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.