Work Text:
You distribute the batter evenly into all of the bowls you have set up, filling them all to nearly the exact same height and sliding them over to Natsuki along with the food coloring. Of course she didn't ask you to yet, but "yet" is the operative word. You've done this a thousand times. The same cupcakes, with the same tools, with the same recipe, in this same kitchen, and all while she's watching over your shoulder. Every movement is studied, perfect. Not because of any natural talent, but simply by how many times you've done it all before. Practice. Muscle memory. She hasn't managed to tell you anything because you've already taken care of it before she's gotten a chance to speak. And here you are, doing it all over again.
The rainbow-colored tray slides into the oven, making the same grinding noise it always makes, while you beat the icing together. You've managed to get your time down to just under a minute. Not a drop spilled, not a single ingredient wasted. You don't even have to measure them out anymore. You've gotten a good feel for it just by how heavy each measuring cup weighs down your fingers. And, of course, you have Natsuki's secret ingredient and preparation methods memorized. She's only had to to show them to you dozens upon dozens of times for it to properly sink in.
"How did you-"
You don't give her a chance to finish the thought, dunking your finger in the icing and giving it a taste. It's good. As good as it usually is, anyway. Everything continues as normal from there. Natsuki grabs your wrist, you grab hers. You laugh. You stumble into the wall. You lick the icing off of her finger and the two of you stare at one another. Her breaths on your face are hot. Labored. Every time you've done this, you've wondered if you could push it further. But you don't. You never do. Something about it just doesn't seem right.
You break away, pulling the cupcakes out of the oven just in time to stop them from burning. Natsuki just stands there and watches while you load up the piping back with the icing you made, forming little peaks and swirls and decorations. It's about that you decided to get creative with these. If you're going to have to go through this same set of steps every single time, you might as well try to have a little fun with it. You can feel those dull pink eyes of hers boring into the back of your skull. Studying you. Your movements. You hold out the piping bag to her, offering to let her decorate, but she doesn't take it. You finish up the rest of the frosting without much fanfare nor conversation from Natsuki, and pack them up as elegantly as you can manage.
"Okay, I'm all packed up," she calls out to you, holding the tray of cupcakes in her arms. She's not carrying the big bag of supplies with her, like she normally does. Today is different. You decided today would be different. You bought everything that she would have needed. It's not like money is going to be an issue. "Good work today!"
"Natsuki?"
"Yeah?"
After all of these loops, this is the one where you finally try something different. You feel clammy. Nerves. Nerves, from something you're not prepared for. It feels like it's been years since you've last felt like this. Maybe it has been.
You sigh, trying to steady yourself. "Can you stay for a little bit? I need to tell you something."
She looks to you, to the cupcakes, to the floor. She's just standing there, stiff. Silent.
"I can't," she finally breathes, uncharacteristically quiet. "I told my dad how early I'd be home, and I'm already running a little late, so-"
"He's not going to do anything to you tonight."
She freezes, full stop. Something in her eyes seems to switch, a fire roaring through her vision. Anger, fear, a dozen other emotions all rushing up at once. She slams the tray down onto the counter, a lone cupcake managing to bounce off of it that rolls towards the oven.
"What the hell is going on?"
You pinch the bridge of your nose, mind racing on how exactly you're going to salvage this. "Just...just sit down, okay? I can explain everything."
For what feels like a long time, neither of you say anything. Natsuki starts to take a tentative step toward you, hesitating for just a second before she follows through. You flop down on the couch, starting to feel like you can't keep yourself up, sinking as deep as you can into the plush cushions. Her movements are slower, more cautious, lowering herself as far away as she can from you, keeping a more-than-healthy distance in spite of you both sharing the sofa.
"This better be good," she spits, her voice obviously shaking.
"You aren't going to believe me."
She doesn't reply, letting the silence linger in the air as her response.
"I've been living this same week for such a long time that I don't even know how long it's been. Years, probably. This exact same week, over and over again, all the way up until the day of the festival. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, something happens, and everything either gets worse, or I go back to the start of last week. I keep going back to the start. No matter what happens, or what I do, or who I talk to, it all starts over again. It's a loop. I've made those cupcakes so many times that I have the recipe memorized. I've written--" You stop yourself, almost laughing at the absurdity of what you're saying. You can hardly even believe it's real. "I've written so many poems that I'm starting to lose track of which ones I've already shown to the Literature Club. I've tried everything, every last thing to fix it and go back to normal, but nothing works."
Natsuki is quiet. She sits stiffly, hands splayed flat across her thighs and gaze focused squarely at your floor. There's a part of you that already wants to bail on this plan. It would be so easy to tell her that you're just joking, that you don't actually mean to imply that you're some sort of time-traveler. But it wouldn't be the truth. You've lived this week enough times to figure that the truth is worth a try.
"Look, I'm sorry I brought this up," you sigh. There's so much more you could rant to her about, to tell her all about what happens, how her friends act, everything you've tried. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me, but I couldn't try and keep this bottled up for another day."
"I believe you."
Your heart skips.
"What?"
"When you told me not to bring all of my stuff over, I figured that was just a lucky guess, you know?" Natsuki huffs. "I figured that you knew I would want to bring my own supplies, and maybe you were good at baking, too. And when I saw you making my cupcakes the way you did, that exact same way, I got scared. I thought you were some kind of stalker. Maybe you watched me bake before, or something, and you had this gross idea that you'd impress me."
You almost laugh again at the absurdity of it all. You probably couldn't have handled this worse if you tried.
"But then," she continues, lowering her voice. "You made my icing. The same way that I make it, and you used the same secret ingredient. You could have watched me make the cupcakes, but I haven't made that icing in...a long time. My dad won't let me keep the ingredients in my house anymore. He gets mad about it so easily, which is why I wanted to ask you to get some. But you hung up before I could tell you what to buy."
She turns to face you, eyes blazing. Even with her small stature, there's something about that look that intimidates you.
"And you had it ready. You knew the measurements. Nobody could have ever guessed that. You knew."
This time, you can't help it. The relief and the ridiculousness take a hold on your mind, and you nearly double over from laughing. Natsuki sidles up next to you, getting close enough to slap you on the back.
"What?! What's so funny?!"
Your giggles slow down just enough for you to respond. "That's all it took to convince you? The icing? I didn't have to memorize all of this?"
Natsuki pouts. "Do you want me to believe you or not, dummy?"
"You're right. You're right, I'm sorry," you grumble, straightening yourself. "I'm just glad that you don't think I'm crazy. I've never even tried confessing this to you before."
"Well, there was a manga exactly like this," she muses, focusing on something far away. "You've probably read it. There was this guy who kept getting thrown back in time whenever he died to the start of this one specific day, and all of the relationships he builds up just go away each time. He has to keep convincing people that he's been there before, and he tells them what's going to happen, and talks about who they are, and gets to know everyone, but everything keeps starting over again. He loses those relationships every time."
She places a hand on your lap, confidently meeting your gaze.
"I don't want that to happen to you. I'd rather believe you."
Wordlessly, you pull her into a tight embrace, holding her as close to your body as you can. Her form steadily relaxes against your touch, the two of you taking in as much solace as you can from one another. She's so small in your arms, so fragile - but she's managed to be a rock for you. She holds onto you as though you'll vanish the second she lets go, and you only manage to pull away through your own hopes that you won't.
"How many times have you told me that?" she whispers.
"What do you mean?"
She lets out a quiet huff, half-frustrated and half-laughing. "You keep looping around, right? How many times did you tell me that you're a time-traveler?"
"Never," you admit. "Today was the first time I ever tried it."
"I can tell."
"Hey, it worked. That's all I care about."
Natsuki snickers, not bothering to try and hide her derisive expression. "Next time, just tell me that the cat has two tails."
"Meaning?"
"It doesn't mean anything," she whines, throwing up her hands. "It's a code phrase. You never prepared for this kind of thing?"
You think that you might have, way back when you were just a little kid, but you've long since forgotten whatever password you planned to tell your past self. It's not like you're the one that you need to worry about convincing at this point. You're more surprised that she's managed to remember her own, much less be able to actually apply it.
"The cat has two tails," you reply. "Got it."
"There's still something I don't get, though," Natsuki murmurs, resting her thumb on her lip. "You said something bad happens tomorrow, right? What?"
An image of Sayori flickers in your mind, her skin pale, the blood pooling just under the skin near her neck. You can still hear the dull creaking sound of the rope straining to hold up her weight. How cold the room was. How quiet it was. The pounding of your heartbeat in your ears as you collapsed to the floor before it started all over. Never again. You've timed your resets to long before you ever have to see it again. Long before it happens again.
"I die," you lie. Natsuki doesn't need to know the truth. Not about Sayori.
"Oh."
"It's getting better," you lie again, trying not to let the situation seem hopeless. "Every day I get a little bit closer. I get to live a little bit longer. But before I know it, it starts all over again."
She can't seem to find her words, settling her gaze squarely on the floor. Telling her about Sayori wouldn't help. It hurts to have to lie to her face, but this at least makes it seem like you have some agency. Like you know what you're doing.
"It doesn't hurt. I'm just there one second, and then I'm back at the start of the week. It starts over again, and I get a little bit further each time. I can beat this. Somehow."
"What happens now?" she whispers.
"Well, um," you sigh, struggling to find the best way to word your situation. "Usually you go home, and I wait for tomorrow to come. After that, everything starts over."
"Then I'm going to wait with you."
"Natsuki--"
"If everything resets tomorrow, then I'm gonna spend the last bit of time with you," she insists. "I don't want you to do it alone."
Her words give you pause. But, truthfully, you don't want her to be alone either. The thought of her sitting up in her room by herself - just waiting for everything to start over without anyone else in the world knowing - is almost enough to make you sick to your stomach. If the two of you are going to wait for a reset, then you're not going to do it without the other.
"Together, then."
"Yeah. Together."
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Hours pass with you two of you laying on the couch, Natsuki's tiny frame resting on top of you. The sunlight fades with each passing moment, the only light left in the room being cast from the dying embers in your fireplace. Shadows dance along the walls with each flicker of the dim flames, you and Natsuki just sitting there and watching them go. You don't know exactly how long you've sat there with her, her peppermint-scented hair resting just beneath your chin, the crackling of the fire serving as the only sound in the room besides her gentle breathing.
"Anon?" Natsuki mumbles.
"Yeah?"
"We..." she hesitates, just for a moment, before raising her voice. "We should write a poem about this."
You fumble around in the darkness, reaching out towards where your coffee table is. Your hands catch on nothing for a few passes until your fingers manage to brush past your notebook. The papers inside rustle quietly as you bring the book over towards you, placing it on top of Natsuki's chest. She turns back to give you a small glare.
"What? Your handwriting is way better than mine," you quip.
She flips through the notebook, eventually landing on a mostly-blank page. Natsuki peels your pen out of the spiral bindings with an expert flourish, letting the tip rest errantly on the first empty line. A dot of ink bleeds out onto the page as she thinks of what to write, the light from the fire just barely bright enough for you to make out her scribbles.
The two of you share ideas back and forth, Natsuki hastily jotting down every decent word or line you manage to throw out. Even with all of the experience you've had writing poems for the Literature Club over all of these resets, you're amazed that she's managing to outpace you. By the time you've thought up a single okay line, she's written down two perfect ones, scratching out other bits and pieces as she goes. It's a whirlwind of pen strokes and brainstorming, and the two of you are done before you even know it.
"There," she declares.
"You want to do the honors of reading it?"
She gives you a half-smile, snuggling herself back into your chest as she holds out the paper in front of her.
"Somehow, by Natsuki and Anon.
The warmth of the blankets is on my skin.
The fire's warmer, still.
But somehow, after all of that
You're the warmest of them all.
I don't know if I was here before.
And if I was, how many times.
But somehow, after all of that
All I care about is now.
You'll go on without me.
You'll leave me behind.
But if I can, somehow
I'll gladly go around again with you.
Somehow, I wish that we can find our way back.
Together."
"It's a little on the nose, don't you think?"
Natsuki bursts out giggling, prompting you to follow suit. It wasn't all that funny, especially following such a somber poem, but there's something carthartic about just letting go and laughing with her after everything you've been through. Catharsis. That's something you haven't felt in a while. Every week has been plagued with thoughts of how to try and stop events from transpiring as they always do, thoughts about how all of this is fleeting and you'll lose everything all over again. But now, to finally come clean, to be able to just lay with her under the blankets, you've never felt closer to anyone else.
Her laughter gradually fades away, leaving nothing more than the occasional muted hiccup while she trembles. Your chuckles die as well, and you finally manage to compose yourself. Natsuki, however, is still going, shaking gently without making much of a sound. She's been going for a moment too long, and you let her go for another before you lean forward to look at her, a wave of concern rushing into your stomach.
She chokes back another sob, biting hard on her knuckle as a fresh stream of hot tears rolls down her cheeks. Little red trails form on her skin as she cries, breath coming in small, muted, ragged gasps as she tries and fails to control herself. In a flash, you're holding her as tight as you can from the awkward position that you're in, sitting up straighter to pull her closer to you.
"I-I'm scared," she chokes, melting back into you.
"Don't be. Everything's looped so many times already. You didn't even know it happened."
Her hand travels down towards yours, squeezing your fingers as tightly as she can. "I just don't want to forget about this, Anon."
"I'll remember everything for the both of us, okay?" you chide, trying not to get choked up yourself. "I'll keep coming around for you. And we'll write a new poem every time, and I'll read them back to you when it all resets. Every reset of you is going to have a brand-new poem to listen to. And when I finally manage to break this cycle, we'll make ones that you'll get to remember."
Natsuki flips over onto her stomach, crawling up your chest and nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. The wetness of her tears still lingers on her cheeks, and she manages to make them soak through your collar.
"Promise?"
You let your fingers run your her hair, caressing the top of her head. "Of course I promise."
"Okay," she sighs, taking the first deep breath she's taken in a while. "Anon?"
"Yeah?"
"I...really like you."
"I love you too."
Natsuki huffs, but she sounds too tired to put up a proper fight. "I didn't say love."
"You didn't have to."
She cuddles against your chest, rubbing her face against the material of your shirt and gripping you tightly while she wiggles. You drape a single arm over her back, almost as through you're protecting her from falling off the couch, and lay back down with her. The last embers of the fire finally extinguish themselves, the room going nearly pitch-dark. A single beam of moonlight is the only thing still illuminating the room, and it streaks along Natsuki's sleeping expression. She gives a gentle snore, shuffling around as she slumbers. You pat her head one last time before you shut your eyes too, finally letting this day come to an end.
You think back as far as you can, to the moment you joined the club. The sun streaming in through the windows of the classroom, rows upon rows of empty desks sitting unused amongst the other four members of the club. You push Natsuki's candy scent out of your mind, remembering the dusty smell of your school, the rubber of the erasers and the scent of fresh pencil shaving flooding the air. The sound of Monika's voice as she told everyone to write their poems, giving you the first real assignment you ever got from the Literature Club.
When you open your eyes again, you're back in the club, all four girls staring expectantly at you. Right back where you saved.
"Okay. I've decided then. I'll join the Literature Club."
The same cheers. The same looks of joy across each one of their faces at the prospect of getting a new member. The same scooting of chairs as everyone stands up to leave, ready to write their very first poem to be properly shared with everyone else. Every movement is studied, perfect. Not because of any natural talent, but simply by how many times you've done it all before. But this time is different.
You call out to Natsuki.
"What?" she demands.
"The cat has two tails." you tell her.
And you watch her eyes light up.