The Moonlight Tryst (I)

THE MUSIC THAT plays in her ears is methodical, soothing, and she would have dozed off to the number had she not been working; the most she can do for the time being. The time is nearly 12 AM, and it was a Saturday. Mid-weekend, not the busiest at a small convenience store; unsurprising, considering the fact they didn't sell any vices besides some packs of cigarettes. Rachel Wilson huffs out an exasperated breath all of a sudden, abruptly cracking the silent barriers of her own store. "This is too stupid; I should be home," she complains to no one in particular, and after no answer from the stockroom ghost, she grumbles and all but slams her face against the counter. Her hair is a frizzy mess, tendrils of orange and pink sherbet chaotically framing her head. For someone who remained single, utterly no commitments or responsibilities, the mid-twenty year old kept herself a busy bee. If she wasn't working weekends at the usual convenience store, she'd be working at the hardware store, or perhaps do a shift or two at Joyful Burger. All under Larry, of course; he was nice enough to hire and full on train her since the tender young age of fourteen. Technically a year to her physical age since she'd ceased to exist, and a full seven since she escaped the Void.

By the time she'd come back, full swing, Rachel was already mentally older than everyone else. And she was tired. But she went with it for the next ten years and into her newfound adulthood.

She'd never bothered to check up on her parents, Jackie and Harold; their already unsteady relationship only crumbled further during the time she was gone. Whatever. She never bothered to check up on her little brother, if he even counted as such anymore, or his dumb baby friends. Or the couple of friends she supposedly had. Nobody remembered her, or even knew she existed. Literally. To mask that small bout of torment threatening to leak into a full storm at the center of her chest, she instead grabs an old, raggedy towel from the end of the counter, and begins furiously scrubbing at a certain stain that never goes away, pretending to be angry. Stupid. It's all so stupid. Of course forcing herself back into existence through pure remembrance is stupid; perhaps she should have just left it be and not even—

The sound of the little chime indicating a customer has walked in interrupts her train of thoughts. Mentally tired from the near-mental tantrum she just threw at herself yet again already took a toll enough, and frankly, she'd been a few splitting hairs away from starting to close up. Memo to me; do not volunteer for more work hours. She sighs, already full of snob and attitude, fist clenching just like her nerves are bundling together from the exhaustion and frustration. "Excuse me, I'm sorry but I'm closing up for the night. If you could please—"

It's anti-climatic, how she looks up and stops herself. She doesn't stop because he's hot or because she knows him on a personal level. She's seen him, after all… he stops by the hardware store multiple times, but there's a spark of familiarity, and the sheer strength of it is what makes her dry, red-tinted lips clamp shut in a start; it's the first time she's really noticed. It's like she's fourteen again, and the undying mortification of her kid brother's friends trashing her parent's house in that poor excuse of a birthday party fills her veins and fuels her anger. A hot flush scorches her cheeks because, yes, she does know this stupid kid and she remembers clear as day how he'd been acting like such a fool and it doesn't matter how different he looks, she knows this stupid brat and she'd be da—

Except, well, she's not fourteen anymore. She's twenty-seven, nearing her twenty-eighth in a few days. She's not in her parents house, and she's not under some blackmail. Because that… technically never happened. Not according to anyone in Elmore, not even to her own brother or her parents.

So she stands there, gaze livid one second and then slack the other like she's been muted by a TV remote. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she waves him off like some fly. "Nevermind. You have about three minutes, so make it quick."

What Rachel doesn't bother to check is his expression of the same familiarity that crossed her own face, or how confused he is at her lack of a reaction towards his appearance. After all, growing up has done nothing but disaster to Rob's body.

From the corner of her vision though, perhaps she sees a long limb and hand lift up in a gesture that indicates he's about to speak, but she doesn't care either way. She doesn't intend to hear, and instead buries herself in the dumb smudge on her counter, imagining it's the face of Tobias, Jackie, Harold, Darwin and even Gumball for no sound explanation other than the fact he just always looked and sounded so annoying. The velocity of her wiping becomes fierce, and the table nearly cracks under the blind pressure; yet the smudge doesn't go away, and neither does her determination. It is only when a candy bar is unceremoniously dropped next to her does she stop her incessant wiping. Darn. She had been so close to destroy Mr. Brown's and Mr. Small's face.

The venom that she spits is near instinctual at this point. "Really, dude? A candy bar? At 12 AM in the morning?" She scans it anyway.

"It's 11:30." She can tell that he's speaking through grit teeth without even looking, her eyes never leaving from the screen.

"Whatever. Two dollars."

"Wait, what? It's from the rack."

Eugh. She closes her eyes to stop the twitching along with the urge to rub her temples and punch the guy's face in. "So? It's still two dollars. Take it or leave it!"

"I only have fifty cents."

How the heck is that her problem? "You know what? Here—" a moment of frustration and pettiness overwhelms her in that second, and so she tosses it square into the guy's chest. She regrets it a second later, but she's just over this whole thing. "Just take it and go. I'm tired; I don't need to be dealing with this right now," she all but slams the power button on the computer, effectively shutting down her register and any trace of motivation to ring up any more of this guy's items. He can eat a cactus for all she cares; though the from the looks of it, he could do without. What exactly happened to him anyway? Did she even want to know?

Did it have something to do with the Void?

Just as she steps out from her counter to flip the sign to We're Closed, his voice grates on her nerves again. "What's your deal, anyway?" And this does make her turn to fully face him, a perfect view for her to appreciate his disfiguration, the utter monstrosity that stands before her. She isn't particularly startled, but she is curious. Or would be, if she wasn't in such a trashy mood, now. "It's just a stupid candy bar."

She grits her teeth at this, "Yes… yes it is a stupid candy bar. That you got for free; so take it already and just go home, Rob." Where that name came from to travel to the vicinity of her mouth and to spill out to her tongue is beyond her; it's like a spark or a dull bell that's in there, a flash memory added onto the endless list of other useless information in her mind just waiting to be acessed.

This captures his attention even more so, and she notices this time. "You… you know my name…?" Despite everything though, call it habitual or instinct, she raises a defiant brow in question.

"Um, yeah? Why wouldn't I? You trashed my parents house—!" she cuts herself short when she realizes what she's saying, and she tries to ignore that swell of her throat. She coughs instead, and without missing a beat, she changes the words like a twister. "I've seen you in passing."

"In… passing..." he says hollowly, and upon further inspection, she realizes it's condescending disbelief and she's offended. Not only does he not believe her, but he's insulting her with that stupid narrowed eye of his. She doesn't like it and she likes his faraway gaze even less; like he's… considering something, thinking about memories that shouldn't have happened but they had.

"Yes." she repeats, hissing through teeth to get her point across; she crosses her arms and cocks her hips. "In passing; got a problem with it? You're only second rate to nothing in this stupid town; you come by Larry's Hardware Store at least thrice a week for your dumb inventions. How exactly hard is it to remember your single-syllabic name, Rob?"

She doesn't much care for how his eye thins into a dangerous slit, or how the static in his cheeks and limbs seem to emphasize the stagger in his step, or the deep, unhappy scowl that captures his face like water to a cat. The last car to that train of thought makes her almost giggle. Almost. Yet, despite his offensive take, she can tell he pushes past those barriers, struggling to focus on some singular thought that she cannot read. "You… said my name."

"I did. Your point?"

His scowl only gets deeper, and his eye only gets thinner. "How do you remember my name? Nobody here ever does." She can tell that the question do you know me is sitting right at the edge of his tongue; well, she's not going to humor it, that's for sure.

"I'm not everyone in this town; for you to insult my intelligence is pretty darn mediocre of you, to say the least. I advise you not to dig yourself deeper in this whole, kid. Cheese off already."

But he isn't deterred, and he takes a step closer; not threateningly, for she isn't stupid enough to let herself be taken advantage of in such a way, but whether it's the sharp limp in his stride or because of what seems to be a feeble prayer etched on his face, it's unnerving, and Rachel takes a small step back. "That's not what I asked; how do you remember my name?" Her silence doesn't disengage him from whatever he's on, unfortunately, so he keeps at it. "I'm not stupid, you know, and I don't think you are either. I know you..." That makes everything in her world freeze, if only for a second. "But I… can't remember.. from where." He sounds so broken with those few words, and it makes her quiver in familiar, overwhelming, sadness. The gaze in his eye is so far away and so beyond her. It makes her want to cry; because she too, knows what he's gone through. More or less. Different place, same time; same situation, different details. It all adds up. And, as if it's his fault, his black, clawed and deformed fist rubs something out of his eye in abrupt frustration as he groans lightly. "For darn's sake!"

So Rachel decides to be nice. Just this once.

"You came to my 14th birthday party," He looks at her like a saint who's flown down to answer his prayers, like she's some messiah enrapturing the environment around her with silvery wings and a jeweled crown. "I didn't invite you, but you came. You were one of my little brother's friends, and you wrecked my parent's house." Not that… it technically ever happened. A thought makes her scoff, "You didn't bring a date." He blinks at that, and after a moment or two, she starts to snap back into her exhaustion. She sighs like she ran a marathon, and checks her nails like she were discussing some putrid gossip. "I was… left behind, just like you." The implication is there; no need to say the Void out loud.

"How?"

Now it's her turn to blink. "Pardon?"

"How did you… come back unscathed…? How are you here, whole?"

Oh.

This… this isn't a conversation she wants to have; it's far less appropriate here in such a public vicinity, even if nobody is here. It takes Rachel a moment to realize that her mouth is trembling, like a pitiful puppy's. She feels humiliated right now; anything potentially to do with the Void is enough to leave her pretty much an emotional wreck. So she turns away, biting her lips, opting to change the subject before it seriously starts to get ugly.

"That's absolutely none of your business."

Or rather, just shut it down altogether. That works too.

He looks offended, like he was just slapped, and a small surge of victory runs over her. Good. The kid deserves to be put down a few just for her sake.

"I… what?"

She rolls her eyes, already bored with him. "I said it's none of your business. Now leave already. I have to close and I would like to go home now." His name almost slips from her lips again, but she catches herself this time before it spills out. "Seriously, I don't even know you." Where this encounter, this interaction spurned from she doesn't know and she doesn't want to know. The less said words to each other, the better. That's how it should be; the laws of this universe would not be so kind as to leave this as is if they kept… interacting. She's adjusted right now, she has routine, and it's going by just fine.

His face twitches, from his natural glitch mannerisms or because he's frustrated or even from both Rachel can't tell. Perhaps he steps closer, or tries to, but she's on the offensive now, and he stays put thanks to her scowl despite his own growing one.

"Obviously you do, I wouldn't be pressing the situation if you didn't," she scoffs, shaking her head at his logic, but Rob doesn't let her slip a word in. It's his turn to speak, and he wants to make that clear. "I've seen you around too, you know. I don't miss your face when I go pick up supplies for my projects; but I could never quite place your role in all this. Oh, but you're mistaken if I don't notice, Rachel." Revealing that he knows her name lands a strange blow to her chest; it's heavy and unwanted and most certainly not what she expected.

Even with her heart roaring in her chest, irises shaking, struggling to find a focal point except for him, she still manages to speak. Though, it's not as strong as she would like. "So what? Do you know me or not? One second you're saying you don't remember me and the other you're saying that apparently you notice me when you're buying stuff like a creep. Can't make up your mind, can you?" This time, it is her turn to be suffocated by his silence. He doesn't even get mildly miffed by her insinuation that he's a creep. His eye narrows, and for all his tom-foolery ways and stupid villainous quips, even at his age as a young adult, it's like he knows something more than her. Fat jerk. What does he know, anyway?

And like he hears her mental query, he shakes his head just once, like he's got the puzzle all figured out. His eye flickers to her, bottom up— if she weren't so caught up in whatever this is, she'd say he was almost checking her out— and then back to her face. "Maybe I was mistaken..."

There's something about those words that just rub her the wrong way, and before she even knows what her body is moving towards or the thoughts that run through her head, her hand is already encased around his thin wrist, nevermind the slight buzz-feeling of the static. "And just what exactly do you know, eh?!" she hisses through grit teeth and a clenched jaw. She's livid, and the funny part is that she isn't exactly sure why. "You don't get to just, study me like some darn insect and then decide I'm… that I'm—" He's looking at her like he wants her to finish. Which is so ludicrous. She huffs and despite herself, grips tighter. Speaking is already a struggle enough as it is. But by the time she half decides she wants to say something, Rob looks... disappointed. "You don't know anything. I don't care who you are; but you don't know!"

Something in his eye sparks, and she can feel him become tense. And yet, he still doesn't remove her from his person; surprising, but not enough to deter her inner turmoil. "I don't know what?" And, in a sudden movement, now the roles are reversed; his clawed hand now pulls her own wrist forward, bringing their faces closer for intimidation purposes. "At least have the decency to say it. I don't know about what? The Void?" He spits that out like asking her if she meant it in a jest, and what confounds her is the fact that she feels sheepish at the call out. Rachel tries to turn the other cheek, attempt to move away, but his grip becomes tighter; he won't let her move away from her mistake. "Really?"

She has enough of his confrontation to pull away harshly, but that's probably because he lets her. She doesn't like the thought. "Yes!" she says. "Oh, wow I'm so sorry about what happened to you! A mistake! Only to haul yourself back to the living world and become the villain! Excuse me if I'm a little less than impressed here!" She pushes past him in her fury, the words already spilling without her consent. "Try being stuck in the deeper parts of the Void for nearly a decade, only to take yourself out of there because the loneliness was getting maddening! Try coming back to realize you're older than everyone, and nobody remembers you to begin with! Try realizing you're weren't just a mistake, but you were never supposed to exist!" Perhaps the outburst is enough to shut him up for a second, and she think she put him in his place. Except he reaches out for her, and it's just so wrong. This isn't how this is supposed to play out! Rachel swats his hand away, and she's trying so hard to regain control of this situation, of herself. When did this get so… complex? This started out as him wanting to buy a stupid candy bar! "Don't touch me! I don't know you!" and neither did he. "Stop forcing this already! Get away from me, and go back to your happy-go-lucky role! You have a major role; isn't that enough?" She's just trying to get by in this miserable life. "You won't even remember this; you know that!"

She would make sure he wouldn't remember; it's an assuring thought.

That is until he pulls out the book

Her book.

The Magic Book.

"I wouldn't be quite sure of that, Rachel Wilson..."

( &. )

A/N: This is a type of collab... project... thing with a beloved friend of mine. I roped her into this hell.This was supposed to be mindless smut; but err, I got carried away. It will come later thought! Just had to establish their connection and all that. Please be mindful this will become M later!