Lennon had concluded a long time ago that time machines were compatible with temptation.
He was four when he left his doll on a train during a family vacation. His parents decided to comfort him by allowing him ice cream and more telly-time. Though the plan backfired when the boy tried to reach into the television and snatch the Flintstones' fancy machine, throwing a childish fit right after realizing it was unachievable.
"Now now," his mother cooed, repeatedly tracing an index finger between his eyebrows in a downward motion. Apparently she had read in a parenting book somewhere that the gesture soothed babies. Lennon Curio was a child then and he was an adult now, but that didn't stop his mother from continuing the habit, regardless of whether or not it worked. "What's the matter?"
"Want it back."
Lennon's mother spotted the machine on the screen and turned back to her son, smiling in understanding. "You want to go back in time? For your doll?"
He nodded his head feverishly. Back then, his hair was more brownish than reddish.
"So what happens when you go back? How about all the things that happened after? How about ice cream and television?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You'd lose those moments."
Then his father would chortle from the next room that he was too young to understand. He always did whenever she served her son a plate of sophistication. But years of these questions translated into Lennon's inner voice.
And he understood now.
It sat in the pit of his stomach— that time machine.
There was a stony silence that forged a wall between Kieran and him, standing awkwardly amidst strangers on a moving bus. Neither of them made the move to speak, avoiding each other's gaze.
Lennon wetted his lips and stared down at their feet, gripping tight onto the pole. Shredded sunlight flickered across their shoes as the vehicle sped past buildings and parks, transporting and dropping off passengers like any other day. Yet it felt like the world had stopped for Lennon. Like he had accidentally nudged a few buttons and the time machine had whirled to life, seized him and this— this deceased boy that he had one too many feelings for and locked them in a room.
This temptation. It rose from his throat. And though it was impossible, his thoughts engulfed every what if. What if he could turn back to when he didn't fear commitment? What if he could turn back to before Kieran gave up on himself? Then maybe the ravenhead wouldn't be trembling next to him, jaw tense and eyes glued to the floor. Then maybe Lennon could've held him like a normal human being would, whisper sweet things in his ear to calm him.
With a surge of impulse, the chestnut boy decided to look up, heart skipping over its rhythm when Kieran did the same, their eyes meeting coincidentally.
The ravenhead's gaze wavered, thick brows pinching together before looking away again right as the bus jerked, unable to maintain eye contact.
Lennon sucked his cheeks in, dismay swirling in his tummy. Kieran radiated uncertainty, unwilling to even stand any closer than two feet away from the boy. It made him wonder if Kieran regretted— the half-confessions, the kisses, everything.
Suddenly, the ravenhead eliminated the space between them, standing parallel to Lennon as he buried his face in the boy's neck.
Lennon inhaled sharply, stiff as a board.
Guess he was wrong.
"Kier," he muttered under his breath, lips barely moving. It was the second time within that hour that the ravenhead had shocked him into this state. Lennon reached into his pocket, searching for his phone so he could openly speak to him.
But Kieran stopped him, lowering his hand despite the lack of actual contact. "You don't have to," he whispered, sending a chill down the boy's spine, "Can we just stay like this for a little? Is that okay?" Somehow he knew whatever they had would start falling apart the second he walked into his sister's house.
Lennon nodded dumbly, turning and nuzzling against the ravenhead's head, subtle enough not to draw attention. He kissed his hair— though it was more of a small pop of the lips than an actual smooch.
Lennon had never experienced intimacy like this.
The lack of physical touch burned his skin third degree, but made him crave more warmth anyway. It caused his soul to burst into flames. And the dainty displays of public affection made butterflies erupt in his stomach, a secret hidden behind a veil from the rest of the world.
His secret. Their secret.
The chestnut boy looked up to check the next stop, heart squeezing when he realized it was theirs. He wanted to keep Kieran close like this for a few more lifetimes, but he forced the words out of his mouth anyway. "Ghostie," he said under his breath, "We're getting off soon."
Kieran huffed in annoyance, refusing to separate. It made Lennon crack a cheesy smile.
The chestnut boy fished out his phone and held it against his ear. Kieran didn't stop him this time. "Or we can just forget this ever happened, turn around, head home, watch a random movie and maybe..." His voice shrunk with bashfulness. "Cuddle? Or just... exist together?"
The ravenhead finally lifted his head off the boy's shoulder, a teasing grin on his lips. "Is that what you want, Len?"
A rosy color filled his cheeks. "Mhm." Lennon lifted a hand to stroke his face but stopped himself midway when he caught someone staring. "Is that what you want?"
The edges of Kieran's lips drooped and Lennon's smile faded with it. He recognized the war in his eyes, the same battle that overran his mind since Lennon first met him.
"Sorry," the chestnut boy said quickly, shaking his head and averting his stare, "I'm sorry— I shouldn't have—"
"Lennon." Kieran brushed his knuckles under the boy's chin, nudging his head up. "You know I feel something towards you."
Lennon's face scrunched. Something? he wanted to ask. But he couldn't. I feel something towards you too, he wanted to say. But he couldn't.
That was the moment he realized they will never fully admit it out loud. Never go that far. Never dig that deep of a hole. Close the chapter. Knit the safety net.
Kieran inhaled shakily. "But I can't not do this. I don't have the option of going home and forgetting."
"I understand," Lennon replied.
He understood. He did. And perhaps that was the worst part of his agony.
__________
Kieran scaled the pavement with big, anxious strides, limbs rigid with what's about to come.
Even the neighborhood felt familiar. Like the little rain boots of little Kieran had tread these roads before.
"If you have questions, you can aim them towards me. I'll try asking without sounding like a total creep," Lennon instructed the ghost right before he rang the doorbell.
The second Sara opened the door, Kieran had lost his sense of time and space.
The tension in his bones solidified like there was no oil in his gears, every step forward felt like he was moving through water. Drowning, slow and groggy.
Baby blue coated the walls, decorated with paintings of koi fish, every nook and cranny storing bits of Kieran's childhood. They spilled from the cracks and flooded the ravenhead's mind. The layout of the shabby wooden furniture formed a blueprint in his conscience. His eyes trailed up the stairs, recognizing the path to his old bedroom. A bedroom that no longer existed. Overwhelmed, Kieran began flicking his arms in every direction, a weak attempt to shake off the odd feeling. So he did what he had grown to always do— turn to Lennon.
The boy hooked his fingers around the heel tabs of his sneakers, placing them on the shoe rack. He looked back briefly, making purposeful eye contact with the ravenhead.
Kieran smiled at him, eyes lighting up just enough to convince Lennon he was okay.
"Hungry?" Sara asked, retrieving a cookie tin.
Lennon snapped out of his trance, patting his tummy meekly. "A little."
She was dressed in sweatpants, hair pulled back in a low, tight ponytail. Offering the chestnut boy a cookie, Sara moved around the dining table to make space for them. "So, what do you need help with, Lennon?"
The boy cleared his throat, pulling out his laptop as his thoughts raced for an answer.
"Len."
Lennon glanced at the ravenhead, who situated himself by the piano, looking like a lost puppy.
"Ask her how she's been for me. Please?"
"Let me pull it up," the chestnut boy answered Sara's earlier question casually, "How've you been, by the way?"
She exhaled heavily, eyes closing. "Pretty stressed. Getting used to some changes," she said, "But as I mentioned before, it's my mom's birthday, so I'll power through today just fine."
Kieran's eyes widened, scanning his surroundings immediately for his parents.
Sara smiled, lips thinning. "Want any more snacks? We have sweets too. My entire family is lactose intolerant but no one actually cares."
"I think I'm good. Thank you though. So about the homework..."
As Lennon nattered on about his made-up questions, Kieran busied himself with the photos displayed on top of the piano, heart wrenching when he caught sight of a man and a woman, little Sara sitting between them on a piano bench.
His transparent fingers brushed against the empty space next to them, wondering if that was his spot, wondering if the universe washed the ink off the picture along with his memories. He had never felt so foreign and at home all at once.
Eyes shining with tears, Kieran whispered from across the room. "Ask about my parents, please Len."
The chestnut boy didn't react, continuing to point exaggeratedly at his laptop screen, but Kieran trusted that he heard him. Lennon had made it very clear that he was his priority and his heart swelled with the knowledge.
Cautiously, he sat down on the floor next to Lennon's chair, leaning against his thigh for emotional support. The chestnut boy lowered his hand and caressed his ebony hair, running his fingers through nothing, all the while looking the other direction and distracting Sara.
Kieran felt loved like this. He felt important, needed, cared for.
"Oh my god I get it!" Lennon exclaimed, fully committed to the act.
The ravenhead cracked a smile, gazing up at him. He had missed this animated version of Lennon.
"You get it?" Sara echoed, "That was quick."
"Mhm." He nodded viciously, lolling his head back and accidentally spotting the piano taking up the other side of the room. "You play?"
Sara followed the boy's eyes. "Used to. As a kid."
Lennon gave Kieran one last pat of affection before standing up and approaching the big instrument. He must've noticed the ravenhead studying the pictures earlier. "Is that you?" he questioned, pointing at the girl within the frame.
"It is," Sara confirmed. The skin near her eyes crinkled with delight.
"And your parents?"
"Yup."
Lennon met the ravenhead's eyes deliberately. "How are they? Doing well?" He turned back towards Sara.
The light in her eyes dimmed immediately, prompting Lennon to panic. "No it's okay," she assured, reading his mind. She scratched her arm awkwardly. "My parents are the change I'm still trying to get used to. See—"
Something clicked in Kieran's brain.
"—They divorced a little over a year ago."
The chestnut boy's muscles tensed, gulping at the chill that erupted down his spine. He whipped his head around to face Kieran, whose skin had gone a few shades paler, realization adorning his expression.
He reached towards the wall to steady himself.
Sara was still talking, a growing tenderness to her voice that Lennon couldn't pay attention to when his Kieran was gasping and clawing at his own chest, panic-stricken.
Kieran, Lennon mouthed urgently, instinctively reaching out for the ghost.
But the air swallowed him and he was gone.