effort to write a schedule as well. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to spoil me.” His voice was still a bit affected by his cry, but it was getting less noticeable now. 

“Yeah, I kinda am.” She admitted. “You can put it on in the bathroom, if you want to.” With that, he held the bundle close and got to his feet. 

“Of course I want to. It’s a gift from you so I’m happy to wear it.” He confirmed, his usual energy starting to return. “I’ll hurry, so that we can adhere to your schedule.”

With that, he swiftly exited the room, his tail trailing behind him. She took her place back on the couch, leaning back and becoming aware of the cool, dampness on her shoulder. Ignoring it, she waited for him to return. It was sooner than she expected and she was happy to see that her little sewing endeavor paid off. 

His tail was able to fit through the hole she made in the back of the sweatpants. In truth, the tracksuit looked good on him. The black and white suited him and he looked cozy, yet still put together. His gloves still remained and he held his pocket watch and agenda out, searching for pockets. In no time, he found the pouch on the front of the hoodie acceptable and slipped the book inside. Setting his usual outfit down, nicely folded, he placed his pocket watch neatly on top, taking care to let the chain lay beside it. 

“I would have never thought to wear something like this. It is remarkably soft. I believe this lining is fleece.” He began, turning about to look down at the way it fit. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I’ll cherish it.” 

She patted the cushion next to him, beckoning him to sit beside her. Once he took his place, he again pulled out the schedule she had written for him. 

“Aha, so the film is a hundred and three minutes long. You have scheduled time afterwards to chat about the film, very good.” He paused, giving her a smile, “I’m proud of you. You’ve done very well with this and I appreciate it dearly. Now you probably don’t need me to schedule your time after this.” He gave a laugh, though it felt a bit sad. 

“No, I definitely still need you. Especially with this week coming up.” She said, clapping her hands together, “Please don’t leave me on my own.” She begged and he glanced down to the schedule. 

“There’s definitely more I could show you to tighten this up.” He remarked, leaning in with a mean grin, “It’s still too vague, my dear.” He jaunted, before folding the schedule up and placing it into his pocket for safe keeping. 

“Hm, noted.” She returned, grabbing the remote. “If you paid attention, it’s a minute past when we were supposed to start the movie.” She clicked play, watching as the studio logos began to appear.

“What? No! Why didn’t you say something?” He scolded, earning a laugh from her. 

“I’m kidding with you.” She ruffled his already messy hair, “Relax. Everything’s on schedule.” 

Usually, he’d scold her for touching his hair, but this time he didn’t, instead mirroring her position on the couch and pulling his legs up beside him. 

“Tonight is supposed to be a peaceful evening, so I’ll abide by your rules.” He relented, attempting to lounge beside her. “What film are we viewing?” 

“Kiki’s Delivery Service. It’s a comfort film for me whenever I feel tired.” she admitted, pulling an oversized blanket up from the arm of the couch and draping it over the both of them.

As the movie started, they both watched on. Occasionally, Liz looked over to watch Timothy’s reactions to it. He marveled at the animation, doting on how interesting it was that animators could perfect motion in time with the model of frames per second. She was glad to see him enjoy the movie after his cry. The popcorn was picked at and eventually set to the side, a little bit left behind in the bowl. 

About thirty minutes into the movie, in the pursuit of comfort, she found herself leaning against him. He didn’t ask her to move, so she settled in and found herself absentmindedly playing with something soft. In her mind, as she wasn’t paying attention, it was her blanket. However, after a while, she felt it move a bit. Finding her fingers entangled in black fur, she realized her mistake.

She had been playing with his tail and she hadn’t even noticed it. 

Slowly, she let go of it in the hope that he didn’t notice. Trying to be nonchalant, she cast a glance over her shoulder to see if he was aware. His amber eyes were close to her own, an intense expression marked his features. She leaned back when she realized their proximity and repositioned herself on the couch. That was way too close.

“You’re distracting me from the film.” He offered as a quiet reminder, tenderly taking his tail from her lap and placing it on the other side of him. “There was no plan in your schedule for having to rewatch parts of the movie.” He warned in a low voice, though it didn’t feel as direly serious a cautioning as usual from him. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” She offered, tucking her hands under the blanket as though to prevent herself from doing something distracting again. 

He let out a huff and turned his eyes back towards the screen, the low light obscuring his expression. She searched his face for a moment to see if he was irritated by her, but once she found that he was becoming invested in the film again, she settled back down for the rest of the viewing. 

Towards the end of the film, she felt him lean against her. It was slow, and she tried not to pay mind to it, afraid that if she did it would embarrass him. His weight felt heavier after a minute or so and this is what had her look over. 

Eyes closed, he rested his head on her shoulder. His breath was slow and shallow, his ears twitched randomly. The realization that he had fallen asleep on her struck her. Holding her breath, Liz debated if she should wake him up. Would he be upset if he didn’t get to see the rest of the film? Part of her told her that he absolutely would, as she could hear him in her head saying that taking time to rewatch a film was a waste of a good scheduled evening or something to that effect. 

Lifting her arm up to try to wake him, she paused. 

He had just cried, and if he was anything like her, crying sapped so much energy. She wanted him to rest, if just this once. Come to think of it, he was always busy, bustling around and cleaning his pocket watches, checking his agenda, offering her help. He deserved a little nap. All that besides, she didn’t want to wake him up. For some reason, she felt comforted as he slept against her. Was it because he trusted her so much? 

He shifted a bit in his sleep, scooting closer and moving his arm to fall over her lap. 

In his movement, something slid from the pocket of the hoodie. 

It was the black, leatherbound schedule that he always used. That’s right, he had placed it in his pocket. Reaching over to pick it up so she could set it on the coffee table, the words on one of the agape pages caught her eye. It was her name. 

She didn’t want to pry into his privacy, but she was intrigued. It was probably nothing, but as she lifted it up, the pages fell open. 

On the page, was simply a date and a time. It was the plan for meeting her a few days ago. Of course he would have written it down, that’s just the way Timothy was. And yet, she let curiosity get the better of her. Carefully, she pulled it into her lap and looked through it. Date after date, schedule after schedule, it was all meetings with her that he had written down in that beautiful cursive. Getting to the very first page, she found something interesting. 

It was the first day they had met, the first scheduled time that they had planned, but there was a list beneath it. A list of talking points and questions to ask her. Things like her favorite hobbies, her favorite colors, pastimes, foods, and most humorously, her opinion on daylight savings time. These were all things that were crossed out, and most of which she never recalled him asking her. 

He had crossed them out even though she hadn’t answered these? Had he given up on these questions? 

Feeling that she had pried enough, she closed the book and set it on the coffee table. A warmth spread in her chest as she thought about the little list of things he had planned for her. 

Usually, she would cry at the end of Kiki’s Delivery Service. It was something that caught her up in her feelings and was far too relatable for her, but this time the film ended and the credits rolled with no tears. She was far too distracted. Timothy, fast asleep on her shoulder, his agenda filled up with nothing but her. Where did he write his scheduled maintenance for his pocket watches? She figured of all things he would write down, that would be the first. 

But instead, it was all her. 

Maybe he had a separate book for pocket watch maintenance and the black book was his social schedule. If that’s the case, she felt even more saddened. Was she the only one he ever talked to? The only one he planned for? 

She took a deep breath, deciding now was as good a time as ever to wake him up, as if she let him sleep, she would be breaking her schedule and he wouldn’t be happy about that. 

Gingerly, she put her hand on his shoulder and patted him. 

“Timothy.” She whispered, taking the care to be gentle.

Stirring a bit, he opened his golden eyes, his blissfully sleepy expression clouded his gaze. He looked up at her, a hum escaping him. 

“Timothy, the movie is over. You fell asleep.” She informed in a hush, giving him another pat as he seemed to drift off again, his face pressing back into her shoulder. She shook him a little this time, eliciting a groan from him. 

Sitting up, he yawned, sharp teeth flashing as he did, stretching his arms out in front of him. His eyes were still closed as he sat upright. 

“What’s the time?” He asked, raking his fingers through his hair to settle the strands that stuck up in his sleep. 

She fumbled around, searching for her phone in the blankets, but he shook his head. 

“It’s five twenty-three.” He confirmed, opening his eyes, his sleepy demeanor sticking with him. She didn’t know why he even asked if he already knew. Her guess was that he wanted her to be aware of the current time. “Your schedule has been planned until five forty-five. We were supposed to talk about the film, but dear me, I fell asleep.” He frowned as he realized. 

Feeling a tad guilty for not waking him, she offered him a small smile. 

“It’s okay, we can do this again another time. Maybe this could be a Friday thing?” She posits, and he looks at her with a determined look. 

“Yes, that’s a very exciting prospect. Of course, now that you’ve shown you can schedule out time like this, I’ll accept no less next time.” He chided, pulling the blanket from him. He fished around in his pocket, finding only the slip of paper that she had written for him. Noting his puzzled look, she quickly took action.

“Oh, it slipped out of your pocket while you were sleeping.” She twisted to pluck his agenda off the table. She held it out to him and he took it back, giving her a soft look. 

He held it for a moment, thumbing over its surface. A twinge of guilt struck her for peering into his private schedules, but she thought it was better to keep quiet about it.

“Ah, thank you. Looking out for me as always.” He regards her with a content look, placing the book on top of his folded clothes, alongside his golden pocket watch. 

Shaking away the shame of her peeping into his agenda, she grabbed her own hand as she watched him rise from the couch. He stretched his arms up above his head for a moment, his tail lifted up as if following along. His amber eyes peered down at her, striking the realization into her that she had been silent. 

“You must be tired.” He observed, though not entirely untrue, it was the events of the evening that had her shushed. “No worries, I’ll help you clean all of this up within the next five minutes. That will give us fifteen minutes until the end of your schedule.” He estimated. 

Nodding, she pulled her blanket from her and got up to help Timothy clean up, listening as he hummed to himself as his tail swayed happily around. 

As they worked together, many things crossed her mind as she occasionally glanced over at him. His past which she knew little about, her name all in his agenda, him being comfortable enough to fall asleep against her, despite it being something she imagined he might have been embarrassed to do previously. She was uncertain about how it all fit together and didn’t want to speculate and project too much onto him. All she knew was one thing.

They had grown closer than she ever would have imagined. 

Her heart sank as her mind replayed his cry earlier. 

This firmed her resolve to be a better friend to him. She had to, not just for him, but for herself. 

Chapter Text

“How are you coming along?” 

The question was almost missed as she click-clacked on the keyboard of her laptop. The gentle inquiry came quietly from where her friend sat, his own task pulling his attention away as he wrote cleanly on her agenda. 

Finding the missing assignment in the student portal she used, she clicked on it and surveyed the directions for a due date. 

“This is the last one, due Wednesday.” She spoke up, taking up a pen to scry down her own list. 

They had agreed that she would write down the most close to being due assignments and he would write her schedule for today. She would list out all of her assignments and their due dates so that he could help her organize what blocks of time had to be planned to be able to complete them before the staggered due dates. It was a lot of work, not to mention, she had to study for multiple exams and re-read the textbooks she was assigned.

For one class, and she was embarrassed to admit it to Timothy, but she hadn’t done any reading for. He had the solution to have her scheduled bath time where she could read the text books. She agreed, saying that she’d have some of her favorite bath scrub handy during her test to sniff it and hopefully recall the material. It was some kind of psychological memory recall tip she heard from a friend once. It was worth a shot, at least. 

He was a big help, organizing this with her. Without him, this would be a big mess but he made her confident that she could get it all underway. He denied her proposal to stay up later to work, saying she needed her sleep and that there had to be a way to plan around sleeping a full eight hours. In the past, she would have just stayed up all night the day before things were due. There was still pressure for sure, but she didn’t feel it as much this time. 

Clicking his pen, he set it down on the kitchen table and held the planner up. 

“I have the entire evening until ten tonight scheduled out for you, providing time for breaks, dinner, and stretching every hour. It is scheduled in fifteen minute intervals and will pick back up in the morning, after your breakfast at nine. At our noon meeting, we will assess what you have been able to complete and adjust the following schedule." He announced, holding up his work for her to see.

“Wow, that’s really detailed.” She said, taking it in her hands. Even though she knew he was good at this, she was still impressed. “Thank you, I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

“Oh, nonsense and flattery, though I’m pleased to hear your praise.” He laughed to himself, his tail flicking against his leg. “Do you have your list completed?” He inquired, amber eyes peering across the table to her paper. 

“Mhm, it’s all done. If I get everything done today that you planned, that’s two out of eight assignments, plus the reading time in the bath tonight. I think I can do it all, this time.” She beamed, taking the schedule from him and looking it over. She envied his penmanship and tried not to compare hers and his. 

“You most certainly can, with proper adherence to the schedules, I believe you’ll have everything in tip top shape.” He smiled, his sharp teeth peeking behind his lips. 

Glancing at the time on the wall clock, she sighed. Fifteen minutes left. 

“So, I notice you have a pocket watch I haven’t seen yet.” She began, figuring they could chat for the remainder of their time since the task at hand was finished.

Surprised, his ears perked forward and he nodded eagerly. His eyes almost sparkled as he took it from his pocket. This one, notably, had no length of chain and instead had a loop as though it was meant to hang from a wrist or bag. 

Holding it out, it was a reflective gold, its exterior embossed with the design of a rose, thorns encircling the perimeter of the outer casing. The rose itself was enamel, a deep glossy burgundy that looked almost liquid. It was, as Liz could appreciate it knowing little about pocket watches, gorgeous. 

“This one is quite elegant on the outside, as I’m sure you’ll agree, but its interior holds a stunning secret.” He expressed in a bubbling enthusiasm, “It is, without a doubt, one of the most lovely things I have laid my eyes on.” He explained, holding the casing shut with two hands, his fingertips curling over the edge of the lid. 

“Really? Can I see?” She asked, leaning forward hoping the secret was something he would share with her. He closed his eyes and nodded, holding it up for her. 

“Why of course you can! Are you ready?” He asked, a wide grin spanning his face. She nodded and made sure to pay extra close attention.

She knew that caring for these watches was his proudest achievement, something he adored to share and talk about. Paying attention and letting him share them with her was the least she could do. She wanted to put forth that effort for him, to enjoy the thing that he loved the most. To be a safe space for him to share his passions.

He opened the casing and watched her admire it in delight. 

The clock face on the bottom was in the shape of a standard circle, but the hands were small rose stems, the flower blooming at the tips of the hands. The roses were, like on the case, colored with glossy red enameling. The notches that accompanied the numbers around the face were decorated with thorns that pointed inwards. On the top of the casing, was a mirror. It reflected her face back at her as she admired the watch. 

“Wow, you’re right. Those hands are so pretty. The enamel doesn’t weigh them down any?” She asked, and he shook his head. 

“Not in the slightest, as they are very thin and delicate.” He answered, before clearing his throat. “But for clarity’s sake, Elizabeth, I was making reference to whom was reflected in the mirror.” He offers, holding the watch open longer than he typically would. His eyes fixed on her face as she understood what he was hinting at. 

“Oh, pffft!” She responded with a hand wave, “You don’t have to flatter me.” She gave with a nervous laugh. 

“It’s not mere flattery. I truly think that.” He returned, matter of factly. 

His tail lashed for a moment as his face grew indignant. Her face felt warm as she studied him. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to wave off a compliment that he was giving her. 

“Well, thank you. You’re the most charming clock I’ve ever laid eyes on too.” She echoed back what he had said, earning a satisfied look from him.  

“I’m the only clock you’ve laid eyes on, maybe the best one, but still the point stands.” He gives, his cheeks rouging as he shut the pocket watch. She was about to agree with him, but he made a mistake. 

As he was putting the watch back, his elbow hit the back of her chair. She watched as the shiny, gold case slipped out of his gloved hands and towards the floor. In a moment of doom and fear as she understood what would happen to Timothy if that pocket watch hit the ground, she lept from her chair. 

Not really sure how she was able to pull it off, she thanked adrenaline and reflex for her ability to grab it before it hit the ground. But she herself wasn’t so lucky, as she crashed down onto the tile and onto her shoulder. Her friend watched her, his hands covered his mouth in shock as they both stared at each other in amazement. 

Leaning her head up, she quickly accessed the state of the watch as she had it cradled against her chest. It was thankfully unharmed in her grasp, and for that she was genuinely surprised as roughly as she had hit the tile. 

Without a word, Timothy leapt up from his seat to rush over to her. She held the watch out to him, assuming that’s what he was coming to grab. Instead, he grabbed her arm and rested his hand on her back to help her lean up. She winced, her shoulder flared with a dull ache, but it wasn’t the worst. She was sure some ice would get it back to better in no time. 

Of course, the clock didn’t miss the look on her face.

“Oh my cog! Elizabeth, you hurt yourself!” He exclaimed, his eyes widened as he looked at her shoulder. “All because of my clumsiness. I dropped my baby and you’re the one to be harmed.” His voice tinged with remorse. 

“It’s alright, it’ll just be a tad sore. It’s a good thing you scheduled a bath for me later.” She said with a laugh, trying not to flinch again at her shoulder. She looked down at the watch and held it up for him to take, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he tried to pull her up to her feet. He wasn’t getting great leverage, so she helped and pushed herself up. Biting back a groan, she got up and ignored that her hip hurt a bit too. 

“Ice pack. That one time you fell from a ladder in here, I recall you using an ice pack.” He spoke to himself, guiding her over to her seat. “Now, you sit here. I’ll get it for you.” Not giving her much choice, he pressed her down into the chair and spun around. 

She wanted to argue, but she herself would have gotten an ice pack after a fall like that. He pulled open the freezer and looked around before finding it, hurriedly pulling it from its place and coming over to pull a chair up. Sitting down beside her, he pressed it into her shoulder. 

“Right there?” He asked and she nodded. Instead of leaving her to take it into her own hands, he held it in place, his ears drooping. She felt odd, it was weird being taken care of so sincerely like this. It wasn’t even that big of a deal and he was treating her better than a nurse would.

“It’s not a big deal, Timothy. It’s not even going to hurt tomorrow.” She assured, but he remained at task. His watch was still cradled in her hands, as though she was holding a baby bird. 

Thinking about it, this was the first time she had ever even touched one of his treasures.

He had never let her touch them before, and here she was, holding it and he paid no mind to it. She could reason that leaping to the floor was reason enough for him to trust her with it, but it still shocked her. 

“Here, your watch.” She offered it to him, afraid of the precious cargo she held. 

Looking down at it, his ears swiveled forward and he looked surprised, as though he had forgotten it in the moment. 

“And in perfect condition, no doubt.” He sighed. “This is my fault. I was careless not to switch out the loop for a proper chain.” With a heavy voice, he took it from her, gently letting it settle in his pocket. 

When his eyes returned to hers, they sat silently for what felt like an eternity. He opened his mouth to say something, but his words died on his lips before he could. With his hand against the ice pack, he held her eyes in a steady gaze as he thought in silence. She didn’t want him to blame himself, it was just a little mishap and she’d be okay. She reached up, to take the ice pack into her grasp and his hand lingered there, as though unsure if he would allow her to take it. 

“Timothy…” Her voice trailed off as soon as it began. A pang of something familiar stabbed at her chest. 

“I don’t know how to thank you properly.” He began, his voice low. “I’m not sure what I would have done if it had broken, but now my dilemma is what I can do for you to show my appreciation.” With that, he let the ice pack weigh down into her hand, but he still stayed leaning over her.

“You do more than enough for me.” She answered back, trying to make her voice above a whisper. “Sometimes, you just have to accept care without having to return anything.” Her reminder gave him pause enough to take a deep breath. 

“Alright. I’ll accept that. As long as you accept this,” He leaned closer, his eyes intense, “I’ll make sure you have all of your assignments done and should you need help with anything, you are to tell me so I can serve you.” His eyebrows pinched forward to further his point. 

She tried not to frown, as she didn’t want to be “served”, but she nodded anyway. 

“Okay, I’ll let you know.” She relented and he gave her a bright smile. 

“Good. In that case, you have five more minutes to ice your shoulder. Should you need me to return and adjust your schedule because of your injury, let it be known that my evening has full availability to you.” He gave, beaming.

“No appointment?” she asked, making sure she understood him.

“That’s an offer so few get the privilege of getting.” He replied with a wink. 

She doubted her shoulder would prevent any work from being done, but she returned his enthusiastic smile. A whole evening for her, with no parameter of having to schedule talking to him? That was huge for him.

Ignoring the way that her heart had been beating heavier, she adjusted her ice pack. 

The heat from the bath, the exhaustion from the day, the persistent ache in her shoulder. It was all a recipe for making her too sleepy to pay attention to the book she was reading. 

That, and in her restlessness and her inability to focus, she thought a small chat with her bathtub would clear her mind. 

“Darling, you’re being such a drag. I mean, who reads college text books in the tub?” She drew out her words as she sat on the edge of the tub. 

“I know, Bathsheba, but I promised I’d at least get a few chapters in.” Liz admitted, watching the woman frown. 

“I would never taint a luxurious time with reading anything other than erotica, darling.” She pursed her lips, bubbles cascading down from her arms and dripping into the bath water. 

Lazily, she traced patterns in the water with her fingers, contact with her skin made the water fizzle like a bathbomb. A delicate, sweet amber aroma wafted off the surface. 

“Besides, what that Thomas doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. If he was really your friend, he’d never dull your shine, Lizzy.” The woman offered her advice, moving her sopping raven locks from the back of her neck to lay against her shoulder. 

“It’s Timothy.” She corrected, “I think having a second degree is pretty shiny.”

Speaking his name, her thoughts traveled back briefly to the events of the morning. Her saving his watch, him holding the ice pack to her shoulder, the look in his eyes when he told her he wanted to serve her. When he held that mirror, his eyes sparkling, all while he called her lovely... Another surge of feeling pierced her lungs, making it hard to inhale. 

She pulled the mass of bubbles closer to her chin for comfort. 

The tub gave a nonchalant hand wave.

“Is it? My point is, you try so hard to appease this Tommy, or whatever that little moggy’s name is. Why don’t you ever take charge and meet him on your time? You deserve better.” She offered, her voice unbothered as always. 

The woman gave her a satisfied smile. It was pointless to argue or to try to tell Bathsheba anything other than what she wanted to hear. Besides, she didn’t want to talk about him right now. She didn’t want to think about him right now. 

“I appreciate that.” Liz relented halfheartedly. The tub gave a shrill laugh and clapped her hands together. 

“Yes, I know, I know. I’m uplifting and kind, what can I say.” She responded in a haste. “Now that my good deed’s done, have you done anything about finding your girl some suitable friends?” 

With her question, Liz had a funny face pop into her mind. Cam. As much as Bathsheba was seemingly focused on looks and status, she felt like the trash can and her would have a hell of a time talking shit together. Besides, nothing seemed to affect Bathsheba and Cam would likely find her brashness amusing. 

“Not yet, but maybe soon.” Liz answered, sinking into the water to muse on it, her hair floating around her. 

Bathsheba groaned and rolled her eyes, readying herself to tear into her for not taking her problem more seriously. Liz didn’t mind.

It was a worthy distraction.

Chapter Text

The week had come along perfectly. 

Thanks to a perfectly curated schedule, nearly everything had been completed. Out of her four classes, she had three of their assignments done at this point and all she had were two more and the textbook to read. Everything was going wonderfully, her half hour meetings with Timothy would give her tweaks to her agenda and she would work as hard as she could. 

But now, she was at a low point. 

She was tired, ready for all of this to be done and drained beyond belief. She missed her clock friend, as she didn’t have as much time with him as she was used to. She had also, against Timothy’s advice, had to stay up late to catch up on the reading material. Sure it cut a chunk of work out, but she was feeling miserable today. 

Resting her head on the kitchen table, a hand came to lay on her shoulder and her heart fluttered.  

“Elizabeth, you stayed up reading, didn’t you?” his voice asked in a disappointed tone. 

Timothy had been scheduling out her agenda for her this time, factoring in the two hours in the evening that she had agreed she would watch her nieces. Why now of all times to watch the kids? When she was in the home stretch and feeling exhausted? And yet, the brightest glimmer of hope was her friend who promised that the last assignments could get done before noon tomorrow, before their due date. 

Peering up from over her arms, she leaned up out of her slouch and felt the heaviness in her eyes. 

“It needed to be read. I couldn’t help it, any other time I just couldn’t focus on retaining anything.” She murmured, watching as he pulled his hand away and continued to write down her agenda for the evening. 

“How many more chapters have you got left before you’re caught up?” He inquired, one ear aimed towards her as he focused on scheduling. 

“Two, so it’s not a huge deal. The other assignments tonight will be almost done, I’ll just set up the preprint in the morning and turn them in at noon. Of course, tomorrow evening is going to be filled with exams. They’re all due by eight, but I can knock them out.” She explained, rubbing her eyes. 

“You believe you can get them done by then? Even with how awfully fatigued you are?” He paused, giving her a cautioning look. 

“Yes, even if I have to stay up again. Derrick will be by to pick up the kids at five-thirty and I’ll have the rest of the evening to work.” She sighed, deflating against the table again. Muttering into her arms, she added, “Besides, Mac has talked me into updating their software, so the export speed of my projects should be quicker tomorrow.” 

“I see, it’s quite unfortunate that you must take care of the girls this evening. They’re so loud they give even me a headache.” He responded, crinkling his nose up, “You should take an ibuprofen before they arrive. I’ll schedule that.” He tapped the agenda with his pen as he scribed down that note. 

“Thanks, Timothy.” She mumbled, taking a slow breath in. “Thanks to you, all of this is wrapping up well. Even with the kids coming over.” Her thanks earned a softened laugh from him, his golden eyes looked up to meet hers. There was that feeling again, clenching her lungs.

“The credit goes to you. Remember, a schedule is useless if you don’t abide by it, and you my dear, have followed it wonderfully.” He offered, his eyes as kind as ever. My dear . She thrust it from her mind. 

“I’ve had great support.” She returned, before adding, “Don’t get used to it, next week I’m crashing hard. Couch day all week.” Her warning was rewarded with a look of arrogance from the cat as he leaned closer to her. 

“Suits me fine, as long as we can schedule more time to perfect my skills on that Project Diva game of yours. I’m completing a hard level next time, and you’ll see how great my timely precision is.” His challenge came with an evil grin, sharp teeth adding to the mischief. Her face heated up and she shook her head

“Hard mode is a lot more difficult than you think.” She gave it back to him, “Watch, you’re going to get out of sync and fail with that cockiness.” 

“Wishing for my downfall? How very unladylike of you, Elizabeth.” He retorted, haughty in his delivery, before mimicking some of her own childish behavior. He reached out to boop her on the nose, just a quick tap. 

She hoped he hadn’t noticed, but it had her in shambles. Normally, she’d be able to shake something like that off but her heart lurched and she forgot how to breathe. 

He noticed her lack of a response, the pause in the banter must have been weird. Oh, she made it weird. With wide eyes he studied her for a moment, and then looked at his hand. Curling his fingers inwards, his mischief left him as he took up the pen again. 

“Let us continue your schedule.” 

The cursor moved on its own as it danced around the screen, in a scavenger hunt of configuration files in her programs. 

It had been two hours of being on the phone before she was able to get someone to remote in with Anydesk. Two hours of wasted time that was supposed to be for finishing up and exporting her files. Now, all of that was hopeless. She really tried not to be angry, she really tried to keep her cool. 

And yet the dark haired person illuminated by RGB sat beside her dismally as they watched as the tech support representative moused through the files. The sullen expression they wore made her feel even worse.

“I’m so so sorry, Lizzy.” They said in a defeated voice, watching their own screen intently. 

“It’s not your fault, Mac. You had no idea.” Liz gave, trying to hide how she felt inside. Yet, the computer was ever perceptive and knew her better than anyone in the house. 

“I couldn’t have known that the new update would be incompatible with your programs. This bug will be patched, I’m certain of it.” They tried to assure, but Liz looked down at her lap.

“Thanks but… It’s too late. I can’t get to the files I need to export… and they’re due in an hour.” 

Mac looked at her with remorse, adjusting their glasses as they studied the screen

“There’s always a dip in your active screen time around noon.” They noted, giving her a soft look. “Maybe take a break and this will be fixed when you come back. I’d suggest interfacing with me to email your professors, but…” They trailed off, frowning. 

“It’s okay, I can send emails on my phone.” She replied, “I guess it doesn’t matter if I take a break now. There’s no way I’ll have this turned in by one. I just hope the professors let me turn it in late.” 

Her response earned a nod from Mac, who stared at the screen. 

“I’ll stay here and watch the technician.” They offered, before adding again, “I’m sorry.” 

With that, Liz got up and let her legs take her into the kitchen. She had a few minutes before noon, but she froze in front of the clock. 

What would she even say? Thanks for all your help, Timothy, but Adobe products are terrible and the new update destroyed my chances of turning my last two assignments in on time? 

They both had worked so hard this week, put so much effort into scheduling for every little thing. It was in her grasp, having all of it completed and ready to turn in. She would have had wonderful grades, she was sure of it. The evening was still filled with tests that she had to take and she was so upset, she didn’t know if she’d have the clear mind to take them effectively. 

Now, there was one class that wouldn’t even get the assignments period, at this rate. She really didn’t know if making perfect marks on the midterms would keep her grades up enough to keep her out of academic probation. She couldn’t lose her scholarship. It would cause a lot of financial problems for her if she did. 

She felt terrible, just terrible but she couldn’t allow herself to be upset yet. There was still so much to do and she didn’t want to make Mac feel bad, nor did she want Timothy to be disappointed in her. 

Barely registering that the clock read noon, she tried to keep her face stony as she pulled the dateviators down and clicked them on. 

Wearing a bright expression, her friend regarded her with all of the friendliness and mirth she was accustomed to, but this time she wished he hadn’t.

“There she is, our star academic. Tell me, had the schedule worked as perfectly as we planned?” His smile gleamed as he leaned in to hear the good news. 

As sweet as it would have been if everything had gone right, it was the worst thing he could have said to her if she wanted to remain composed.

Faced with his bright and welcoming demeanor, she couldn’t hold back her emotions. 

With a gasp, she broke, tears quickly filling up her eyes and beginning to fall down her face. 

In horror, his smile dropped from his face as witnessed her unfold. Wide, amber eyes flicked up and down her sobbing form as his mouth hung agape. 

It was so embarrassing, but she couldn’t control it. She took a step back, trying to turn away from him as she tried to hide her face. Her hand came up to cover her own mouth as she tried to will herself to stop. He didn’t deserve to have to immediately deal with this, with her breaking down in front of him. 

Yet, as though it was nothing, he grabbed her and pulled her into his chest.

Her chin rested against his shoulder as his grasp around her tightened, his arms draped over her. His warmth was a comfort, coaxing out more tears from her as she nuzzled her face down into the fabric of his tux. She could have sworn he tilted his head against hers, his hair tickling her ear. That same sweet, heavy oil-like scent infiltrated her senses as she sobbed into him.

He hummed softly as he mimicked what she had done in the past for him.   

Tracing long, easy circles along her back, he held her there as she came down from her cry, her breathing returning to normal. 

She was tired, so tired from her struggle this morning and her tears have sapped her. Liz was practically leaning against Timothy, but he held her up safely. 

As she focused on trying to dry her eyes, so she could explain to him what on earth was going on, she shuddered as his hand found her hair, his claws gently raking through it. 

Even after feeling emotionally drained from her cry, the gesture made her melt. She squeezed him harder, her breath feeling as though it was being sucked from her slowly. Not sure how long he had caressed her hair like this, she lamented when his fingers untangled themselves from her locks and came to her shoulder. He didn’t push her away, but his hands rested there as a suggestion.

Languidly, she tilted her head back as she loosened her grip on him. His face was close, deep concern clouded his golden gaze as he broke the silence between them.

“Now, now. Sit down and tell me everything. I’ll get you a tissue.” He instructed, earning a silent nod from her as she looked around to locate the chair. 

He broke away and she missed his warmth as she took a seat. He busied himself, starting the kettle and grabbing a few tissues from the countertop. 

Soon enough, he was in the other chair, knee to knee with her as she took the kleenex from his gloved hands. Wiping her eyes, she took a deep breath and began to explain. 

“The update I gave Mac wasn’t compatible with the Adobe software I use for my school work. The programs won’t even open, and haven’t all morning. There’s not a chance that I can finish the preprint on them before they’re due…” She peered over at the cat clock, “Forty-three minutes.” She gave the details and Timothy shared a look of sorrow with her. 

“So the schedule was disregarded… to no fault of you.” With his eyes closed, he sighed. “That’s terrible, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry to hear that.” 

“And we worked so hard. I don’t know why everything always falls apart at the end.” she added, her voice cracking. For a moment, she wondered if she would begin crying again.

Timothy reached out, taking her by surprise when he rested his palm against the side of her face, his expression soft as his brows lifted up. 

“You’ve put a lot of effort into this. You’re sure to get excellent marks on your exams this evening. I have faith that you’ll still pass this semester.” He offered in a low, sweetened voice. She hardly heard what he said as his smile gave her butterflies. 

She wanted to lean in, to close her eyes and cherish the moment. As much as she needed to focus on what encouragement he was giving her, there was only one thing that she could think.

His warm hand on her face, the steady look in his eyes. For a moment, he was all there was. In spite of everything, he was the only thing she could think about right now.

It was undeniable. Liz liked him. Her crush was too present to ignore and she had to acknowledge it. Her behaviors, the way he made her feel with the smallest gestures, the way he had been on her mind all week while she was supposed to be engrossed in her work. She had a crush on him. 

From down the hallway, a voice rang out, interrupting the moment. 

“Lizzy, the tech is finished! InDesign is operational again!” The voice of Mac called. 

Timothy, dropping his hand from her face, nodded in that direction. 

“You may have time yet. Go on.” The cat shooed her on, “I’ll see you tomorrow at noon?” He asked, head tilting. 

She nodded wordlessly, getting to her feet. 

With a simple goodbye, she clicked off the dateviators and made her way down the hallway. 

Pressing her hand over her thrumming heart, she exhaled. 

She had a crush on him, but she wasn’t celebrating.

Even with her projects being in limbo and her grades being in jeopardy, the realization that she had let herself fall for Timothy was the biggest devastation of the day.

Chapter Text

All things considered, the previous day ended well. 

After emailing her professors, they gave her the mercy of half credit for the late projects, which she was able to finish up and turn in. Her exams weren’t as daunting as she had feared and the answers came to her easily. Making an average grade on the tests, it was the two projects that she was waiting for now to be graded. It was all the difference between going on academic probation or being able to pass and keep her scholarship. 

With a promised grade by Monday, she opted to focus on the troubling matter at hand. 

Her achy body, sore throat, and sniffles. She even thinks she has a fever, but she hadn’t bothered using a thermometer. 

When Liz had watched the children, she could have sworn she heard Amelia coughing and wheezing, but with the winter months approaching, she thought it may just be the cold weather. It was like this every year, her nieces tended to pass whatever funk they had to her whenever she watched them. At least she was grateful for her good luck of falling ill after her midterms. She also had the good fortune to be in labor limbo, so all she had was time to recover.

Still, being sick sucked. 

Cradling a hot, lemon and honey tea, Liz looked up at the clock. A few minutes until noon. She’d just tell Timothy that she was sick and wouldn’t be able to see him for a few days. As much as the thought of not seeing him ached, it would give her time to consider the growing feelings she had for him. Laying in bed would give her all the time in the world to find her resolve to get over this. 

The conversation she had with Sam echoed back in her mind. 

Liz had feared this would happen eventually, that despite her efforts to keep her relationships with all of the objects friendly and somewhat at arms length, here she was with a crush. Liz cursed her bad luck, as it would have been easier if it was anyone else that she started to feel this way for. She could simply say she didn’t have time to see them, she was busy, or just stop showing up until she got her heart under control. 

But with Timothy? He knew her schedule and, often lack of, in and out. They had a set time every day to meet and… to be honest, she couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed if she told him she didn’t want to talk to him for a while. He’d want an explanation and she’d rather not put that on him.

As much as it was a drag getting sick, Liz figured this was a stroke of good fortune so she could try to get a game plan for her feelings. She knew that a few days away probably wouldn’t be enough for her to get over the crush completely, but it might help her wrap her mind around it all. 

It would give her time to accept that it wasn’t going to happen, and that she had to be okay with that.

Staring down at her tea, she exhaled, her chest feeling heavy. 

It was a minute until noon. 

Rising from her seat, she felt a bit dizzy but was able to rebalance herself. She cleared her throat, feeling the twinge of rawness that came with the gesture as she pulled down the glasses. Bringing him forward, she pushed aside the airy feeling in her lungs when she laid eyes on him.

His eyes looked her up and down, his expression flat for a moment before shifting into concern. 

“My, Elizabeth, you’re sick, aren’t you?” He asked delicately. It must have been obvious from her looks, as she stayed in pajamas and hadn’t bothered brushing her hair today yet. 

“Yeah, I think I got a cold from Amelia.” She responded, looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to see you for a few days until I get over this.” 

He frowned at her, his ear twitched as he put his hands on his hips. 

“Rubbish, I'm not leaving you to care for yourself.” He stated in that familiar stubborn way, the way that told her she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of it. “Now, come with me.” He reached out and took her by the elbow. 

She sputtered to protest, as this was the opposite of what she had planned. 

“W-wait, no. It’s okay. I just need rest.” Her words were ignored as she was led to the couch and guided down into the cushions. 

He busied himself, grabbing a couch pillow and tucking it behind her. She leaned up to assist him as he did so. Grabbing a blanket, he laid it over the top of her, pulling it up to her chin. It was an unnecessary gesture and would be endearing if she didn’t want him to leave her alone. 

“And you’ll get rest, my dear, because I’ll be here to get you anything you need.” He affirmed with an unshakable determination in his golden eyes as he took a seat next to her. “Now, I will admit, I’m no doctor, but I can recall how my previous owner dealt with colds.” 

He began to pull his glove off, exposing his bare hand. The soft pad on his palm pressed across  her forehead, in an attempt to read her temperature. She held her breath, trying not to look affected. No, this was not what she needed right now. This was not going to help her get over her little crush. His golden eyes narrowed as he studied her and adjusted his hand to lay on the side of her face. 

“Warm, yes. A fever, I do think so. However, I have no real metric for judging this sort of thing.” He spoke aloud to himself, sighing. “Your face is flushed, Elizabeth.”

As she struggled to come up with some kind of response that would convince him to leave, he released her face and slipped his glove back on. Tapping his chin, he thought aloud. 

“Ibuprofen for fevers… I do believe that’s right.” His eyes traveled over to her, a warm look crossing his features. “Don’t worry, I’ve decided to put my schedule on hold until I’m certain you’re better. I’ll go pay a visit to Farha and brew some fresh tea for you.”

“Timothy, it’s really not a big deal. It’s just a cold, I can take care of it myself.” She tried to assure him but he tsked at her. 

“I have no doubt that you can take care of it yourself, but why should you when you have me offering my care? You need to learn to accept help as much as you’re willing to give it. I’ll hear no arguments otherwise.” His brows were pinched forward with a seriousness that was hard to combat. 

What could she say? 

Blowing a breath from her lips, she settled down into the cushions. 

“Okay. I’ll stop arguing. Thank you.” In her defeat, he offered her a wide grin.

“Atta girl, Elizabeth.” He cooed, pushing himself off the couch. “You just wait here and I'll be back in six minutes exactly with your tea and ibuprofen.” With his promise, he strode off, leaving her alone on the couch. 

Letting her hand ghost across where he touched her face, she closed her eyes and tried to settle her heart beat. With her plans dashed, she was just going to have to ignore her feelings until she had more time to process them. 

Letting the clinking sound of Timothy getting tea ready in the kitchen soothe her, she tried to lean back and relax, comforted by the blanket that he draped over her. 

A noise stirred her from her slumber. 

It was gentle, low, but detectable in the stillness of her living room.

At first, she wasn’t sure if she heard it at all, but as she woke, the sound continued. She keened in on it, being something that was close by. Stirring on the throw pillow, she let her eyes open, still heavy from her nap. 

She still didn’t feel well, her head pounded as she lifted it up. 

In front of her, on the edge of the cushion, was the jet black of Timothy’s hair. His head was laid there, as he sat on the floor and leaned against the couch. And the sound was coming from him. A low, rattling rumble, soft and droning in and out. 

He was purring. 

Liz was stunned, surprised that he could do that. 

She had never heard him do it before, wondering if he was doing it in his sleep. 

The answer came when he looked up at her, ambered gaze soft as he blinked at her. 

“Ah, you’re awake. You slept for two hours and thirteen minutes, a good sized nap.” His purring was cut short, fading away on his words. He acted as though nothing had happened.

Holding his gaze, she pressed her lips together. Why did he have to look at her with such gentleness? Why did he have to go and do something undeniably adorable to her like purring? It was so unfair, not to mention how close his face was as they shared the same cushion. 

Leaning up, he rested his shoulder against the couch, rising above her a bit.

Reaching over her, he grabbed a cup from the coffee table and brought it down to her. 

“Here, drink some water for now. In a bit, if you’re up to it, I’ll prepare some more hot tea.” His offer came as he held the cup to her lips, expecting her to drink from his hand. 

She couldn’t accept this kind of care from him right now, not with how she felt. She needed to force herself to be more independent so that he couldn’t care for her so intimately. Pushing herself up, Liz took the cup from him and took a sip or two of water, recoiling at how the cold irritated her raw throat.  

He frowned at her, having noted how she winced. 

“Actually, maybe warm tea would be better now? What do you say?” He asked, his voice coaxing as he took the water from her and placid it back on the table. 

She tried to speak, but her throat being sore made it difficult. Instead, she nodded and he got to his feet. 

“Very well, I’ll return soon.” He promised in a chipper way. He quickly disappeared from the living room and she sat there, still a bit groggy from her nap. 

This was unfair. She could take care of herself and having him around right now wasn’t what she needed, even if she could bring herself to very selfishly indulge in his care. It wasn’t about what she wanted, she reminded herself. It was about what was best for everyone involved and she’d have to be responsible and show restraint. 

Still, it was too late to tell Timothy to leave her be now. He had spent all afternoon with her, giving her medicine, making hot tea for her, making sure she had fluids. If she wasn’t certain he wasn’t, she’d wonder if he was a professional care taker. He had said that he learned this from the person whose house he lived in before. She wondered what other stuff he picked up from his previous home. 

She wanted selfishly to know all about it, about him and the things that made him who he was. At what threshold was that drive to learn about Timothy her own curiosity versus wanting to indulge herself with more knowledge about him? At what point was her admiration for him intertwined with her crush? She tried to pinpoint the exact moment she started feeling this way, but it was mirky. With being sick, it was even harder to concentrate. 

Liz acknowledged that she spent much more time thinking about Timothy, wanting to adhere to his boundaries and letting him into her life than any of the others in her house. Maybe this had started at the beginning? Because she loved that clock so much already? Her favoritism for him ran deep and perhaps that was the first domino to fall in all of this.

Covering her face, she sighed as she tried to think about what it all added up to. 

How long would she feel this way? Would she be able to handle it, even with seeing him everyday? She didn’t know if she could stomach seeing him smile and laugh with her at every scheduled time they had together without feeling crushed that she was forcing herself to act by a code of conduct. If she were Sam, she’d already be looking at ways to confide in him, to test him and see if he felt the same way. 

Did he? Could he have feelings for her?

The thought was tantalizing, but the more she considered it, the more unsure one way or the other she was. There were small, little things he would do that some would call flirting, but in some cases could just be friendly teasing. What would she do if he did have feelings for her one day? How could she look him in the face and tell him that she couldn’t return anything because she needed to be ethical in the way she approached all of the objects in her care? 

She needed to scream into a pillow. 

Unable to release her frustration, she tried to act normal as the object of her tortuous thoughts appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup of tea balanced carefully in a saucer. Gently, he placed the saucer on the coffee table to cool, again coming to have a seat on the floor next to her. He crossed his legs and placed his hands in his lap, his tail snaked behind him. 

“I’ll let that cool for two minutes, that should be enough.” He remarked, once again tugging his glove off. “Are you feeling any better from how you were this morning?” He asked. 

She considered lying for a moment, telling him she was feeling much better and that she would be fine by herself but she had a feeling he would catch on. He was too smart for that, she thought. 

“It’s the same. Maybe I feel just a bit better now.” Liz admitted, opting for honesty. He hummed in disappointment, bringing his ungloved hand to her forehead again. His touch felt cool, the bounciness of his palm was a unique feeling against her skin. 

“Your temperature seems to have gone down.” He noted aloud as he briefly held his hand to her forehead. 

Her thoughts turned deranged as she considered how the texture of his hands might feel against her bare skin, how they might trace over her most sensitive parts. The thought came, her shame caught up to her, and she pushed it away as quickly as she could. Instead of letting the warm feeling in her face affect her, she decided to try and distract herself. 

“How did you learn all of this? About caring for sick people and checking temperatures? You said it was from your previous home but…” She trailed off, her voice was gravely and she had to strain to speak. 

He took his hand from her and placed it back into his lap, his eyes seemed to search her face as he thought. She hoped that she hadn’t messed up by bringing it up, but he began to explain regardless.

“I simply picked it up over time. Admittedly, I don’t know much of anything about how you humans feel when you’re sick, but the woman who cared for me had three kids. They all got sick often and so you can imagine how much I watched her help them. I never imagined at the time it would ever come in handy.” His voice was soft and low as he recalled his past, gaze trained away from her as she imagined his memories played in his mind’s eye. 

“So all of this is what you saw her do?” Liz confirmed and he gave a nod. 

“Precisely. There was a lot that I witnessed there. Sometimes, I despised being in that living room. Television can be such a horrendous waste of time. I thought I would never enjoy what it had to offer and seeing Annette sit there and watch it all afternoon when I used to watch her enjoy her passions was an insult. She looked at me a lot less when the television was on.” His eyebrows pinched together at his memory, a frown finding its way onto his lips. She would have laughed if she felt up to it. 

“What passions did she have?” She asked and Timothy huffed. 

“What didn’t she? In all of the time I watched her, she would switch between hobbies every few months. She did scrapbooking, needle felting, beadwork and all sorts of other little things. Back then, she’d plan out an hour here or there to indulge herself. Her husband always built model railroads, and that continued for years. Regrettably, never in the living room. I never got to see the models fully built. It’s a shame.” He recalled with a sigh. 

Liz took it in for a moment and gave him a nod to continue. 

“Of course, as they both got older, neither of them did much with their hobbies any more. Even Annette’s favorite passion, crochet, was too much for her hands. I believe that’s why they both watched television so often. As much as I disregarded watching shows as a proper use of time, there was one show that I would enjoy in the latter days of Annette’s life.” He paused, as though embarrassed to say the next part. 

“Really, you came around?” Liz asked, her voice a whisper to try to preserve it. 

“Downton Abbey. Can you believe it?” Timothy gave a sharp chuckle in spite of himself, “It felt like less of a waste of time that could be spent on something else. Unlike this other horrendous show that came on around the same time. About a teacher who made and sold drugs. Terrible premise for a story, yet the sons who would visit would share it with their father.”

“I could see you liking Downton Abbey…” Liz mused aloud, thinking back to all of the gentlemanly behaviors that the clock would exhibit from time to time. It made sense. “Although, I’ve never watched it myself.” 

He held her gaze for a moment, his lips parting before he began talking again, his moment of hesitation lingering.

“I’ll admit… I wasn’t too excited to watch that movie with you last week. I thought it would remind me of her, you see. It was nice, Elizabeth, I actually felt as though I was sharing an experience with you instead of witnessing it secondhand.” He paused, looking down at his lap, “I never thought I’d be able to have my time enriched by a film like that, and most of all that someone would schedule it so. I don’t know why I had to fall asleep, I'm ashamed to be frank.” 

With his confession, her chest clenched as she took it in. Enriched, he had said. It was the same thing Sam had said that day they had their talk. 

“Don’t be, you can always watch it again sometime. Not just that, anything else you want to.” She soothed, and he gave her a sad smile. 

“I’d like that. I’m simply…” he paused and took a deep breath, “I simply wonder why it’s now, with you, that I’m able to participate in the world around me like this. Why is it now that I can help out and make tea and not then while Annette was slowly fading away. Why couldn’t I help then? Why couldn’t I give her the comfort that she provided me in her home?”

His eyes glistened with regret and sorrow. For a moment, she wondered if he would cry. Instead, he inhaled and smiled, blinking away any tears that may have fallen. 

Liz didn’t know what to say, only that she wanted to be there to comfort him if he needed it again. She held out her hand for him, freeing it from under the blankets. He cast a glance at it and took her offer, resting it in her palm. The warm, paw-like surface of his hand squeezed her. 

“I think… perhaps I can take it as a lesson for myself, as much as I like to try and share wisdom with others. That time is fleeting and making the most of it with the hobbies and people you care for is the most valuable thing you can do. I assumed that a curated schedule was the only way to wrangle the most meaning into the present, and while yes I am certainly correct in that assumption, there are times that is simply not the only truth.” His voice was careful and measured as he spoke, his words a proclamation. 

Liz wasn’t sure if he was telling her this, or speaking aloud for himself, but she squeezed his hand back as permission to continue. 

“As you may have noticed, since you’ve been nothing but respectful of my penchant for planning every minute of my day, no such schedule has been put into motion for this evening. There would have been a time that I would baulk at the idea, it was outright unacceptable!” He shook his head and harshened his gaze to sell his point, before closing his eyes. “However, I admit that caring for you while you’re sickly, even without the safety of an agenda, has been no less gratifying.” 

After sharing his epiphany, he scanned her face with determined, penetrating eyes. 

She blinks as he holds her eyes captive. If she wasn’t sure that this was just how Timothy was, she would swear she was listening to the words of someone talking to their life partner. Still, she couldn’t help but read into his words. There were two possibilities of how he could possibly mean what he said. First, Timothy regarded her highly as a friend and felt comfortable and trusted her enough to share this with her. His words had always been sincere and flowery, ever since she first met him so this was nothing out of the ordinary. 

The second way she could read into this was that he possibly had feelings for her. It was unfounded, but the possibility wouldn’t be eliminated until she knew for sure. She needed to find out quickly because it would determine how she behaved around him going forward, if she didn’t want to have any messy or hurtful incidents later on. 

She needed to tread lightly, as if he did have feelings for her, she needed to be able to deflect any flirting or attempts to get closer to her. If, however, this was just purely platonic, then behaving in any different way might be just as harmful since he’s just being friendly. 

She didn’t want to hurt him at all, in any way. 

For cog sake, what does she do? It’s all overthinking at this point until she figures it out. 

“That being said, Elizabeth, you’re going to let me take care of you until you’re better and you cannot wiggle your way out of it. Do not even try.” He smiles, flashing his teeth as her as he takes his hand from hers. “Now, drink your tea. I will be sleuthing one of your recipe books for a soup for dinner.” 

With that, he grabs the saucer and holds it out for her to take. She stares at it for a moment, taking it slowly as the liquid has cooled and no longer steamed. 

She took a sip and it was warm, but not hot. It had most certainly been longer than two minutes since he placed it there, but he hadn’t seemed to be bothered by that fact. He rose to his feet and was beginning to head to the kitchen before she spoke up. 

“Wait, Timothy.” she called out, having him stopping in his tracks. 

“Yes?” He asks, his ears perking towards her. 

“Thank you for sharing your past with me. I know it’s tough to talk about for you but…” she was halted as a tickle in her throat sent her into a short coughing fit. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a small grin. 

“It’s okay, rest your voice. There’s no one else I’d rather share it with.” His words were mirthful, his eyes crinkled up with content before he turned away. 

Left once again in the living room alone, she sipped at the tea, her throat beginning to feel better already. 

Chapter Text

A day had gone by since Timothy started caring for her. 

While she hadn’t seen her fever return, she did still have body aches and her throat had only slightly gotten better at this point. 

The clock had done a wonderful job of taking care of her. While she had cursed the idea of him staying with her as she tried to navigate her developing feelings for him, she relished in what he had shared with her. It was a double edge sword, learning more about him, feeling more and more comfortable with him. She enjoyed him and his time spent with her, but it hurt. As much as she wanted to lean into him, Liz had to pull herself back. 

She was still concerned with her behaviors and her authority over the house, how that could affect Timothy in the long run. The only thing worse than having him close with such a deep crush on him would be how terrible it could be if she was wrong or if they didn’t work out. The idea that he would be there on her wall afterwards would haunt her. Selling him would seem too harsh, continuing to burden him with talking to him would give her too much of an unhealthy power dynamic, and just never talking to him again would be cruel. There would be no winning if they were to split.

But what if it worked out? 

Shaking the delusion from her mind, she couldn’t count on that. Her previous relationships had fallen apart over one thing or another, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes it was their fault, others it was her fault, and often they both just were incompatible. There was no guarantee it could work out between them and she didn’t want to hurt him and leave him with more trauma. She could handle it herself, even if she had to suffer until she got over the crush. 

Still, she was yet to determine how he felt about her. 

It didn’t matter, but at least she could tread more carefully. 

For now, she just waited it out. Trying to figure this all out while sick was only a mental strain for her. 

The warm, bubbly water soothed her body aches. It wasn't too warm, but warm enough like a cozy hug. She hadn’t drawn the bath for herself, as Timothy hadn’t let her. No, he ran it himself and tested the water to make sure it was perfect. 

He had left the dateviators with her and she had called Bathsheba to keep her company for the meantime, as the clock had gone back downstairs. 

The previous night, he had managed to make soup, but he had scalded the potatoes a bit. It was still delicious, but he vowed he would try and do better next time. He had even admitted that the texture of the raw potatoes was nearly unbearable for him, but he persevered for her. This time, he opted for something more easy and was trying to make ramen. She was proud of him for trying something new, and honored that he was doing it for her. 

It was endearing, just like everything he did.

“You know, if I were you, I’d keep that little creep around to cook all my meals.” Bathsheba laughed aloud, earning a glare from Liz. 

She lifted her eyebrows in challenge as she waited for what the homeowner would say in response, leaning over the edge of the tub with both arms propped up. 

“Don’t call him a creep. He’s been really helpful to me. If he comes up here, I want you to be nice to him.” Liz warned, already wondering if she had made a mistake bringing the woman out. 

She liked Bathsheba, but sometimes she could be overbearingly mean. Liz read into it as soothing some kind of insecurity that the bathtub had, but it didn’t make it any more tolerable. As much as the woman yearned for new friends, she certainly could be unfriendly sometimes. At least she was always nice to her. 

“On second thought, I’d never let him touch my food. Who wants fur in their dinner?” Bathsheba mused, curling her fingers to smooth her thumb over her finger nails.

“I think it’ll be okay. He did fine last night.” Liz defended him, swirling her hand lazily in the water to displace the bubbles on top. 

The woman blinked at her, dark scanning seemingly looking right into her. She pursed her lips and gave her an irritatingly knowing look. 

“You’re just saying that because you have a filthy little crush on him. Don’t deny it sweetheart.” Bathsheba gathered, eyes narrowed as she watched her. 

Liz’s cheeks felt warm, having been called out. Not even Sam knew about this yet, as with being sick Liz hadn’t exactly had the time to call her friend about the matter. 

“You got me…” Liz admitted, trying not to stammer her words. “I can’t help it, I like him a lot in fact.” It felt weird saying it out loud, as though she made it truer with her confession. Maybe it would be easier to handle once she had a long conversation with Sam about all of this? She needed a friend and she wasn’t sure Bathsheba would be the most supportive. 

“Oh, you can’t be serious.” The bathtub deflated, her eyes creased up as her face twisted with disgust. She raised her head and made a fake wretching sound. “Ew, disgusting! Lizzy, you can’t seriously have feelings for- for that thing!” She punctuated with another gag. 

Giving the women a flat, unenthused look, she sank into the water. 

“I didn’t expect you to understand.” Liz muttered, her lips barely above the water. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to pursue anything with him so you don’t have to gag anymore.” 

Liz felt too tired to argue or try to lie at this point. Besides, it’s not as though Bathsheba had a lot of friends to gossip to anyway if she knew the truth. 

“Oh that’s a relief!” She exclaimed, pausing for a second before her eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?” her question was only natural. 

Liz considered telling Bathsheba to forget it, as she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to explain about her intentions with the objects. Maybe a dumbed down, vague answer would work? It’s not like the bathtub inquired much more about her than the most surface level stuff anyway. She doubted the woman would care enough to pry more. 

“Well, because-” She stopped, thinking about it for a moment. “Because I'm not sure it would work out for us… you know, in the long run.” Liz answered as vaguely as she could. The woman waved her hand and rolled her eyes. 

“And that’s your problem because…?” She urged on, but when she got no response, she huffed. “Ugh, what I mean to ask is why should you be the one to worry about that, darling? Again, has your girl taught you nothing about never dulling your shine? Have your fun and never look back.” 

The dark eyes of the tub sparkled as though sharing some sage wisdom about her situation but Liz disapproved. She pushed herself up out of the water a bit, wondering if her bath should be brought to an end. This wasn’t really making her feel any better, as Bathsheba was dense as ever. 

“That’s a little harsh, Bathsheba. I don’t want to be careless.” She said, looking around for a towel. Laying her eyes on it, she leaned up and grabbed it, drying her hands. 

“Why not? Aren’t you more miserable holding yourself back? Stressing will give you wrinkles. Just look at me, I never worry about others and you see how gorgeous I am?” The woman posed, as if to embody the perfect visual example of what point she was trying to make. 

Shaking her head, Liz flipped the drain switch and the water began sinking down. She got to her feet, turning her back to Bathsheba, still a little shy in her nudity in front of her. Liz had learned her lesson about being nude in front of the objects with Timothy already. Sighing, she wondered if it was worth it to argue with the woman or try to explain as she ran the towel over herself.

“Look at it this way… I’ll worry less now than I would later if things fall apart. I’m setting me and everyone else up for an easier time, even if it’s less fun right now for me.” She explained, hearing the woman tsk behind her. 

“Fine, I don’t understand at all, but have it your way. I for one would be sickened by the PDA that would come out of that mess anyhow.” She deflected, and Liz could almost hear her roll her eyes from behind her. 

Once she was dry enough, she wrapped the towel around her top half, wearing it like a dress for the time being. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Liz half meant, taking her first step out of the tub. She was a bit wobbly from her bath, still achy from her little flu, but managed to rest her feet on the bath mat without fault. “Can I ask you to keep this between us? I don’t want him to know.” 

The woman leaned back, almost insulted by what Liz asked, a scowl on her face. 

“Pssh, I wouldn’t dream of talking to him if I can help it.” She stated, before adding with a laugh, “Though I wouldn't promise not to tell my friends… If I had some. Hello, Lizzy, you’re slacking off in that department!” She called out, as if requesting room service. 

Liz frowned and wrapped another towel around her hair.

“You know what? I have just the friend for you. Have you ever met Cam?” She asked, and Bathsheba lit up, leaning forward and letting little drips of suds hit the tile. 

“You have! Wonderful. Cam, Cam… hm, can’t say it rings a bell.” She placed her fingers over her lips as she tried to recall. 

“When I’m not sick, I’ll introduce you too. I believe your personalities would mesh really well.” Liz offered, squeezing at her locks through the towel. 

“Splendid, you better not flake out.” She clapped her hands together with a shriek, “I’m excited, I wonder what kind of conversation we’d have? If they’d treat me like the princess I am?” She wondered aloud, though Liz didn’t get the opportunity to answer.

A knock at the bathroom door alerted them both. 

With the knock, a familiar voice called, muffled by the door. 

“Elizabeth.” 

Bathsheba muttered something from behind her, likely something mean. Shooting the bathtub a look of warning, she reached out to open the door. Letting him in, Timothy remained close to the doorway as he stepped forward. Liz halfway hid behind the door, not entirely certain if Timothy would be perturbed by seeing her in a towel.

He gave Bathsheba a short nod of acknowledgement before he turned to Liz, seemingly ignoring the towel dress she wore. 

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked, his tail held high as he studied her face. 

“Yeah, the bath helped a lot.” Liz assured, wondering if he came up because he needed guidance on ramen or if, maybe, it was finished. 

“You’re welcome darling. You-” Bathsheba interjected, pointing a finger at Timothy and taking to her feet, sauntering over. She pouted down at them, as she was taller than both of them. “You can shoo. Lizzy and I aren’t done talking.” 

She opened her mouth to try to diffuse the situation, but Timothy jumped to defend his interruption, clearly insulted by her dismissal. 

“Apologies, but Elizabeth has spent enough time here with you. Ramen needs to be enjoyed quickly lest the noodles get soggy.” He informed in a matter of fact way, his brows pinching together to emphasize his point.

“No, I don’t think she has. If she spent more time with yours truly then she’d appreciate herself more and wouldn’t let some-” Bathsheba paused before adding the insult with a bite in her voice, “Fish-breathed feline drag her around every day.” 

Timothy’s eyes narrowed down into slits and his tail bristled. 

“Now see here! That crass, unfounded slander is no way to speak to me or anyone else. I will not have it!” He started in, a harsh edge to his voice. 

“Oh, is kitty angry?” Bathsheba gave a mock baby voice before laughing out loud. “You’re pathetic, really. I don’t see why Lizzy bothers spending so much time with you, of all people. Why not someone gorgeous like me?” 

Timothy stared at her, clenching his hands together as his tail lashed behind him. His ears laid flat against his dark hair, but he held his tongue when Liz spoke up. 

“Bathsheba.” Liz warned through clenched teeth, her anger starting to flare up. Maybe if the tub had any respect for her at all, she’d cut it out. Instead, the woman clicked her tongue at her. 

“What? I’m simply asking.” She asked in an innocent tone, “ Look at him! He’s an animal! Practically begging to give you cat scratch fever. Just watch this.” 

And in the meanest act that Liz has seen since high school bullies ruled her life, Bathsheba grabbed a small handful of bubbles and flicked them onto Timothy’s face. 

The suds clung in clumps as they slid down his cheeks and left wet trails. His eyes were squeezed shut as he recoiled, bringing his hands up defensively before he realized what had occurred. A cat-like hiss escaped his lips, a real hiss as he let his eyes open and glower at the bathtub. 

She cackled, and clapped her hands together, a few suds that still remained on her palms were sent flying by the action. 

“See? A hiss! I told you!” Bathsheba gave, delighted at her discovery. Liz stared at her in shock and anger at what she had just pulled. 

“Fine!” Timothy spat, turning on his heel to leave. “Just fine! I’ll go!” he snapped, making his way out of the room in a rush. 

She reached for him, but just missed him. 

“What is your problem? I told you I wanted you to be nice to him!” Liz nearly shouted in her hoarse voice, trying not to let her surge of anger get the best of her, but she was still reeling from how out of line it was.

“Nice? You saw how he reacted and you’re defending him?” Bathsheba gawked in shock at the criticism that Liz wasn’t sure how she didn’t expect. Hell, if she was Timothy, she might have scratched Bathsheba herself. 

“Yes! You flicked bubbles in his face after you called him fish breath! You’re mean, Bathsheba. Keep this up, and you’ll never have friends.” Liz reprimanded her, reaching around the woman, who stood relatively unaffected, to grab a handful of tissues. 

“I don’t see the issue here, but go on. He was the embarrassing one but go! Run off to your little friend!” The tub called after her. 

Liz didn’t stay behind to listen, instead grabbing and clicking off the dateviators. She shut the bathroom door and stepped out into the cool, dark bedroom. Surprised to find a figure in the dark, she was relieved she didn’t have far to go to find him. 

With her presence, he glanced up at her as he smoothed his bristled tail out with his gloved hands, a bit of static made the fur cling to the cotton. Not hesitating, she made her way over to him, holding the tissues up. 

“Here, let me get that.” She spoke, her throat a bit sore from yelling just a moment ago. He turned towards her, his eyes lingering on the tissues as she closed the gap between them. 

She carefully drug the tissue down his cheek, collecting the suds as they were soaked up. All of the anger he had a minute ago was lost, replaced in a hush with melancholy. He didn’t have to say anything, his mood was so easy to read that she almost felt it with him. 

“I don’t understand why everyone is so cruel to me. What did I do to deserve treatment like this?” He half asks, his voice heavy with disappointment. Liz shook her head and continued to wipe at his face.

“Don’t listen to her, I think she’s jealous of how much time I spend with you.” She offered, but Timothy didn’t seem soothed. Instead he sighed, his shoulders drooping. 

“I didn’t choose to look this way with these-” He paused as if anxious to say the next part, opting instead to say, “These unfortunate feline features. Elizabeth, I fear you’re the only one here that appreciates me for who I am.”

Taking in his words, she stilled in her mission to wipe his face clean, struck with the realization that she’d have to respond. She wanted to lean into him, to assure him that she cared and that he didn’t deserve what Bathsheba did. However, she needed to be cautious as to not let her own affection for him lead her to overdo it. 

But then again, maybe she already had. 

It was then that she realized what exactly she was doing and how it could be perceived. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, in her dim bedroom, she was inches from his face and wiping suds from his cheeks. How could this not be seen as intimate? 

In her stillness, his eyes traced over her face, lowering into a half-lidden gaze as he tilted his head into her hand. Part of her wanted to leap back and snatch her hand away as a jolt of electricity pierced her lungs. Instead, she held her breath, afraid if she didn’t her breathing would betray her. She needed to get away from him, being this close was too much for her. 

Yet, she was transfixed, motionless in place as they held each other’s eyes captive. Why didn’t he pull away or interrupt this? Why had he leaned into her? Why couldn’t she pry herself away?

His lips parted, his words strained at first. 

“Are- ahem,” He tried to correct his voice, “Are you feeling okay? Perhaps you’re dizzy from your bath?” He suggested, reaching up to take her wrist. He didn’t pull her away, instead letting his gloved fingers wrap around her and hold her in place.

“Yes, I uh…” She trailed off, the spell broken as she looked away and blinked. “I’m a little overheated, I need a minute to sit. Alone.” She added, glad to have an out to whatever that was that she just did. 

Gently, she pulled her wrist from his grasp and took a step towards her bed. He gave her a sympathetic look and an understanding nod. 

“Yes. Right.” He took a step towards the door that led to the hallway, “Please, take a few minutes, five to be exact. I’ll have your soup ready for you then.” 

With that, he was gone, his footfalls echoing up the staircase. 

What was wrong with her? 

Did she have to make this more difficult for herself with stupid little mistakes like this?

Grasping the tissue, she plopped down onto her bed and tried to focus on letting her cheeks cool and her heart settle. She did feel dizzy, but she knew it wasn’t the bath water. Oh, this was going to be a problem. More of a problem than she anticipated if she could control herself enough not to make goo-goo eyes at him the first chance she gets that close to him.

Groaning, she buried her face in her hands and tried to breathe. 

Timothy liked her too. 

He had to. There couldn’t be a platonic explanation for how he leaned into her hand like that, how he gazed at her with that look in his eyes. She tried to second guess herself, but ended up with more confusion. Could it be a platonic gesture? There was no way she was reading too much into this. He had to like her, or just be somewhat attracted to her in some way, right? 

The worst part was that she didn’t know for sure. She had suspicions, but she didn’t know. 

Her heart ached as she sat up, his effect had worn off on her for now. Needing to get dressed, she let her fingers trace over where he had held her. 

The sheets were cool as she shifted around, trying to find comfort. Undecided if she was more at ease with her head on or off the pillow. 

Her flu symptoms felt better and she was certain she’d feel good as new by tomorrow. Afterall, she had the best care she could hope for these past two days. 

Despite this, she was restless. Despite feeling better, she was more awake now than she had any right to be for well past midnight. 

After she had the ramen that Timothy made her, he urged her to take more medicine and get her rest for the evening. Which she did, retiring early to bed only to lay here in her own miserable thought spiral as she replayed the past two days in her head. 

How he took such good care of her, how he confided in her his past, how tender it all felt. He hadn’t been there with her every second, often saying he needed to take a leave for a few hours. She assumed that he couldn’t be out of his natural state for too long, but she was glad. It gave her time to cool off between each time he was accidentally too close to her. 

Her thoughts replayed what happened a few hours ago, how close they were, the warmth of his face against her palm. His hand around her wrist when he grabbed her. 

Ugh, the thoughts began to creep up on her, thoughts about how else he could grab her, how his hands might drag and linger on her bare skin. 

She imagined his hot breath as he might let his mouth explore her neck, how the sharp prick of his teeth might snag her flesh and leave little bruises on her. Would he pepper kisses over his bite marks? Would he trail his tongue over them?

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her comforter close to her face, burying it into the fabric as she urged herself to quit. It wasn’t that easy, as her imagination continued to spiral away from her control. 

The recollection of his claws dragging along her scalp caused her to shudder as she pictured his hands tangled in her locks. She didn’t know if he would tug her hair, but instead focused on what would urge him to. Would he lose his gentle facade in the heat of the moment? Would he grab her harshly and dig his claws into her as he was close to coming undone. 

What would that look like? His face red, eyes blown wide, hair mussed and damp with sweat. The taste of him on her tongue as she guided his head back so that she could bite and nip at him. Oh, what sounds would he make? She could almost hear his sighs and moans. 

She squeezed her thighs together, that warm, pooling sensation reminding her of how far gone her daydreams had taken her. 

This was unfair. Doing this to herself, doing this to him. She leaned into the sickly sweet comforts of her mind instead of allowing herself to feel guilt for more than a fleeting moment. Shifting her hips a bit, she let her hand travel down and slip beneath the waistband of her sleep  shorts. Her fingers brushed over her clit, the warm wetness coating her and making her own touch more inviting. 

This needed to be flushed from her system. 

Sucking in a breath, she ran her fingers between her folds, moistening them with her eagerness. If she wasn’t lost in the pursuit of chasing her thoughts to their end, she’d be a little impressed with how wet she had become from just a few minutes dwelling on someone. 

But this wasn’t just anyone, this was Timothy. Her charming, inviting, clock with more sincerity than anyone she had met in years. 

Pressing her face deeper into the comforter, she let her imagination aid her as she stroked and teased her clit. Letting her brain guide her in picturing him as he might do the same to her. Would he be gentle with her ? Lingering, exploratory touches? Long, slow, circular movements as he rubbed his thumb over her? Soon, that electric, tingling feeling that made her feel numb was creeping under her touch.

She wanted more. 

Taking a finger, she abandoned her clit and pushed inside. Slowly, she curled it and let it tickle that spot she loved. She added another finger and took a deep breath as she moved. What would he feel like? Liz had no indication of how girthy or long he would be, but she settled on average in her mind. She let herself imagine it, filling her, pumping in and out. His hands grasping her hips, his breath in her ear. Groaning into the comforter, she quickened her pace, pumping her fingers along with her thoughts, in time with his imagined thrusts.

Her breath hitched as she felt the first sparks of her impending undoing beneath her finger tips. Legs clenching, her pace steady, she was almost there. Her thoughts became fuzzy, no longer able to form a coherent fantasy of him any more. Over the precipice, she gasped in, letting a whimpery sigh fall from her lips as she coaxed herself through her bliss, the ebbing sensation quickly dulling with every stroke of her fingers. 

Heavy breathing, her face pressed into the blanket, she felt cold disappointment.

Not only did she want that to last longer, but she wanted to be held. 

Usually, after a session with herself, she was content to just clean up and scroll on her phone. This time, she found it hard to urge herself to move. She wanted to be held by him, to press her face into his neck and whisper sugared words. 

After the heat of the moment, she was left cold, wondering if this was all she would ever have with him. She cursed her ethics, cursed her morals, and for while alone in her bed, wished she could be as selfish as she wanted with him.

Chapter Text

She was fatigued and a little groggy, but otherwise over her illness. 

After her little fantasy session, Liz had been unable to sleep and engaged in a lengthy text conversation as she hit her mental breaking point and had to confide in someone about her worries. That someone was Sam, who she sent lengthy message after lengthy message to, describing her current crisis over her crush.

Unsurprisingly, Sam had listened, poked a little fun in her direction, and offered advice.

The advice was to stop fretting and to just accept the crush and talk to Timothy. 

It was exactly what Liz thought she would say. 

Sam had told her that torturing herself was always going to be worse than getting the closure, even if a relationship ended poorly. That the pining in silence was only going to get worse and ruin her relationship with him anyway, if only just in Liz’s eyes. Of course, if this was any other scenario, Liz would suck it up, confide in her crush, and let it take its course. She wasn’t shy, nor was she keen on keeping her feelings secret in normal relationships, but this was different. 

Again, the feeling of responsibility took hold and held her thoughts on all of the things that she couldn’t be careless to ignore. She had to consider the impact of her actions, of what could happen to Timothy if she neglected to consider him. She cared so much for him that she was more convinced that she should give it more time and that she had to be especially careful with him. 

Despite Sam’s advice, she was stuck at square one. 

It was better for her to suffer than to hurt anyone else. 

And she, like many times before, eventually got over relationships that didn’t end well. Even if in this case it was a relationship that never started, she would get over it in time. 

Today, however, she opted to distract herself and hope for small victories to take her mind away from him so that she could clear her thoughts. 

Seated in front of her laptop, she clicked away at her student portal, the notifications of her graded projects had pinged her phone that morning. Holding her breath, she read the critique notes on her projects and looked over the test scores. Even with the half credit on the projects, her exam scores were enough to land her just above the grade point average she needed to keep her scholarship. 

She jumped up from the kitchen table in a celebratory dance, turning her attention towards the fridge. This called for ice cream before lunch! 

Noting the time, she felt her heart drop a bit, as it was almost noon. The tail on the clock swung almost tauntingly, as though to remind her that she would have to see him today. She had scheduled it with him, afterall. It’s not that she didn’t want to see him, but instead she was afraid that she wanted to see him too much. That those traces of what she imagined last night would surface and send her inner thoughts into a frenzy. 

Pulling the neapolitan from the freezer, she pulled the top off and noted how little strawberry there was. Should she show restraint and leave it for next time? No girl, you have a crush to get over and grades to celebrate, she told herself. Scooping out the treat into a small bowl, she paused and wondered what flavor Timothy would like. 

She opted for vanilla, scooping some for him too and set both bowls on the kitchen table. Today, she would have plenty to distract herself from her mind and a lot to discuss with Timothy. That should prevent any lull in conversation that may tempt her to gaze into those sweet, golden eyes. No, Liz, stop it, she again scolded herself. 

As the time got closer, she found the dateviators and waited. Watching the hands move forward, she wondered if he watched her back in these seconds leading up to noon. Feeling her cheeks warm up, she pushed the thought away and instead focused on how she would share their victory together. Afterall, it was his help that led her to getting better grades. 

Clicking on the dateviators, he was there, a gentle smile on his face. He felt as though he had a little less energy today, and she wondered if it had anything to do with how much time he spent out with the dateviators for the past two days. If he was tired, he hid it well but Liz noticed the slight change in his usual demeanor. 

“Feeling better today?” He asked, tugging at his glove absently. She gave him a nod and ushered him over to the table with a hand wave.

“Yes, in more ways than one. My grades came back.” She offered and he lit up, his tail standing up as he assumed the best. 

“Wonderful! Only good news, I’m certain of it.” He beamed, following her over to the table. She took a seat and pulled her laptop open to show him her student portal. 

“I’ll show you, look here.” She instructed, pointing to a spot on her screen. He leaned over the back of her chair, his chest at her shoulder as he scanned over the words. 

“Hmm, a low grade for the projects, to be expected as they were turned in late. Dreadful.” He murmured the last part in disdain. His voice was close to her ear as he leaned in, focused on the screen. “However, your studying did you some good. I regret to say that staying up to read may have been what mattered most.” He observed as he took it in.

“I’m surprised it all worked out.” She admitted, exiting out of the tab on her browser. 

“But of course it did! You worked so hard for it, Elizabeth.” His encouraging words were paired with his hands clapping over her shoulders. It was a celebratory pat, but it sent her heart into a frenzy. 

Turning her face away to hide any indication that her face was likely red, she closed her laptop. Grabbing her bowl of ice cream, she pointed out the extra bowl for him. 

“Thank you. I got us both a little treat to celebrate.” With her words, he looked over at the bowl and went over to scoop it up. 

“Ah, ice cream. I’ve heard nothing but praise for this. Vanilla, is it?” He asks, peering down into the bowl, playing with the spoon. She nods, scooting the chair back and taking her bowl from the table. 

She wanted to sit on the couch, as the extra comfort was needed after spending most of her night talking with Sam. Taking her closed laptop under her arm, she nodded towards the hallway. 

“Let’s go to the living room.” She directed, earning a puzzled look from him, as though he questioned if he should be eating ice cream on the couch. Taking the bowl, he followed her close as she found her comfy spot and took a seat. She placed her laptop off to the side. 

Taking a blanket from the arm, she draped it over her legs and settled in, watching the clock do the same. He sat comfortably, leaning back into the cushions and resting his ankle on his knee. It was amusing to see how he had grown comfortable enough to relax a bit more with her in a more casual setting. She recalled how rigid he was the first time they sat here together. He was much closer this time too, his shoulder almost brushing against her. 

Trying to hide her smile, she took a bite of her ice cream. 

“What’s that little grin for?” He asked, his own amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. She shook her head in response. 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just nice to see you relax.” She admitted, letting the soft strawberry flavor melt on her tongue. His eyebrows pressed together as he gave her a challenging look. 

“Why wouldn’t I be at ease? I am, afterall, in the presence of one of the few others who share my sensibilities.” He gives back in a satisfied way, taking a kitten lick of the vanilla treat.  “Oh, that is nice.” He noted to himself. 

“I do?” She pried, playing a little dumb as she wondered if he’d elaborate on what he meant by sensibilities. It was her assumption that he meant showing up on time every day, but she wondered if there was more.

“Yes, indeed. You don’t see it?” He asked, his ears twitched as he studied her face for a moment. Given no answer, he shook his head. “Why, like me, you are patient and try your best to be kind. You can dedicate yourself to matters of high importance, like your schooling. I could see no better qualities in any other person who could possibly own this house.” He explained, pausing to take another little bite of his ice cream.

“Oh…” She responded, not sure how to answer him. She was a little afraid that he was flirting with her, but with Timothy it could just be flattery. His flowery way of speaking was hard to pinpoint, but after last night, she felt a bit of anxiety creep in. 

“No need to be modest, although your humility is quite the attractive quality.” He stated matter of factly, raising his finger up as though highlighting another point to himself. “Timeliness, yet another imperative thing we share. Can’t forget that one.”

He watched her with a steady look, a small grin on his features. She locked eyes with him, thumbing over her spoon as she tried to deflect what she feared was going on here. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting.” A nervous laugh escaped her with the accusation. She had hoped to see him waver or deny it, but instead he blinked at her. 

“Why not? I just listed out all of the ways that we share similarities. Would it be hard to believe that I might flirt with you?” He asked plainly, amber eyes searching hers for an answer. 

He seemed so nonchalant that she wondered if he was actually just joking with her. Either way, joke or not, she scrambled for what to say. Her heart was beating erratically and she knew her face had to be betraying what she felt, but she could hopefully chalk it up to being embarrassed. 

Sam’s advice occurred to her in the moment as an easy way out, as what Liz really wanted to do. What would happen if she leaned into this? If she admitted that she liked him too? Did he really like her back the same way? Timothy wasn’t one for misleading jokes, but there was still a chance that he was merely jesting. If he reciprocated, then what if something happened? All of the what if’s came back to her and she found her resolve as she considered the possibility of hurting him. 

No, she cared too much to be reckless. She had to be careful until she decided on what to do.

So in her indecision, she batted it away. 

Giving a fake little laugh, she looked away from him.

“You’re really teasing me today, huh? All jokes aside…” She searched for something else to delve into, finding it quickly as she recalled a text she had that morning. “The next fashion tea party is at the end of the week.” She began, faltering a bit as she watched Timothy’s expression fall into a quiet despondence.

Oh, he had been flirting with her. 

“Yes, right. The tea party…” He nodded, his voice seemed to sink for a moment as he tried to follow what she was saying. 

Swallowing, Liz tried to ignore the pain she felt as she saw his expression change, as she was active in seeing his hurt. It didn’t last long, as he soon wiped the look from his face and narrowed his eyes in a look of determination. 

“Yes, the party! I remember now. You said you would make a schedule for this one. I, of course, can offer whatever help you need to perfect it.” He stated in a resolute way, even if his voice seemed to lack a bit of its usual edge. Getting her bearings straight, she nodded along, pretending along with him that everything was alright now. 

“The schedule is one thing, but there’s another concern. Gigi, and I’m sure by now everyone else, will be expecting you.” She began, “The problem is that you don’t have anything particularly Harajuku fashion-like to wear.” 

With her concern, he nodded along. 

“I can see how that might pose an issue. It is absolutely required that a party attendee wears proper attire, am I right?” He asked, his tail curling around his arm. She noted that they both seemed to leave their ice cream forgotten. She took another bite before she set what little melted cream was left off to the side. 

“That’s why I’m going to give you my laptop and let you pick out something for yourself.” She said, plucking it up and opening it. 

She scooted a little closer to him on the couch so he could see. He pulled his tail over to let her take the space it occupied, letting it ease down over his leg. Trying to ignore the heavy feeling in her chest as she was now flush against his side, she began to explain how to use the laptop and pulled up some websites that had attire more on theme. 

“Now, whatever you pick is up to you. You don’t have to pick anything that looks like what I wear. A lot of these vests have bows and lots of ruffles on them, so feel free to look for something less decorative if that’s what you want.” She offered, before going on a tangent about men’s fashion in Harajuku spaces. 

She tried to explain different substyles and directions to go in, and even suggested that it didn’t have to be harajuku-fashion related at all. But during her tangent, as the cat slowly stopped scrolling along, she paused, noticing something. 

He was looking off, somewhere far away, as he didn’t seem to be paying attention. 

Stopping short in her last sentence, she fell silent. She knew better than most that it was easy to lose focus in a conversation, but Timothy hadn’t ever wavered in soaking up every word she spoke. Many anxieties appeared at once, different guesses as to why Timothy hadn’t been as focused as he normally was. One, that he wasn’t interested in picking out his own clothes as much as she had hoped he’d be. Another, that her re-directing his flirting with her had upset him or made their conversation weird. Was he upset with her? Did he not want to go to the tea party? 

These questions began to spiral as she considered their entire conversation up until this point.

As if just now registering the silence, the clock blinked and turned back to her, with a blank look. He cleared his throat and his eyes widened as he noticed her gaze.  

“Ah! My apologies, I never let my mind wander off like that.” He gave with a start, his golden gaze studied her expression. 

Letting her lips part, her anxiety caught up to her as she needed to find and answer. Opting for something more vague, she held his gaze.

“What’s on your mind?” She asks, her voice a murmur. 

Hesitating, he let his eyes dart away as he wet his lips with a flick of the tongue. Uncertainty laced his features as he thought for a moment. 

“Why, it- it’s trivial. Nothing important enough to interrupt us, I assure you. Just musings.” His voice wobbled as he tried to assuage her. His ears swiveled back for a moment as he noted her disbelief. 

Frowning, she let her gaze be trapped by her hands in her lap. She should have figured that her actions would lead her here, if it was her own inability to lean into him to blame. Liz missed the times that she had with him where she leaned in with her heart with no fear, not walking on eggshells. She was certain he liked her back and there wasn’t much she could do to avoid hurting him. 

Yearning for the times that they laughed and teased each other and everything was much more simple, the ache of that disappointment weighed her down. This was her fault. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” She permitted, hoping it would fix the tension. It didn’t, and instead Timothy took a slow breath in. 

“It’s a trifle, dear.” His words were soft. 

Liz really wished that he wouldn’t call her that. 

His hand reached over to rest on her lap, the back of his hand nudging hers, the cotton smooth against her skin. Against the logic of her brain urging her not to, her palm turned up as an invitation. She just couldn’t find it in herself to be cold enough to pull her hand away from him. Laying his palm in hers, he sighed. 

“Lately, I’ve found myself wishing that I could be like you.” His words were thick with something she couldn’t place. Melancholy? Yearning? She couldn’t tell and she didn’t want to look at his eyes for more clues for fear that she’d get lost. So, instead, she focused on his hand. 

“Like me?” She asked, letting her eyes shut as her chest tightened. 

“I always wondered what it would be like to exist, untethered to one space. It was all just a thought until we began spending time together. I find myself wanting to spend more time like this, like you do, free to be a part of the world around you.” He chose his words carefully, each word purposeful. She felt his grip on her hand gradually tighten as he spoke. “When you were sick, Elizabeth, I wanted to be there with you all the while. Yet, being tethered to the clock meant that I had to leave you in times that I wanted to stay.” 

In shock, she found herself studying his face again, despite how dangerous it was for her. His pupils were rounded, as he let his eyes burn into her. His stony expression tested her, as she found herself yearning for something to anchor to his features. 

“I don’t hold it against you for having to leave.” She spoke, her response felt like a filler in the space. His brows furrowed and his lips turned down as he grimaced and looked away. 

“I knew you would have patience for me, I never doubted it. However, I want more control over my own time. Over my own existence. No amount of scheduling and perfectly curated agendas in the world can change what I don’t have.” He winced through his teeth, his grip tightened on her. “I have my timeliness, I have my sensibilities, but I’ve come to yearn for freedom. I am what I am, and I must be content with that. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling. 

“What is it?” She urged and his eyes widened just a bit. 

“I simply wish that things were- no, could be different for me.” He admitted wistfully, his eyes shutting as he finished. 

She knew what he meant. He wanted to have life beyond the clock, without the dateviators. Admittedly, Liz had no clue how it was even possible to have him as he is now with the dateviators, but she assumed it would be impossible to have anything more than this. It was incredible enough that they worked to bring him here, with her, his hand in hers. 

If he was untethered, as he called it, everyone would be simpler. She wouldn’t have to worry about how the implications of falling in love with her clock could affect him negatively, how it could trap him or how she was responsible for him. They could just… be. Together, without any of this heartache that she was imposing on herself for the better good. 

And yet, because of this, she had the chance to grow so close to him. She couldn’t regret it all. She just wished it could be different. 

“Me too, Timothy, me too.” She responded, feeling her heart sink as she squeezed his hand back for comfort. 

A lengthy pause thickened the air between them as neither of them dared to speak. Once it was too much, he cleared his throat. 

“I know you had planned to go over things for your tea party, but I would like to postpone that until tomorrow.” He stated, his voice chilled as he let go of her hand. “I think I need to be alone with my thoughts.” 

She wondered what she could say to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure she could right now. Instead, she nodded wordlessly and pulled up the glasses. 

“Noon, tomorrow?” She asked and the clock nodded. 

“Noon, tomorrow.” He echoed back. 

Without wasting anymore of his time, she clicked the dateviators off and felt his warmth leave the cold space empty on the couch where he had been. Staring at where he had been, the misery she felt now took hold in his absence. 

She wanted to break down. 

Liz wanted to scream, to throw something, to cry. Even if she did, none of that would help her. She couldn’t comfort him like she used to be able to, she couldn’t feel close enough to him anymore without breaking through that wall. And for certain, he liked her too. Maybe even felt the same way she did. 

Sam was right, this was misery. 

Yet, she hadn’t had enough time to decide. She was too close to it all and couldn’t separate herself long enough to have the clarity for what was her best choice. And now, the longer she waited, the more she felt she was going to drive a wedge between her and Timothy before she was able to figure it all out. 

She needed time away from him, so she could have perspective. At this point, she’d have to wait another week since he had to be involved with the tea party. She couldn’t exclude him from the planning or from figuring out what he would wear as that could hurt his feelings. She definitely couldn’t uninvite him from the tea party. 

Liz just had to get through this week so that she could get a break from Timothy and figure out what she was going to do. Maybe she’d go spend the weekend with Sam and that could help her figure this mess out.

No matter what, she didn’t want to hurt him but it was undeniable.

She wanted to kiss him so damn bad.

Chapter Text

“Is this really suitable?” He asked, uncertainty lacing his question.

“Mhm, sit still.” She half paid attention as she answered. 

Liz was busy, trying to lace the metal tip of the tie through the clasp. Trying not to pull or tug on it, she was attempting to be careful as she helped it. It wouldn’t do to choke him by accident. Holding her breath, she finally got it through and pulled it out to meet the tip of the other. The red chord was a pop of color amidst the rest of the outfit.

Timothy had picked it out himself, selecting things online. His selection couldn’t have been more him if she had picked it out for him herself. 

He wore a dark charcoal grey button up which was decorated with gold buttons and gold trim around the collar and cuffs. Somehow, unsurprising to her, he managed to find something that had little silken embroidered clocks on the collar as decor. Of course, he opted for gold cufflinks, a pair of golden suspenders with metal clasps that were also clocks, and to top the look off was the bolo tie she had just finished putting on for him. The clasp was, you guessed it, a clock and the red chords that hung down was the only pop besides gold in his dark ensemble. 

She was impressed, to say the least. She debated teasing him for all of the clock themed elements, but she kept it to herself. 

“Alright, you can adjust it how you want.” Liz permitted, taking a step back. In a hurry, he tugged the clasp up to sit just under his collar. 

Taking a step away, he looked over his appearance in the mirror and turned back and forth to inspect his outfit. His tail waved behind him, carefully threaded through the alteration she made in his pants. After a second, his expression dropped as he gave her a wary look. 

“Are you positive that this will be suitable for the tea party? I know little about the fashions you and the others wear, but I do still want to avoid any faux paus in my appearance.” He asked, grabbing his own gloved hands for support.

“Of course, you look wonderful. You’ll fit right in, I promise.” She urged, reaching into her pocket. The metal had grown warm against her, heavy in her hand as she pulled it out gently. He had entrusted her to hold it for him while he got dressed, and she was lucky this was one of the dresses that had a pocket.

Holding the golden watch out for him, he gave her a small smile as he took it from her. This one had an embossed floral design with a long shiny chain, which he clipped to his belt loop before letting it settle in the pocket of the dark dress pants. 

“Thank you for that.” He gave before glancing back in the mirror for a brief moment. “And what about my… other features. They don’t clash with the rest of the outfit, I trust?” He asked politely, but she knew the hidden meaning beneath it. 

“Your ears and tail will be just fine. It’s common in alternative fashion, but even so, I have already given them an explanation.” Liz assured, earning an unsure smile from him. 

She had, of course, told everyone in their group chat that Timothy was a furry who’s persona was a catboy. Of course, this explanation was taken with open arms as pretty much everyone in the group understood, even if a few had some jokes. Liz had cautioned them not to say anything to him about it at the party, as it would ruin the immersion of his persona. All a lie, but for Timothy, she was willing to fib to keep him comfortable.

“I see… Then I should have nothing to fear.” He assured himself, but still didn’t seem convinced. 

Over the past few days, as Liz resolved herself to the fate of having to deal with her crush until she had a break, had gotten a bit more comfortable being close with Timothy again without feeling as though she would combust. “But you’re nervous, aren’t you?” She asks, not even having to say it. His eyes widened before he looked away, his face reddening. 

“Have I become that obvious?” He asked, fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch. 

“It’s okay, Timothy. They’ll love you, I’m certain.” She promised, laughing to herself before adding, “Well dressed catboys are pretty popular with humans. Blame the internet.” With her addition, he reddened more and scoffed, his face turning into a scowl. 

“Why is that? I can’t understand why that’s appealing for humans. Of course, you are plenty accepting of me and for that I am thankful, but why the others?” He asked in near disgust. Liz gave a shrug, pulling out the most succinct answer for him. 

“Because catboys are hot? We find them attractive.” Her answer came, but she should have chosen her words more carefully. 

His eyes scanned her face, his ears perked towards her as she realized her folly.

“We? Elizabeth, do you?” He asked, his eyebrows determined as he waited. 

Ah, he had caught her. 

“Well I- I um…” She sputtered, realizing the only way forward was honesty. “Yes, I do.” She confided, her ears burning as she said so. He blinked at her before he turned away, a small grin on his lips. 

It has been like this for the past few days. She was certain he liked her, she was also certain that if he didn’t know she liked him, he had suspicions. How could he not know with how much she messed up? So what did she do? She danced around, not getting too close, but not being cold either. She couldn’t handle being anything less than affectionate to him, and he would no doubt notice if she changed the way she behaved around him. She had to figure out what she needed to do asap, as she felt it was only a matter of time before they both crumbled and acted on the attraction between them. 

Taking no more time to live in the tension, he pulled his watch out and read the time. 

“We have five more minutes until we need to head downstairs and begin setting everything up. You have our schedule, don’t you?” He diverted their attention to something a bit more important, the red began to fade from his face. 

She nodded and fished around in her pocket to pull out the neatly folded paper. She waved it about performatively before tucking it back away. 

“I’m ready, I’ll go ahead and go down.” She offered. 

“-and sure we both liked Ayesha Erotica, but she didn’t really dig the assless chaps. Like girl? Yee-naw, am I right? So I moved on real quick. Turns out there was a chick there who bets on horses. She had that grungy Y2K kinda look? Like the acid wash and the dyed raccoon striped extensions. Well, she loved the assless chaps, because duh, they’re so hot.” 

It was usually like this anytime Gigi had to catch Liz up on her escapades. She would yammer on, as though in one single breath, spouting out everything she could think of. Of course, Gigi had arrived early so that she could have this time to tell Liz everything. 

This was, of course, a big no-no for Timothy. She was thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Liz was proud of him, as all he did was warn her that she was very early and held himself back from lecturing her. He was on his best behavior, and Liz had to give him credit. And now she had to give him even more credit, as he sat politely, hands folded over each other at the table with them both. 

All while Gigi went one about her endless hookups. 

He sat next to her, his chair pulled close just as Liz’s chair was close to Gigi’s. Huddled together in a small group as that’s how it usually was. However, distractingly, Timothy’s tail brushed against her knee and calf as he absently flicked it back and forth under the table. This was one of the downsides of wearing a skirt around him.

“Who doesn’t like assless chaps?” Liz offered. 

“I knoooow!” Gigi exclaimed, raising her hands in the air. Her new nails sent light across the table, the rhinestones acting like disco balls. “Ugh, but it paid off with Miss Derby Avril Lavigne. It was great. I have pictures, if you wanna see?” Her friend beamed with excitement. 

“Pictures of the chaps, right?” Liz asked for clarity. Her friend rolled her eyes. 

“Duh, if you want pics of the other, you gotta pay up.” Gigi gave, scrolling away on her phone. Timothy looked to Liz with a quick look of surprise. She’d have to explain later. 

Finding what she was looking for, she turned the phone towards them. Sure enough, it was a photo of Gigi in front of a mirror. Pink rhinestone cowboy hat, cheetah print bandana over a white denim halter top and of course, pink glittery assless chaps. Her rear is on full display, lace panties the only thing between her privates and the wind. 

Timothy shut his eyes and recoiled. 

“Sweet heavenly hours!” He spat in astonishment. 

Liz had warned him about Gigi's openness about herself and her relationships, but she hadn't prepared him to see risque photos. Gigi cackled, placing her phone face down and shaking her head.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like a cowgirl? Coulda fooled me, Mr. Bolo Tie.” Gigi then growled performatively, biting the end of the acrylic nail on her thumb playfully. 

The look of Timothy's face was priceless, landing somewhere between dumbstruck and indignation, his mouth agape as he struggled to refute her. A laugh escaped Liz, even as she tried to hide it behind her hand. His eyes snapped over to her, as if waiting for her to defend him. Before she could, Gigi spoke up again. 

“Relax, I’m not coming onto you. A hurricane doesn’t have enough force to swing me that way.” Gigi rolled her eyes, reaching out to grab at the iced tea that Liz had poured for her. 

“Well… Good, because I would have to refuse and that would put a damper on the mood for us all.” Timothy responded in a matter of fact way, Liz could detect a twinge of frustration in his voice. He held his hand out to her, his words softened as he gave his request, “Elizabeth, may I have the schedule?” 

She nodded and fished around in her pocket, pulling out the folded paper and laying it into his gloved hands. He gave her a barely there grin and began to unfold it. 

“Shhhedule?! Are you from overseas?” Gigi asked, spouting out another question, “Can I call you Tim-Tam?” Her question made him pause in his unraveling of the agenda and he snapped his eyes over to her.

“No, you most certainly cannot!” He spat, his pupils narrowing. 

“Gigi, cut it out.” Liz warned. “Besides, Tim-tam is Australian. I think that you mean British.” Her unfounded correction caused Gigi to swat the idea away. 

“Australian, British, same ballpark.” She deflected. Timothy went back to looking at Liz’s schedule and sighed as he settled down. 

“I’m from California, if you must know. Though, I believe my grandparents originated in Oregon.” He responded, and Liz bit the inside of her cheek. 

Of course, he was manufactured in California. She hoped that the word “originated” didn’t tie her friend up, but she hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Oh, that makes sense.” Gigi gave a knowing look. Of course, Liz figured the look had to do with what she told the group about Timothy’s catboy nature. 

He didn’t reply as he studied the agenda and pulled his pocket watch out, flipping it open and gauging the time. He tsked, and placed it away, sliding the schedule back towards her to take care of. Curious, Liz looked up to the clock on the wall, reading the time for herself. 

“They’ve got three minutes until-.” - “Three minutes before-”

They both stopped, cutting each other off with their words. She and Timothy both were in pleasant surprise that they both had said the same thing at the same time. She smiled and he gave her an airy laugh. 

“My, we’re both in sync.” He noted, flashing his teeth. She held her breath as a swirl of emotion tickled her chest. 

“I guess we are.” She replied, forgetting for a moment that Gigi was there until she cleared her throat. 

Looking over, her friend’s eyes were narrowed, a sharp look traveled between them. Pursing her lips, she smiled as she had figured it out. The gyaru had always been highly perceptive to the relationships budding between people. For as long as she knew her, Gigi could sniff that out in one sitting, telling her and her friends about what was about to happen before it ever did. 

Thankfully, Gigi held her tongue this time, instead, reaching for her mom purse.

“Timothy, was that a pocket watch you had?” She asked, half listening as she rummaged around in the large bag. 

He looked over to her, hesitating before he spoke. Liz couldn’t blame him, Gigi had been pretty antagonistic with her teasing today. 

“Why, yes, it is. I collect them as frequently as I can.” He offered and Gigi hummed in response. 

“Uh-huh. Good, then you can take this off my hands.” She muttered, still searching before finding it. “Aha, there it is.” 

From her bag, she pulled out a bronze pocket watch. It had gears and cogs embossed into the lid, the chain was weathered and the metal was tarnished. Typically, Liz wouldn’t bat an eye at how dirty it was but comparing this one to the watches in Timothy’s collection showed how worse for wear it was. Timothy’s watches sparkled, this one hardly gleamed. She let it dangle from the chain as she held it out to him. 

His eyes widened, looking up at the timepiece, holding both hands out to take it. She settled it down in his palms as he cradled it, a concerned look on his face. 

“Great cogs, it’s filthy. This will take a lot of tender care and time to restore, if I can even manage to get it back to its original state.” He fussed over the state of the watch, flipping it open. “Ah, it’s not accurate at all! Did you not ever wind it?” He gasped, giving her a disbelieving look. She shrugged. 

“Nah, it’s not mine. If you don’t want  it, I'll just take it back and sell it.” Gigi responded and he instinctively held it away, as though to protect it. 

“I did not say that. I don’t believe anyone you sell it to could give it the love and care that I could.” He defended, inspecting it again. “I’m afraid to wind it. Given its state, there could be dust or grit in it. It’s sticky too! Whose timepiece is it, if not yours?” he inquired. 

“Some girl I hooked up with two weeks ago. She was into that old steampunkcore fashion aesthetic, like in that millennial “go to ren fairs and larp” kinda way?  She had an OnlyFans where she flashed her ankles and laced up corsets for dough. Turns out she was a femcel so I dropped her quick and got stuck with that clock. I just thought you might want it.” Gigi explained in nonchalance as though it was the most normal explanation. 

Timothy withered as his face dropped, his teeth bared in a cringe. 

“I have no clue what any of that meant… But I thank you for the gift.” He forced a smile as he placed the worn watch away in his free pocket.

Before they could get onto another topic, the sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Liz pulled her chair out and got to her feet, smoothing out any wrinkles that might be on her precious lolita fashion piece. In the doorway, Alexis, Lance, and Tilly all appeared, peering into the kitchen as they smiled in greeting. 

Alexis, this time was in a visual kei coord that felt uniquely emo inspired, striped green and black arm warmers and teased hair fell over her eyes. Chokers, spikes, and a ripped cookie monster shirt in the center of it all. Tilly, in her usual way, dressed in a longer lolita fashion piece, the tiered skirt had dozens of golden ribbons that sparkled amongst the pink, a gold peplum draped down the sides of her dress. Her blonde hair was curled with a bounty of bows clipped in. 

And then there was Lance, who wore a gothic coord, this time it felt more aristo than lolita fashion inspired, a waistcoat and long trailing coat ends lined with violet. Interestingly, among the black ruffly ensemble were the bright, primary colors of a figure in a box hanging from his hip. Liz knew what this was, as Lance was a huge collector of these particular things. He had tried once to get her into building a model kit with her, but she had messed up after two hours of work and refused to do any more. 

“Hi, welcome in. You all look so good!” Liz invited, waving them in. 

Tilly came up first, throwing her arms around Liz in a bear hug. 

“Oh my gosh. It’s good to see you. You look so nice!” She beamed, letting go and going over to Gigi for a hug. 

“Thank you!” Liz returned, turning to receive a fist bump from Alexis. 

Tilly turned towards Timothy, throwing her arms around him as well. He stiffened, giving Liz a wide eyed look. She tilted her head in response and Timothy gave the woman an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

“Welcome! Timothy, right? Your outfit is so cute” Tilly complimented, letting go of him and clapping her hands together. 

“Oh, thank you.” Was all he managed before Lance came over. 

“Hey, I’m Lance. Nice to meet you.” He offered a hand shake, which Timothy eyed and slowly took. Both of them looked amused, Timothy for likely experiencing his first hand shake, and Lance at the strange trepidation the clock exhibited. 

“Likewise.” Timothy gave simply, but Lance was distracted, meandering around him to look at his backside. 

“Wow, it’s realistic. Must have cost a fortune.” He commented, earning a confused and somewhat pissy look from Timothy, but Liz didn’t allow him the opportunity to interject. 

“Oh yeah, very expensive.” She deflected, opting to distract Lance the best way she knew how. “That model on your hip, is it the new build you told me about?” 

With her highlighting her friend’s long term hyperfixation, he smiled and made his way over to her to hold the carrying case up. Inside, a meticulously crafted model kit of a mech, the panels lined in dark ink and small divots of battle damage had been carefully carved into the surface. The familiar white, red, gold, and blue of the figure popped against the dark foam it rested in. 

“Yes! It’s the Real Grade Aerial Gundam that took me close to forty hours to customize and put together.” He smiled, earning a few looks from the others in the room as they cast glances over to the figure. 

Leaning in, Liz inspected it and picked out something to compliment. 

“The explosion damage on the shield, did you hand paint that? It’s so realistic!” With her encouragement, Lance swelled with pride. 

“I did! I even used air dry clay to give the metal more texture.” He offered. Liz would have no problem asking him about the details of every customization he had done on the kit, but she needed to keep herself on track. 

“It’s beautiful. You’ll have to fill me in on all the details later on. I wanna hear all about it.” She offered with a smile, “But for now…” She began to address before a familiar voice cleared their throat to draw attention. 

“It’s currently twelve. We have five minutes to let all of the guests gather before we proceed with the party’s agenda.” Timothy spoke up, drawing the eyes of the others. 

Tilly and Lance didn’t seem to mind, but Gigi shot Liz a perplexed and somewhat judgemental glance. She shot back a pleading look and her friend conceded. Their non-verbal conversation ended successfully and Liz grabbed the tea pot. 

“While we wait for Vanessa, does anyone want earl grey?” She asked, pulling a teacup and saucer towards the teapot. 

One after another, the party attendees flitted around the room to gather their pastries and allow Liz to fill their teacups. Her friends had been served and began taking seats in the dining room, leaving Timothy and Liz to linger in the kitchen. He frowned, golden eyes on the clock as his arms were folded over his chest. She offered him a look, he sighed and took her cue to voice his concerns. 

“No one else seems to care that your last guest hasn’t arrived yet. There’s only one minute left before she is considered to be late and yet the others remain relaxed.” He observed in a low voice, his eyebrows pinched downwards as he focused on the hands moving forward. 

“To be fair, Timothy, five minutes was optimistic on my part. Vanessa is always late, so it’s okay if we start without her.” Liz tried to comfort him but his frown remained. 

“But then your schedule will be in jeopardy. You have “Introductions and opening small talk” scheduled for twelve o’five exactly. If Vanessa shows up late, then- well, what do you suggest? Do we bump the next item to twelve ten? If that's the case, then we must cut five minutes somewhere or else we’ll be over time.” He ran through the scenarios and Liz gave him a sympathetic look, “Blast, this is a mess for certain. May I look over the agenda once more?” 

With his request, he held a hand out to her.

She froze, blanking for a moment. The schedule? She thought he had it? She gave it to him just a bit ago? Finding her pockets, she rummaged around to find them empty. Glancing over her shoulder, she scanned the kitchen table. Besides her phone and her own tea cup, there was nothing to be found. 

“Um, the schedule… right. Didn’t you have it?” She asked, uncertain. He blinked at her, pulling his hand back. 

“No, Elizabeth, I handed it back to you.” He stated and Liz knew that of the two of them, he would have remembered that better than she would have. 

“Oh, I don’t remember. Are you sure?” She asked, but was already pulling her chair back to look underneath it. 

The floor was spotless, no schedule or folded paper anywhere to be seen. She was beginning to feel panic rise up. What could she have done with it? 

“Yes, I’m certain. I placed it back on the table before I was gifted the pocket watch from your friend.” He nodded matter of factly, “Although, I do not recall you picking it up. It must be around here somewhere, I’ll help look for it.” He offered, already scanning the room.

She hated this. It was a terrible trait that she had. She would place things somewhere and they would almost vanish into thin air when she wasn’t intentional about where she put them. She had to place her car keys in a basket or else they would disappear. Once, she had looked for her phone for ten minutes before she realized it was in the refrigerator. Why, of all things, did it have to be the schedule. 

If she didn’t find it, would Timothy be mad at her? She recalled him saying he wouldn’t attend her party unless she had one. He wouldn’t ask to leave, would he? Even if he stayed, with no schedule to bring him comfort, would he have a miserable time? It wasn’t fair, why did she have to go and mess up like this? 

Quickly, she looked everywhere in the kitchen where she could have placed it. Under a saucer, behind a teapot, anywhere at eye or hand level. She even popped open the lid of the trash can in case she tossed it away by accident. Ignoring the immediate thought that Cam would surely make fun of her if she had thrown it out, she lightly rummaged around the surface of the trash. 

All of this movement drew the attention of her friends. Tilly had already stepped in to give them a concerned look. 

“Is everything okay? What are you guys looking for?” She asked, hugging the doorway. 

“Tilly, you haven’t seen a white piece of paper anywhere? It’s the agenda for tonight.” Liz asked and her friend paused as if to think. 

“Sorry Lizzy, I haven’t.” She offered, remaining in the doorway. 

Looking up, Timothy’s eyes met hers as they both searched. She looked away, embarrassed for having caused this fuss. Despite combing the room, it wasn’t anywhere to be found. Why did it have to be the schedule? She should have insisted that Timothy keep it the entire time. She couldn’t trust herself not to mess things like this up. The guilty and miserable feeling began to cause her mind to spiral as she tried her hardest to retrace her steps and hope to piece together a clue of where it could be. Things like this always turned up later but it would be too late then.

A soft touch on her shoulder brought her from her spiral. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was. 

“I’m sorry…” She whispered. “I just don’t know what could have happened to it.” She offered. There was a pause of hesitation before he spoke. 

“Elizabeth, it’s okay. I can’t believe I dare to say this but…” He closed his eyes for a moment as he relented, “We’ll have to do without the agenda this time. So long as we are mindful of the time, I believe the party can still go on smoothly. Besides, you always had fun before we met without an agenda.” With his reassurance, she placed her hand over his and nodded. 

It was a big step for him, she realized. It was a big show of trust to let her lead without a schedule in hand. Deciding that she was going to try to make sure the evening went as well as she could manage, she squeezed his hand. 

“Thank you… I’m glad-”

Before she could finish her sentence, a voice rang out from the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Guess who got Daydream Carnival?!” 

Vanessa, and only eleven minutes late. 

Fashionably late, in fact, as she was adorned in an over the top sweet look. Clips and bows sprinkled amongst her dark bangs, she was a swirl of pastel pink and blue, her poofy dress like cotton candy as its muted print lay delicately on the light backdrop of the cotton. She struck a pose, a smile on her face oblivious to anyone else as she delighted again in being the focal point, another expensive dream dress on display.

“You’ll never retire!” Gigi called from the dining room, her voice again muddled as Liz imagined she chewed through her words. 

Taking a moment to gauge Timothy’s reaction, he pouted a bit as he was again reminded that the attendee was over ten minutes late. She let herself smile as she rested her hand on his arm, tugging him along to the dining room. 

A schedule would never have worked anyway. Her party was just too chaotic for it and she could only guess how frustrated Timothy might have become if he had tried to guide the party in that direction. As upsetting as it was not to have it for him, it may be for the best. 

Taking her seat at the table, she patted the spot next to her for Timothy. 

Quickly packing a few cannolis into a plastic container, Liz watched as the party began to clear out. 

The time was quickly approaching the cut off for the gathering and everyone was still lingering around, chatting idly about whatever came to mind. Timothy stood near the wall, staying out of the way as Liz moved about, trying to send home as many sweets as she could push onto the others. She knew it would all go to waste if she didn’t. It had all gone wonderfully. Even if it hadn’t been on a precise schedule, Liz was certain Timothy had a nice time too. During their usual chatter about current interests and fixations, Lance urged her friend to share and Timothy was given plenty of time to talk about his pocket watch collection. It warmed her heart to see Timothy share his passion with her friends, all of which were hobbyists and collectors as well. 

One discussion that was particularly interesting came about when Gigi got on the topic of recent hookups and thus spurred on a conversation about romantic endeavors. Again, everyone shared their gossip and current struggles. Of course, being new to the group, Tilly and Alexis had begun to pry at Timothy about his relationships. He declined to have any input about it, saying it was a private matter. That is, until the question of if he’d ever been with anyone came up. 

He sputtered, said that of course he had. It was a long time ago but he had been with a woman named Callie. It didn’t end well, but he respected her. That was all that was said and it was boring enough that the group moved onto something more interesting. 

But for Liz, it stayed in her mind. She wanted to know more about this Callie. She didn’t recall meeting anyone in her house with that name, so she wondered if it was from the home Timothy was in before. She made a mental note to ask later. 

Not dwelling on it, she glanced across the room to Timothy, watching as Gigi pulled him down by his sleeve. She whispered something to him, and Liz wondered if she noticed that he didn’t have human ears. As much as she loved Gigi, it couldn't be good that she was whispering like that. She was mischievous. 

Straightening up, he locked eyes with her from across the room, a red tinging his face. He gave her a warm look, not the kind of look that she would have expected after hearing out Gigi. Hell, some of the things Gigi said made even Liz blush. But no, it wasn’t a look of shame, embarrassment, or aghast. It felt personal, and yet as though Liz was out of the loop. 

Timothy looked as though he just shared a secret with a close friend. 

What could Gigi have said to get that kind of reaction? 

Being called by Alexis, she didn’t get to ponder it any further. 

Liz wasn’t able to pause again until almost everyone had cleared out. Only Gigi remained as she helped Liz and Timothy clean up. 

“So Liz, you keep putting me off. Do you hate me or something?” her friend asked as she dried a teacup with a cloth. 

“Nah, just busy. Besides, I think I’m getting too old for club life.” Liz responded, hoping that would be the end of it. She hadn’t tried dating that way in a while, as the most she ever got out of it was a one time fling before the interest fizzled away. She was too tired to play those games again. 

Besides, she didn’t want to entertain that right now. Her heart was already occupied and she needed to figure out that before she added anything else to the mix. 

“You’re too old when you die. What, like you have anything better to do on a Saturday night? You could always just come for a few drinks, nothing big. I like to see you every now and then, ya know?” Gigi fussed, handing over the dry teacup to Timothy, who listened as he placed the porcelain in the cabinet. 

It was true that she hadn’t seen her friend as much in recent months. Between everything, their schedules didn't line up as much and it seemed like the only time they got together anymore was at these fashion parties. Feeling a little guilty, Liz sighed out loud as she finished rinsing a cup. 

“Alright, maybe I can go with you tomorrow. Just for drinks, nothing else.” She conceded and handed the cup to Gigi. 

Her friend gave her a knowing look, a smirk on her face. Her friend knew exactly what she was doing and Liz didn’t appreciate it. Gigi was pushing her into a wall for her own kicks. 

“Nothing else? Why not? Come on Liz, you used to have a lot of fun with me and the girls on Saturdays.” Gigi prodded, finishing off the glass and handing it down the line. “You sure you don’t want to get dicked down for old times sake? I’ll find you someone cute.” She added in a faux baby voice. 

The sound of glass shattering made her jump. 

“Oh, goodness me!” Timothy exclaimed, taking a step back. 

The teacup had slipped from his hands and shattered on the countertop, its pieces rocked back and forth. Oh, Daisuke no… 

Drying her hands in a haste, Liz made her way over to inspect the damage. 

“Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?” She asked, looking over his gloves. Not a speck of blood to be seen. Even so, he pulled his hands close as though he had been burned by the incident. 

“I’m quite alright but… I apologize. It slipped right through. Your teacup, I-” His ears flattened against his head as his tail drooped.

“It’s not a big deal, I’ll glue it together later.” Liz tried to convince him, but he still looked bothered. What part of this was bothering him? The teacup or what Gigi was saying. 

Shooting a glare at her friend, she scooped up the shards of the cup and placed them into a plastic container so she didn’t lose any pieces. Trying to recall if she had super glue, she resolved to check Jerry later. Gigi seemed unphased, shooting her a wink. 

“Sorry, guess I didn’t dry it good enough. My bad.” She offered her weightless apology and shrugged. Shaking her head, Liz decided she’d call Gigi later to settle this. 

“It happens. I’ll clean up the rest of this.” Leaning against the table, she gave her friend a look. “I’ll call later, okay?” 

“Okay! Talk to you then!” Gigi set the cloth down, shooting her a challenging glare despite her cheery words. “I’ll text when I get home.” 

“Okay.” Liz dismissed with a hand wave, irked by her friend. She made her way around the table and grabbed her bag up as she headed towards the front door. 

“See you later, Tim-Tam.” Gigi called in sing-song, the door shutting behind her before she could hear a rebuttal. 

With just the two of them, the air was tense as Liz mulled over her friend’s actions. There was always something that Gigi wanted, that she thought was best for other people. She’d always chose those things regardless of how others felt and would push them towards it forcefully, usually in a coy, innocent way. She knew what Gigi was trying to do as she had seen it time and time again. Her friend’s favorite thing was to meddle in other’s relationships and push people together or apart. 

Gigi was putting her through a test to see what she’d do when faced with a choice. She had read through her crush on Timothy like a children's book.

“Gigi’s a handful.” Liz gave, trying to dispel the tension. 

She didn’t immediately go back to washing the dishes. No, she’d do that after Timothy left. For now, she was concerned with how he was feeling. If Gigi said that specifically to get under Timothy’s skin, it seemed to work. He stared off into space, a flat expression on his features. 

“I don’t understand her in the slightest. She confuses me. I’m not sure if she likes me or not.” Timothy added, “I don’t understand how you can keep company that’s so… I don’t mean to be insulting, but ill-disposed.” 

“I’ve known her since high school. She means well but… she has a bad way of showing it sometimes.” Liz explained, trying to refresh the mood. She clapped her hands together and tried to change the subject. “So, that pocket watch she gave you. Do you think you can restore it?” 

He seemed to brighten at the idea, as if recalling he had it in the first place. 

“If anyone can, it’s me! Although, I doubt it’ll be easy.” He gave a small smile as he fished it out from his pocket. 

Out it came, dangling from its chain. Something bright stuck to its surface. Both of them stared at it, as they both didn’t remember it having anything like that before. 

“There’s something stuck to it.” Timothy observed, a look of disgust pinched his eyes together. 

After a second, it clicked. 

“The schedule!” Liz exclaimed.

The clock’s eyes widened as he recognised it. Pulling it off, it clung a bit to the watch at first. 

“It was so sticky that- oh cog, it had been stuck to the case the whole time.” He lowered the watch as a sullen look crossed his face, “That means… Oh Elizabeth, it was my fault. I should have checked my pockets too.” 

He looked remorseful, but she couldn’t help herself from cracking as she began to laugh. His eyes widened and his ears perked up as he smiled, a soft self directed scoff escaped his lips. 

“What did Gigi do to that watch?” She laughed before she paused, a serious thought passed her mind. “Ew, what did she do to it? You might want to wash your gloves.” With her warning he blinked and grabbed for a tissue off the countertop. 

“Noted. I’ll handle this one with care when I clean it.” With that, he wrapped it up and placed it back into his pocket. 

He cleared his throat, and gave her a look. She knew this meant their time was over for now. 

“Did you have fun today? As hectic as everything was?” Liz inquired, watching as he returned a kind grin. 

“Of course I did. I was with you, wasn’t I?” He responded as though it was nothing, lighting a warmth in her chest. “However, I was wondering…” His words were apprehensive as he studied her face. 

“Yes?” She asked, feeling that familiar tightening in her throat.

“Would you meet me tonight? At nine exactly?” He asked, his tone hopeful. 

He had never asked her to meet late like that. Her heart swelled as her imagination grasped for what it meant. 

“Nine?” She asked and he gave her a gentle nod. 

“Yes, nine. It’s when I clean my pocket watches. Since I’ll be so busy getting this one back in tip top shape… Well, I hoped that you wouldn’t mind helping me with the others.” His ask made sense, yet she knew how big of a deal that was for him. 

“I’d be honored.” She smiled, “Nine exactly?” She echoed.

“No sooner, no later.” He winked.

She took a deep breath as she had forgotten how to, finding the dateviators quickly. She held them for a moment, her finger hovering over the button before she pressed it. 

Pausing for a moment, she cursed her heart for beating so fast. She wondered how obvious it was that she liked Timothy. How many of her friends at the party were able to read it as fast as Gigi had? No doubt, she’d hear about it in the chat room if that were the case. 

Placing the glasses to the side, she let her mind wander as she envisioned cleaning the watches with him tonight. She was excited and a little scared. She still hadn’t decided what to do and with the way things seemed to be going, she’d have to make a choice soon. 

Letting her thoughts occupy her mind, she wandered off in search of super glue. She didn’t want to face the disappointment of her dishes.