ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

Coraline Sinclair shouldn't be as intimidating as she was, but Iris had never felt fully at ease around the woman, even when Lyra was alive and well—even when they were on proper speaking terms with one another. Now that Lyra was no longer around to serve as a mediator, the air felt heavier, frigid in a way.

It wasn't like Lyra's parents hadn't ever liked Iris, not exactly.

Lyra had been a true social butterfly back in the day, even when they were still living on campus, and she had plenty of other friends besides Iris. However, Iris knew she'd been the only one to get close enough to deserve to meet the Sinclairs, which, in her head, had to count for something and helped her convince herself she'd mattered, even back then. With Lyra going on and on about how selective her parents were when it came to who they allowed inside their home, Iris had always worn that permission like a literal badge of honor.

They hadn't ever made her feel unwelcome in their house, either. Every time she and Lyra stopped by, there was always warm, comforting food waiting for them, along with a cup of matcha tea for Iris and a large mug of black coffee for Lyra, and Iris was routinely invited to stay over for dinner even when she couldn't, in good conscience, overstay her welcome. They'd make small talk, ask her about her family and her studies, compliment her creative writing pieces and the thought pieces she wrote for the Daily Emerald.

The issue was that their interest had never seemed to go past the surface level. Where Lyra conducted herself through life without a care in the world, a self-proclaimed flight risk and free spirit, Iris spent far too much time inside her own head and overanalyzing every interaction she had with other people.

She'd always had way too much free time on her hands, even with all the extracurricular activities she'd picked up to keep herself occupied instead of being alone with her thoughts (now she had more time than she'd ever had before, she bitterly realized), and people who truly lived in the moment probably wouldn't devote that much thought into what every person on the planet thought of them.

Still, Iris would take the distant, cautious affection over being mistrusted and passively-aggressively invited into their house when in reality they just wanted her gone and far away from their daughter any day.

At least they had trusted her to be around Lyra, even during her worst days, but those days were gone now, and Iris was certain they were well aware she and Lyra hadn't been on speaking terms for a while by the time the latter died. Whether they held a grudge against her for not having been present enough, for not trying hard enough was still to be determined, but there was a chance she could do something to change the course of history. She could make it better now, could she not?

"Here's your tea," Coraline announced, reentering the living room with a tray. There was her characteristic cup of matcha tea, all right, along with a plate of biscotti for a sweet, crunchy treat, which felt like a lot more than Iris deserved. "I suppose this is how you still take it. No sugar, no milk."

"Oat milk sometimes, when I feel fancy," Iris corrected, carefully cupping the polka dot mug between her hands. The steam spiraling out of it swirled around her, fogging up the room, and, for a second, she was transported back in time to a few years ago, when things were simple and okay, and she almost expected Lyra to casually storm into the room. "Most of the time I take it as is. Actually, most of the time I drink cheap black tea. Publishing isn't the most glamorous career path out there."

Coraline's lips stretched into a weak smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I should've known that was where you'd end up. Do you still write?"

"Sometimes." Iris sipped her tea, then set the mug aside, careful not to spill anything, not even while using a coaster. Light footsteps echoed in the distance, followed by the clicking sound of nails skittering across wooden floors, and a small Pomeranian rushed to check on what Iris and Coraline were doing. "Oh?"

"Right. You two have never met. Come here, girl." Coraline gently patted her thigh, and the dog carefully approached them before being scooped up. Her small paws waggled in the air, as though she was waving at Iris. "This is Lemon. Limoncello, technically, but it's too long of a name for her to associate with herself."

Coraline shot Lemon a forlorn glance, one that only lasted for a brief moment, but Iris still caught it, and she suspected she knew why.

Lyra had never been much of a fan of dogs in general, and especially not a fan of small dogs. They'd always creeped her out, not to mention how annoyed she'd get at the shrill barking; though the lower register of a bigger dog's barking wasn't ideal, she'd found it easier to tolerate. At some point, she'd gotten a Pomeranian, a teensy tiny thing that was mostly fur, and had clearly loved her enough to give her an affectionately long name. If you didn't care, you wouldn't bother, yet Iris wondered if Lyra had taken Lemon in the same way she'd taken her under her wing after they first met, both of them sad little puppies with no set identity.

It just went to show how much of Lyra's life Iris had missed out on. Perhaps it had been more than she thought.

Life and time came at you fast, sometimes even quicker than you could process it. It was like that saying, the one that reminded you someone always had to be the first to leave and how inevitable it was; even if there had been no falling out between Iris and Lyra, they would have to separate at some point. Even long after the lines between friendship and something more blurred, even when things got bad and messy and they stopped talking, they had never been fully disconnected from each other's lives.

It felt so unnatural to not have that kind of involvement in Lyra's life anymore, as she'd always found her way back to Iris' radar, including during that period they weren't speaking. Iris assumed they'd gravitate back towards each other, being able to pick things back up right where they'd left them, but life had been crueler to them. Even if she could fix things by going back in time, even if she could, somehow, prevent Lyra from spiraling and dying, there was no guarantee they'd even be close or friends at all in that alternate timeline.

Perhaps everything really did happen for a reason. Still, Iris would much rather have Lyra alive and angry at her than not having her at all, and it was so selfish to admit that to herself. What about everyone else Lyra had left behind? What would they think or say if they knew Iris had all that power in her hands and was considering using it for self-serving reasons? She would never get those memories back, especially when she couldn't stop remembering them, and they served no other purpose than to taunt her.

Here, have all these mementos of a dead girl who will never come back to you, smile back at you, laugh at one of your jokes. Here's the curse of remembering and longing. Here's the heartache of loving someone who never loved you back and now never will. Good luck ever moving on from a ghost that haunts you everywhere you go—the one ghost you can never exorcise.

"I'm sorry for inviting you here out of the blue, Iris," Coraline tentatively began. "I understand being back in Emelle Bay must not be easy for you."

"I wanted to return," Iris confessed. "There's been this . . . force pulling me back in. I couldn't shake it off any longer, so I guess I stopped trying to fight it."

Luckily, she decided against confessing that unstoppable force could very well be Lyra's ghostly influence, screaming at her from the grave; she'd always been an immovable object, anyway, which was why it had been so easy for Lyra to both mold her into the person she'd become and then drop her. 

At least Lyra had believed in her potential, even when Iris was unable to find a single glimmer of it. In theory, that ought to count for something—Lyra's unwavering belief in her and in people in general had always been one of the most alluring aspects of her personality—but it hadn't ever amounted to anything tangible.

Iris' sense of self-worth was in the gutter. Her social life was virtually non-existent, bar her doomscrolling activities, and she lived vicariously through the people on her phone, whether she knew them personally or not. Her professional life was the only thing of value she had in her life, and not even that felt substantial enough to keep her head above the water or consider she was talented enough to keep pursuing a career on the other side of the publishing industry. How was that for untapped, unused potential? Where was Lyra to tell her she was still worth it?

"I understand," Coraline continued. "Mike and I have been trying to find the courage to move ever since . . ." She sharply inhaled. There were sentences you didn't need to complete. "Whenever we think we've found a place, the deal falls through. Something happens. It's like we're fated to stay in this town. Doomed."

Iris nodded. So she wasn't the only one being held up against a wall. "It's one of those places that never leaves you. You can physically move away, but it's always there, beckoning you to stay. Beckoning you to come back."

Coraline's eyes welled up with glistening tears. "I'm sorry we didn't reach out, Iris. We've been so caught up with . . . everything that's been going on, with everything that happened, and we never . . . you've always been so self-sufficient. It felt like you wouldn't need us to check up on you."

So she wasn't mad at Iris, which was a relief, but it did nothing to ease the guilt settling in. Yes, maybe she was self-sufficient in a way that made people not worry too much about her (she'd always been good at surviving, not so much at living), but secluding herself in New York and burying herself in work had made it so she hadn't had an opportunity to reach out to anyone else in Lyra's life, either.

She could've made an effort to extend an olive branch, yet she hadn't. She could've saved Lyra, yet she hadn't. Only one of those felt possible to salvage now.

"There's some stuff we'd like you to keep," Coraline confessed. "They're in her room."

Iris blinked away a stubborn tear. Part of her wanted to see what those belongings were, desperate to feel closer to Lyra and, hopefully, make a decision on whether she was willing to try and rewind time just enough to be a goddamn hero or not, but then there was the heavy weight of her horrible grief. Lyra would never forgive her for snooping through her stuff, and she didn't feel like her heart could take it. "I can take a look."

"Okay. Just as a warning . . . it's mostly exactly how she left it. I tidied things up, but you know how she was regarding her privacy and organization system."

"The best way of organizing things is not organizing them at all," Iris completed. They shared a knowing glance. "Lyra liked her chaos."

"I think that's why you got on so well. You balanced each other out."

Maybe. Maybe not. They certainly hadn't been getting on with each other that well by the time they stopped talking and, in the midst of all her chaos, Lyra had slipped through the cracks.

Slipped right through Iris' fingers, like water. Like air.

Sometimes, girls just drowned, and there was nothing you could do.

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

time traveling shenanigans officially begin on the next chapter hehehehehe

wc: 2033 (docs) // 2019 (wattpad)

total wc: 7168 (docs) // 7070 (wattpad)