Work Text:
The door creaked, opening slowly, as if reluctantly. As if he wasn't welcome here anymore.
"I don't care", Marty thought angrily.
He'd planned to sort out the stuff in the garage, to put everything in order, including his own feelings and emotions - and then to move on, especially considering a lot of interesting things ahead, promised by the changed reality.
The skateboard rolled under his cot with a familiar movement, followed by a backpack. Marty slowly looked around, assessing the amount of the work - and noting out of the corner of his mind that something had changed in the room...
The bowl with the remains of dog food was already soaking in the sink, the blueprints, piled up in a heap after the amplifier accident, were falling into place one by one. Marty was picking the things up, laying them out, wiping the dust - and yet realising there was still a dull emptiness inside. Putting the tools scattered all over the garage in a box ("Marty, have you seen the 7/8 wrench? I swear it was here..."), he carefully closed the lid, smoothed out the sheets of paper on the table...
A sparrow chirped outside the window, and Marty suddenly realised what had changed inside. The garage was always full of the sounds of the clocks - the ticking, the melodious chime. Now it was silent. There were empty spots on the wall where the clocks had once been... A box of tools flew in one direction, a burned-out light bulb, clutched in his hand - in the other. Marty slowly slid down the wall, feeling the emptiness inside turn into a sharp knife. And then the tears came, and there seemed to be no end of them.
The sparrow outside the window got closer, looked at the familiar boy, now for some reason sobbing so brokenly. However, there was nothing the little bird could do to help. It just chirped sympathetically and flew off the branch on its own bird business...
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