Chapter Text
When he first showed up behind your apartment door, you closed the door on him. You checked your phone, checked your outfit, and pinched yourself just in case you have finally lost your mind and is dreaming of going to work even in a dream.
You opened the door again. He was still there, with his golden smile and hair, he stood there like a slightly confused, but still optimistic, puppy.
“Good morning,” he said. “I know this is probably super sudden but—”
“Sorry, you must’ve gotten the wrong address,” you replied, taking sneak glances at him. You must admit from the face, to the hair, to the height, to the voice, this cosplayer had gotten the details down to a tea. It made you a little conscious of how you looked in your less-than-attractive work outfit and less-than-thoughtful hairstyle you pulled your hair into.
It should be a crime to look that good, you thought. In fact, the face seemed so natural that you couldn’t tell if there was makeup at all on that brilliant face. You were sure, with that head turning face, many would want to share a picture with him. At this, a little thought of sympathy accompanied the tiny jealousy toward whoever that was having a date with this man.
An apologetic smile dressed his face, and his eyes curved up with it. “Although I’m not entirely sure where I am right now, if you are here, then I think I am at the right place.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not expecting anyone at the moment.” Handsome as he is, you did not wish to be kidnapped or killed at the doorsteps of your rented apartment, especially not on your way to work. You took a step back, closing the door on him again.
Only this time, he stopped the door, calling out your name. You tried to close the door even faster, panic shooting up from the pits of your stomach.
“I’m Lars—Lars Rorschach—”
And I am the queen of England, such a sarcastic reply crossed your mind. With the economy wavering, even scammers these days do their researches and upped their preparedness. The door shut with a click as resistance on the other side of the door disappeared.
“I’m sorry…this entrance was not what I had in mind…I…somehow ended up here, and had this feeling that you were just behind this door but I should’ve thought this through before everything…” His voice sounded wilted. “At the very least, if you could point to a place I could go…even the nearest police station would do.”
Your phone opened with the police dialed but not yet called. You hesitated against your better instincts for possible danger. The time displayed on the top corner of your phone spoke an unpleasant truth that you were going to be late for work no matter what happened.
“Please…”
The heart softening voice pleaded out again from behind the door, and you cursed yourself for being such a helpless person against the voice that comforted you through all those days from the cold screen of your phone. You opened the door to see that magnificent face scrunched up in dejection. You cursed at yourself again.
“Are you going to kill me?” You asked outright. You really did need to start get going to work. “Scam me? Steal from me? Kidnap me?”
The questions surprised him, stunned even. “No…? Why would I—has anyone done these to you here?” There were more concern in his tone than defense, and it surprised you back.
“Well, lots of possibilities these days. I really need to get to work, so please—” ask someone else—but those words deleted themselves as you caught yourself in those worried eyes. Worried for you? Worried for himself? It was truly unfair for him to have a face with the one you love through a distance of a world.
“…If you are going to kill me or sell my organs, you can do it now before I go to work. If you are going to steal or scam from me, there aren’t much to steal from, so I recommend not, or target a richer neighborhood. If you are going to kidnap me…” You trailed off, from a kidnapper’s perspective, there’s not exactly a good reason to not sell you alive so long as you are able to clock in to work with an able body.
“I am not doing any of that, and sweetheart—ma’am—you should not be this resign with the fact that someone committing possible harm to you.”
The stern in his words struck you silent.
“I apologize, truly, this was greeting was impudent on my part,” he apologized again, with such sincerity that it made you felt bad. “…I should get going too. I’ll ask someone else.”
The more steps he took away from you, the more uneasy your heart pounded. “Wait—” It was strange, and stupid, and you hated it, “—here.” You shoved a 20 dollar bill at him, “It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.” If he actually was a scammer, at least the gesture could be counted as good karma with the pure intentions from your heart.
Gratefulness washed over his entire demeanor. “Thank you, even with such a brash meeting with me, you—”
“Right, okay, I really, really do have to be on my way to work now,” you cut him off, running past him.
You stopped yourself from looking back in his direction, and hoped that he would find his own way. Only the minor disappointment that you might never see that face again lingered in your head for a moment.
Just a moment, because you were going to be really late for work, and could only hope the commute would be kind to you.
The second time you saw him was after work, with him squatting down by your apartment door. The second he noticed you, he sprouted up, calling out your name like you were his ray of hope.
You reached for your phone, and debated, once again to call the police. Explainations started to rapidly pour from him before you do:
“I know it is very suspicious that I turned up again, but I did managed to find the police station, and your address is the one listed on all the files they could find of me,” he explained, afraid for any misunderstandings.“I denied it, and they thought that I may be losing my mind and sent me to the hospital. The doctors didn’t find anything wrong with me than possible ‘short term memory loss’, which isn’t enough to keep me there, so they sent me back here.” He moved aside from your door, revealing a bag of something. “—And! One of your friends—they called out your name when talking to me on my way back here—also gifted a small cantaloupe. She said it’s from her company.” He paused for a bit. “She said, ‘for the two of you’ and went on her way.”
You stood about a meter away from him, and listened to all of his explanation in silence. You glanced at the small plastic bag on the floor, then at him, then briefly processed everything he just said. He got the name of your friend right, but what are the odds of him just being a really handsome and prepared criminal? You sighed, you were too drained from work for this.
You ended up calling your friend. “There’s this handsome guy. Blonde, blue eyes”—he perked up at this comment— “and he is telling me that you gifted me a cantaloupe from your company today, saying that it is for the two of us. Be honest, is this a prank or are you in on a trafficking scheme on me?”
“Oh yeah, I ran into Lars today. My company has been giving out cantaloupe as the summer employee benefit—honestly I would’ve preferred bonus money directly into my account—but I was too lazy to carry it home so I gave it to him for the two of you enjoy,” your friend answered, so casually like its totally reasonable.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean the two of us?” You questioned, beyond confused now. “You actually saw him?”
Your friend questioned back, confused by your confusion, “He’s your boyfriend, what are you talking about? Are you guys doing one of those couple pranks friend things? Truth or dare?”
“I don’t—” You were lost for words. “ I don’t have a boyfriend??”—At least not in this dimenison you don’t?
“Okay, you guys are definitely pranking me now. I will not be the third wheel to your little couple games!” Like that, your friend hung up on you.
“…” He peered at you. You matched his glace back.
“I can give you my ID?” He spoke up, holding out an ID to you. The ID seemed legit enough, with printed name, date of birth, picture, and everything. Except, it matched with the exact information of Lars Rorschach in your phone, someone that wasn’t supposed to be existing in flesh in your reality.
“Lars Rorschach,” You read out. “Birthday, August fifth.”
“That’s me! All true and through!”
“Right, so you have the exact name, with the exact face, and voice.” You ran your finger over the printed name on the ID. “What are your intentions? You don’t mean to tell me that you are actually him, somehow ended up here, and we will act out in real life, the many fictional scenarios that I’ve had in my mind.”
He snapped his fingers with a bright smile. “Bingo! That is how our situation looks as of now. You caught on so quick! I know you would! Then again you’ve always been more experienced with this—”
You were feeling more and more like you picked up a lost golden retriever.