Endlessly Elsewhere

~~AN: I read this in a fanfic on AO3, and I can't stop thinking about it, so I'm writing instead of sleeping again. So this is me trying to combine a concept I read in a radioapple fanfic with, I guess, a movie my best friend likes? Idk, maybe it's like that movie, I don't really remember it. Perhaps that is why I can't stop thinking about this concept, because of that one movie. Meh, who knows, and who cares, at least I want to write again!~~

Falling through reality is much more painful than the movies make it seem. The moment I close my eyes and drift into a slumber, I know the pain will be unbearable. I take one final moment to reminisce about today, the joy of a world with him. I love the days we spend together, where each moment is spent in each other's arms. He keeps me sane and stable, especially when I get to see him a second time, when I don't have to explain anything, and he understands. Today was one of those days where I woke up, and he just knew. He took one look at me and saw I wasn't his Finley.

Lying on my side, I watched as his mouth opened ever so slightly as he breathed in. I wonder what it's like to fall asleep knowing that when I wake up in the morning, the person I knew today will be gone, and the person I see every day will return. I guess in a sense it's like a one-night stand. But is it really cheating if we are technically the same person?

I roll over to look at the ceiling and watch the fan blades rotate. Maybe when I wake up tomorrow, I will be back home, in the one universe we aren't together. With a deep breath, I close my eyes with a final attempt at sleep. This time, I won't open them.

The sensation of falling is peaceful at first; the void coats my skin in a thick layer of warmth, as if I were sinking deeper into water. But the calm doesn't last for long. I look down at the cause of my eternal suffering, and the bracelet on my wrist stares up at me, mocking my inability to take it off. The fear that bites at my throat about what could happen keeps me stuck in this free-fall state. Never will I be able to remain settled and live a normal life. Instead, I am forced to slip through the cracks of reality, strung out by the hatred of a mother nature abused. My mistake will forever haunt me.

The pain arrives without warning, like a hook driven beneath my ribs, yanking me awake in time. It wraps around my sternum and tears inward, burrowing through bone and into my breath, hauling my essence across the universe. I’m dragged through a world split open with color, stars burning white-hot, nebulae bleeding blue, violet, and pink. The view is breathtaking, endless, and honestly cruelly beautiful, but the pain. Fuck, the pain is relentless, and I can't escape it.

I wake up with a gasp and clutch my chest, the pain finally beginning to fade. As my breathing slows, I start to take in my surroundings. It's the exact same room I fell asleep in, except he was lying on my left rather than my right like he was last night. Like I do every morning, I immediately rise to see if I have left a mark in this timeline. There is no way to take anything with me, so leaving a mark is the only effective way to keep track of where I have been.

Although the photo differs in each timeline, there is always a framed photo in the hallway of the home I live in. Sometimes I live in a house, sometimes in a different state or country, and once I even lived in a motel, but I always live with him, and I always have a framed photo in the hallway. I lift the frame off the wall and feel along the bumps of the white painted walls as I scan for a dark black line, no mark. A new timeline isn't rare, but it has become less common. A sense of disappointment washes over me as I realise what today might look like.

Suddenly, the light in the hallway flicks on.

"You're up early."

My head snaps in his direction; he is usually a much heavier sleeper. I can feel my face heating up as embarrassment floods over me. Here I am—a complete stranger, unbeknownst to him—standing in his home, taking a random picture of the wall to see if there’s a mark. The embarrassment grows as I notice how cold the rest of my body is, seeing as I am apparently only in my underwear.

My deep brown eyes lock on his amber ones, "Heeeeeyyyy."

"Hi? Is there a reason you took the photo of us at the beach off the wall?"

I pause and look at the photo. It's the two of us at the water's edge in our swim trunks. Mine are pink with white leaf outlines, and his are blue with a shark on the left side. Despite the anguish I am in, I can feel a smile spread across my face. We are happy.

After a moment of silence, I clear my throat and look back at him, "Sorry, uhm, what is the extent of our relationship?"

"What kind of a question is that?" The boy responded, surprised by my question. "You're freaking me the fuck out, man."

"Was I not clear? What kind of relationship do we have?"

"The fuck? Has an alien abducted you, and a glob of slime is trying to replace you?"

"Seeing as you're confused and there is no mark on the wall, I take it we haven't met before; this must be a very shocking experience for you."

"Shit! An alien really did abduct you!"

Emmett, at least I'm assuming his name is the same here, took a step back.

"No, I'm not a glob of slime trying to replace anyone, I'm simply," I count each on my hand, "your boyfriend or best friend or hired prostitute or something from another timeline."

The silence lasted a long time as he attempted to piece together what I just said. Eventually, he took a deep breath and responded, "You're joking. Like this is some prank, right?"

I half-chuckled in response. “I wish it were.”

I lifted my wrist. “See this bracelet? I bought it a few years ago, or at least I think it was. The days start to blur together after a while, since the timelines don’t overlap.” I paused, my thumb tracing the worn metal. “I got it at a farmer’s market. It was supposed to be a gift for you, actually.”

I hesitated, then went on. “I have this habit of buying things for other people that I secretly want for myself. So after a couple of months of not giving it to you, I started wearing it instead. And somehow, somewhere along the line, it felt like the universe noticed.”

I laughed softly, “Long story short, because I kept it instead of giving it to you, the forces of nature got angry. One night, I just… fell. Fell straight through the timeline.”

His eyes met mine. “Now every day I wake up as a new version of myself, in a new timeline, and I get to meet a new version of you.”

I could tell him that in my timeline, we barely know each other, and that in every other one, we’re together, primarily as boyfriends, but once as platonic married best friends, and once on a hired basis. But that felt like too much for a first impression.

Emmett burst out into laughter, a very typical response to my speech.

"Okay, wait, that was actually a really good story! You even have a cool bracelet on and everything. But shit, Finny, you made that sound so real, you had me worried for a moment!"

I sigh, "Well, that would be because it is real."

He paused, "No."

"No? What do you mean, no? You haven't ever said, 'no' after I told you."

"I mean, knock it off. This isn't funny anymore."

"What do you need for me to prove this to you?"

His amber orbs darted between mine. He didn't say anything. After a moment, he turned around and went back into the bedroom and closed the door.

I look back at the framed photo sitting on the ground. My smile mocks me, screaming, 'You will never get to feel this.' Before putting the frame back, I head to the kitchen, in the same spot it was last night, and reach for the handle to the junk drawer. Inside is a black Expo marker. Every day it is different, sometimes a sharpie, sometimes a pen, sometimes a pencil, and once a stick of charcoal. Today, it was an expo marker. I head back to the hallway, leave a dark line on the wall, lift the frame to put it back on the wall, and officially hide the mark behind it.

The door to the bedroom creaks open, and Emmett stands in front of it, holding a red shirt and black pants in his arms. His gaze was diverted from mine as a slight blush spread across his face.

"In this timeline, we are partners, but if you aren't my Finley, it feels a little weird to..."

I take the clothes and head off to the bathroom before he has to explain how weird it is seeing a stranger in their underwear and watch a stranger look through their clothes, all the while in the body of his boyfriend.

As I pull the shirt over my body, I make eye contact with my reflection. Here I am, me, but not. I raise my hands to my face to run my hands along the skin. I feel real, I am real, but this isn't the real me, even though it's me.

I take a deep breath and break eye contact, looking down to slip my legs into the pants. I zip them up and fasten the button. Now that I am actually decent, maybe things will be much less awkward.

I step out of the bathroom, and he is standing in the same spot, right outside the bedroom door.

"Is it weird that we are together? Where you come from?"

"After years of being your boyfriend in hundreds of timelines, no, not in the slightest."

Confusion ripples across his face. “So, let me get this straight,” he says, then stops, shakes his head, tries again. “There are other timelines. Which is already,” He exhales sharply. “That’s already insane.”

He paces a step, then another. “But you’re saying the other… mes are okay with this?” His voice wavers. “With being with another you? With waking up every day knowing the person they love might not really be the person they loved yesterday?”

He looks back at me, eyes searching. “Because if that’s true, then what does that make me? What does it make us?"

I pause, "I've heard this before. Multiple times, actually, and really, there is no way to respond in a way that either makes sense or relieves the discomfort you feel."

I reach out with both hands. He pauses his pacing and lets me take his.

“Some of you understand,” I say softly. “Some of you I meet more than once. Some of you ask me to leave. And some of you pretend I never said anything at all and go on as if nothing happened.”

I squeeze his hands, “But one thing is always the same: every time, you make your own decision. The timeline never predetermines it. Every version of you chooses differently, even if the differences are small. Usually, this is the moment where you start to deviate from the pattern, but you already have. You’ve already deviated.”

I take a breath. “So if it helps at all, just know that whatever you decide from here on out is entirely your choice.”

Emmett lets go of my hands and stands there, contemplating his choices.

"Just know that didn't help at all."

I frown.

He continues, "But at least you aren't pretending to be this world's Finley, I feel like that's what they do in all the movies. So I guess let's just go about our day, that way we don't look like... completely insane to all of our friends."

I smile, "Sounds good."

He extends a hand out to mine, offering a handshake, a little too professional in my opinion, but who am I to pass up an opportunity for physical touch?

I offer a nervous chuckle, "So give me the rundown on what our life looks like."

"Right,” Emmett says, staring off into the distance, flipping through a mental checklist. He runs a hand through his hair, then lets out a quiet breath. “Okay. I’m going to start with the basics.”

He looks back at me. “My name is Emmett Burnks. Yours is Finley Graven. We’ve been dating for just about four years, four years next month, actually. Our anniversary’s coming up.”

After a pause, “We go to Colorado State University. I’m majoring in Business Administration, mostly because I like things that make sense on paper. You’re an English major because you like things that don’t, and because nothing else sounded interesting.”

He shifts his weight. “I work as a host at Nick’s. You always complain about how late my shifts run, but you still come by sometimes to sit at the bar and get free drinks. You work at the library, on the second floor, at the circulation desk. You like it because it's quiet, easy, and comes with free time to do your homework.”

He hesitates, then adds, “I don’t think you work today. Your schedule usually has you off on Tuesdays. But you do have a few classes today. I guess that’s the important stuff, I think. Typically, I wake up early and make us breakfast, but the universe had other plans for us today. Do you like waffles?"

I nod. It's a lot of information to take in at once, but I have heard it time and time again, so today will be a relatively easy one. I never would have imagined being an English major, but I ended up becoming one countless times. It makes me wonder whether, should I ever find myself back home, I should become one.

Emmett turns around and heads to the kitchen. I watch in the distance as the love of almost all of my lives glides across the floor in his socks from the cabinet to the cabinet and drawer to drawer, grabbing the supplies needed to make waffles. It has been a few weeks since I had one of my favorite foods, so hearing him ask if I wanted waffles excited me greatly. More often than not, he would ask if I wanted a parfait. Although they can be good, every single day for weeks on end gets a little out of hand. Especially considering waffles are a much better breakfast alternative.

I walk over to the outer counter that has chairs to sit at, facing the kitchen. I sit down in one of them to watch. But my watching doesn't last long; shortly after sitting down, Emmett hands me a bowl with various ingredients that need to be stirred together.

"Stir this for me, will you?" He asks with a smile.

I grab the spoon and begin folding the ingredients together, mixing them as he prepares the waffle iron. Many of the ingredients mix easily, but a few clumps of powder remain. I begin to chop them up as Emmett approaches with two bowls: one has blueberries, the other has chocolate chips.

He sets both down on the counter and dips a finger into the batter I was mixing.

"You don't want to overmix it. Let me see how this tastes."

He sticks his finger inside his mouth and pulls it out with a nice pop.

Emmett smiles, "tastes good to me, what do you think?"

He plunges his finger into the bowl again, then lifts it toward me instead. I part my lips just enough, breath catching as his batter-slick finger presses past my teeth. The sweetness blooms on my tongue as I draw it off him. He pulls his hand away, color blooming in both of our cheeks as we both linger in the moment.

I inhale sharply, "tastes great to me!" I clear my throat and push the bowl in his direction.

"Yeah." He runs his hand through his hair, "Would you prefer blueberries, chocolate chips, or plain? Usually you take blueberries, and I use the chocolate chips, but maybe you like plain?"

"Blueberries, please." I smile.

The waffle iron beeps, letting us know that it is at the proper temperature. Emmett pours half of the mixture into each bowl, making sure we get the same amount. After a quick mix to ensure the add-ins were evenly distributed, the waffles were ready to be waffled!

I adore the determination on his face. Something that is a common link between all of the Emmetts, at least to my knowledge, is that when he focuses really hard on something, he sticks his tongue out. Right off to the side of his mouth, peaking out just barely from his lips. I'm not entirely sure how or why he does it, but it helps him focus. It's simply one of those great Emmett traits.

The waffle iron snapped shut, Emmett flipped it over, and the countdown began.