Work Text:
Tuesday, 31.12.1991
Ira pushed the elevator door open. It was colder than she expected.
“Isaac?”
The man in question walked to the railing. He was wearing his usual attire, minus the lab coat, which made Ira feel awkward.
She had gotten all dressed up, wearing a brown plaid dress with a blouse underneath.
“I’ll come down”, he told her, a sly smile on his face.
Ira wiped her dress down and looked around as he descended the stairs. His lab looked tidier that usual.
“Did you clean up?”
“A bit”, he answered, reaching his hand out to her.
Ira took his hand, a wave of warmth and comfort washing over her.
“Do you want to see the telescope in action?”
Her face lit up: “Yeah!”
Isaac pulled her to the back of his lab. He adjusted the gadget she had gifted him on Christmas before he gestured her to look through it.
Ira crouched down slightly, closing one eye.
It was a clear night, and the fireworks hadn’t started yet. It was a waning crescent moon.
Never had she seen the moon so clearly, it almost felt like she could touch it.
Ira stepped back, looking over at Isaac with a giddy expression.
“Do you want to do stargazing inside?” She frowned: “Inside?” He grinned: “Follow me.”
Ira hurried after him as he walked back up the spiral staircase, and then all the way to the back.
She finally looked up to the ceiling and noticed a huge net stretched out throughout the ceiling. Isaac stood next to a ladder that led up to that net.
“You want me to go up there?”, she asked in disbelief. “Yeah, I put the hammock up.”
Ira looked back up, questioning if it was stable. “It won’t fall, it’s safely secured”, he assured her.
Ira glanced at the ladder. She was wearing a dress, which was kind of a problem, so she demanded: “You go first!”
He did as she told him and he gently jumped on the hammock when he reached the top: “See? It’s safe! You can come up now.”
Now, without fear, she climbed up the ladder.
Isaac extended his hand out to her and helped pull her in the hammock.
“Oh god”, she groaned as she looked down through the holes.
“What?”, he questioned as he sat down in the middle of net.
Ira crawled closer to him and answered: “I’m scared of heights.”
“You tell me this now?”
“I only remember when I’m in the air”, she whined, lying down next to him.
She was still scared it wouldn’t hold, but she kept her eyes on the ceiling. “What now?”, she asked.
Isaac didn’t reply, instead fumbling with a remote.
The room turned dark, then he turned another device on.
Ira’s eyes widened as she looked at projected stars on the ceiling.
She turned to Isaac, completely in awe. The boy laid down next to her.
“Do you like it?”
“You made this?”
“Yeah, built it yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
God, Ira always forgot that he was a prodigy.
“It’s not too complicated”, he answered, scooting a bit closer.
She slightly leaned her head on his shoulder.
Her eyes were fixated on the stars that were slowly moving. “This is crazy”, she whispered.
He chuckled. She could feel him resting his cheek on her head. They were quiet for a few seconds.
“Can I ask you something?”, Ira ended the silence.
“Sure”, he whispered in her hair.
“Why did you stay here over the winter break?”
He stayed silent for a bit, which made Ira regret her question. She didn’t want to pry.
Isaac took her hand, as if he felt her nervousness.
The comforting calmness he always radiated pushed away her anxieties immediately.
“Well, our mother died when we were young”, he started explaining, “And our father died last year.”
“I’m sorry”, was all she could muster up.
“Oh, don’t be”, he chuckled, “Our father was an asshole, we’re better off without him.”
Shocked at his response Ira lifted her head to look at him.
She was met with a grin.
He really meant that.
“So, who’s responsible for you and Francoise?”
“Some uncle, but he lets us be”, Isaac explained.
Ira swallowed hard: “What do you mean 'he lets you be'?”
“He knows we're fine on our own”, Isaac kept explaining. Ira didn’t say anything, she just lied back down.
She didn’t believe him. They weren’t on their own, Isaac was. And Ira doubted that he was fine.
“You know, our father had very specific expectations for our future.”
Ira felt his urge to talk about it through his hand: “Like what?”
“Our family comes from a long line of outcasts, especially Davincis”, he told her, “We have records from our ancestors all the way back to England.”
“So, old money?”
“Yes, really old”, he sighed, “And very proud outcasts too.”
Proud outcasts.
The possibility of that had never occurred to Ira. She had only ever felt shame.
“Because I was a Davinci, our father wanted me to carry on the family name.”
She frowned: “He wanted you to have kids?”
He huffed in amusement: “He did.”
Ira thought about it and wondered what part his sister played in their family. She only now realized that she never saw Francoise use any kind of ability.
“What about Francoise, what kind of outcast is she?”
Isaac tensed for a moment, and Ira knew she pried too much.
“I think— I’ll tell you that another time”, she felt him nuzzle his face in her hair.
Ira was still looking at the projected stars, and silence filled the air again.
Warmth, comfort, safety and the feeling of being wanted seemed to pass through Isaac’s hand.
They stayed like that for minutes. Isaac was suspiciously still.
“Did you fall asleep?”, Ira giggled to herself.
“No”, he finally moved, pushing himself up so he could look at her. She wanted to say something when the loud cracking of fireworks rang through the tower.
Ira jumped and turned towards one of the windows.
She groaned: “God, I hate New Years.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to watch the fireworks?”
She sat up and looked at him for a moment.
His locks seemed more defined than they usually did. She fought back the urge to push her fingers through it. That’s when she realized he did put effort in his looks. He did his hair.
Ira suppressed a grin as she pictured him doing a curly hair routine in his bathroom.
“Well, if you insist, I’ll watch the fireworks with you.”
His face lit up some more, he stood up and walked towards the ladder.
Ira remembered her dress again.
“Wait!”, she called out, she tried to get up but fell back in the hammock again.
“What’s wrong?”, Isaac came over and pulled her to her feet.
“I’m going down first!”, Ira stated, stumbling towards the ladder.
She could hear him say something along the lines of if you say so.
Ira carefully climbed down. She looked out the clocktower, over to Jericho. Fireworks of all different colours lit up the sky and Ira wondered what her family was doing.
Probably watching TV or listening to the radio while drinking expensive Prosecco.
Isaac’s hand on her lower back ripped her out of her thoughts. He sat down.
Ira joined him, letting her feet dangle off the elevated platform they were on.
She leaned her head on his shoulder; he reciprocated the contact by putting his arm around her waist. He put his second hand in hers and for a moment, all was well.
Ira closed her eyes. The contact easing her once again. How was he always so calm and collected?
It seemed like he was at peace with everything and she admired it.
Ira slid a bit closer to him, and she suddenly noticed a faint smell that reminded her of arolla pine.
Once again, she felt a slight tingling in her stomach, and she couldn’t tell which one of them was feeling it.
The serene silence made her think about the weekend. Their classmates would return and everything would go back to normal.
“Isaac?”
“Yes?”
“What’s going to happen when the winter break is over?”, Ira questioned, not wanting to be too direct.
“You mean us seeing each other?”
“Yes.”
When Isaac was silent for a moment Ira felt her stomach tighten, yet the tingling persisted.
“I think”, he paused again, as if searching for the right wording. Then he continued, his voice a mere whisper: “I think I could get used to regular visits from you.”
Ira’s face lit up.
“You know I hate working in silence”, he added in the same hushed tone.
Ira sat up straight so she could look at him.
“I’ll fill the silence for you”, she grinned at him, “I’ll come here regularly.”
“How regularly?”
Isaac’s intense gaze made her nervous again.
At first, she wanted to make a joke, say “Oh I don’t know, maybe once or twice a month!”, but something in his eyes stopped her.
“Daily?”, she suggested, feeling unsure.
He nodded: “You better come daily, who else is going to soothe your anxiety?”
For a moment she stopped breathing.
“My anxiety?”
How did he know about that?
“Oh, Ira”, the hand on his waist travelled to the back of her neck. Another wave of confusing emotions washed over her by the contact.
“Your dreams are waking you up every night, aren’t they?”
Ira didn’t answer, she just swallowed hard.
“You put makeup over your eyebags, and you doze off in class a lot, but no teacher says anything because your grades are good.”
He adjusted the way he was sitting before he kept talking: “You think no one notices, but I do, I see the burden you are carrying.”
Ira was starting to feel like she had thoroughly underestimated what she had gotten herself into.
“So, know, whatever normie made you feel like you couldn’t talk about what you see in your visions is full of shit”, he urged, “I’m right here, you can tell me!”
Ira tried to sort through all the overwhelming emotions she was feeling. The uncontrollable cascade of it all made it impossible for her to figure out which were hers and which were his.
Her hand was shaking as she grabbed Isaac’s arm, pulling his hand away from her neck. She held onto his arm, not wanting him to think she was pushing him away.
Ira breathed for a moment, avoiding eye contact by looking out the clock tower.
First, she felt fear. Fear of doing what he asked of her.
Then she felt shame. Shame for the idea of burdening someone with her visions.
Then she felt relief.
Like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.
He was asking her to tell him.
Suddenly she didn’t have to carry it on her own anymore.
Ira looked back at him again.
“I know you said you and Francoise were fine on your own”, Ira started, “But you’re not fine.”
This time he was caught off guard.
“You don’t talk to Francoise about things that are on your mind, do you?”
He clenched his jaw and then shook his head: “She carries enough with her already.”
“Then tell me”, Ira demanded, “We’ll help each other.”
He pressed his lips together, having to find it in himself to let go as well.
He finally spoke: “Alright.”
“We’ll be miserable together”, she smiled and let go of his arm.
He returned his hand to the back of her neck. An avalanche of emotions hit her again and he leaned in closer.
“Miserable together”, he whispered.
And then for a moment, Ira was at peace with the storm of emotions. She managed to accept it as part of her.
Isaac looked at her lips and then up at her eyes again, as if asking for permission.
She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes.
Isaac closed the distance, putting his other hand on her waist. Their lips crashed together and the emotions heightened.
It was electric, it was overwhelming, it felt deafening, yet she leaned into it.
In protest of everything she was ever taught, she put one hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. The other hand grabbed his hair, tugging ever so slightly.
Someone pulled back, but only allowing a few inches between them.
Ira felt her heart pounding; she locked eyes with him again.
“I like the taste of your lips”, he shamelessly said.
“That must be my lip balm”, she innocently answered, suppressing a grin.
“Cranberry?”
Ira shook her head.
“Seems like I need to taste again”, the grin on his face widened.
He didn’t need to tell her twice, she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips on his.
After a few seconds Ira pulled back.
Isaac thought for a moment, before guessing again: “Pomegranate?”
She nodded and laughed: “Impressive.”
Another bang from a firework made both of them jump.
Ira cursed under her breath, looking out the window.
Isaac’s hand from behind her neck travelled down to her arm.
The loss of contact seemed to stop Ira’s psychic adrenaline. All it left behind was exhaustion.
And just like that Ira knew her night was over.
She turned back to Isaac.
“Can we go to sleep?”
“Now?”
“Yes, I’m tired.”
“Was the kissing that bad?”
Ira chuckled and stood up; her entire body feeling heavy.
She could only guess the storm of both of their emotions had tired her psychic mind out.
“You want to go to your room now?”, he questioned, “At ten PM?”
“You can come with me”, she answered, holding onto the railing.
“Or,” Isaac supported her standing, “We could sleep here?”
She snorted: “Where? On the flo—” Ira interrupted herself.
He meant the hammock.
She bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at the net.
“Okay”, she agreed, “But if I fall, I’ll sue you.”
“Deal.”
“But we need blankets”, Ira exclaimed.
“I’ll go get everything, you go climb up!”, he traced a quick circle on her back before hurrying away.
Ira watched as he went down the spiral staircase.
“Don’t worry, I can’t see under your skirt from here!”, he called out.
Ira looked away, laughing to herself before she started climbing the ladder.