Work Text:
DECEMBER 5TH, 2026
His eyes followed the steady stream of snowflakes falling down through the window of his and Trinity's fourth story apartment. This was the second first snowfall he'd experienced since he started living with her back in October of the previous year. Then, they had barely known each other. Now, she felt like all he knew. It felt momentous which was why he was taking the time to watch it, with a dining table chair pulled up beside the window. His face hovered so close to the glass, the hotness of his breath left a small patch of fog. It had come a little later than usual, the first snowfall of the season that was, or at least from what he knew of Pittsburgh's weather patterns. While it did snow in some parts Nebraska around this time of year, Broken Bow would rarely get hit with any, so most of his upbringing was spent dreaming of a white Christmas. One where he could roll around and make a massive snowman with the people he loved.
He and Trinity actually did that in the small alleyway behind their building in the late December of last year. Well, mostly him...but Trinity had begrudgingly joined in by providing one of her scarves and pair of sunglasses for him to dress the snowman up with. A picture he had snapped of her standing next to the snowman, looking so focused while she sculpted its head, sat pinned to the freezer section of their fridge.
Trinity was having an impromptu girls night over at Samira's apartment along with Victoria and Mel. An invite was extended to him as well, but the shift had been particularly exhausting and he didn't feel like he had to energy to keep up with how wild they could get. Samira only lived a few blocks away so Trinity decided she would just walk there and back but if she ended up drinking too much that she would call Dennis to come pick her up in her car. Lately, it had been quite uncommon for him to be in the apartment alone at night. After things fizzled out between Trinity and Garcia back in July, she was home a lot more. Though, he was glad she was still having fun; she deserved it.
He pushed himself up from the chair just as the small digital clock on the kitchen bench buzzed for 11pm, his knees creaking louder than the uneven floorboard beneath his feet. Normally he'd be in bed by now considering he would typically awake between 5:30 and 6 for his shift the next morning. But Trinity's lack of return kept him vigilant. She had always described herself as someone who didn't need much sleep to function though he could argue heavily against that. He sent her a quick 'you need me to pick you up?' text and poured himself a cup of cold coffee from the stale pot.
He expected a response within the next few minutes, which would likely be a yes, so he readied himself with sliding on his new coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck. He also pocketed Trinity's scarf that she had left behind to bring along with him. But a knock at the door froze him where he stood, filling him with this immediate sense of dread that he couldn't explain. Because if it were Trinity, why would she be knocking? She had her keys with her. Fists pounding against the door stunned him again before he even had the chance to reach for the handle.
Two male police officers stood on the other side, snow dusting the shoulders of their jackets and the brims of their hats; grim expressions on their face.
No.
No, no, no, no..
"Evening, sir," the officer on the left said gently. "We extend our apologies to disturb you so late, but... do you know a Trinity Santos?"
Bells are ringing. Bells are pounding. Pounding in his ears over and over and over and over because he knows something is wrong.
"I-I'm," he choked on a wad of spit, "her roommate," stumbled out soon after.
The one on the right let out a soft sigh and reached into his pocket, pulling out a plastic evidence bag. Inside sat Trinity's wallet; the ringing grew louder.
"Approximately one hour ago a pedestrian reported a disturbance in the alleyway behind this building. Emergency services were advised and arrived on the scene shortly after."
What were they saying? Why were they telling him this?
"Paramedics exhausted all efforts, but her injuries were too extensive." The officer hesitated, eyes searching Dennis' face. "I'm very sorry, sir. She was pronounced dead on arrival."
Dead. Dead on arrival. DOA. DOA. DOA. DOA. It was a phrase he heard so often at work and yet never, never could he have expected they would be said in conjunction with her.
"...What?"
"We understand this is extremely shocking news Mr...?"
"W-Whitaker."
"Mr Whitaker."
"W-Wait...what...I'm a doctor--we're doctors--what happened to her?" He felt his breathing become shallow, the air was thin and he couldn't get enough oxygen in to make sense of this. That must be what was happening. That must be, because there was no possible way that they were telling him that Trinity was dead.
The officers shared a look and he just felt that pit in his gut sink heavier. "We don't have a lot of details as of yet. But her injuries were indicative of repeated blunt force trauma...we believe she was beaten to death."
Knowing that her body laid there cold, her blood crystalising beneath the soft snow gently falling atop her, in the same spot where they had built that damn snowman a year prior fucking killed him inside. Knowing that she was a few stories below him being brutally beaten and bleeding out in pain while he was fucking watching snowflakes fall through the window--it almost felt as if it were his own fists that pummeled her to death. That's how responsible he felt. The weight of his guilt was going to crush him into the floor.
"We offer our condolences for your loss, Mr. Whitaker." He paused. "Was Miss San-"
"Doctor," he rasped.
The officer blinked before nodding. "...Right. Was Dr Santos your spouse?"
Dennis shook his head once, trying to form the words around the tightness in his throat. "N-No but...she's my everything."
It was the deafening silence that he was left alone with that hurt more than anything. Between the two of them, silence was more akin to myth than reality. Whether it be music, the television, the clash of pots and pans in the kitchen, or hell their own arguments, it was never quiet in the apartment. So, when after the officers left with their half-hearted condolences, Dennis was left in that terrible unfamiliar silence. The one that reminded him that Trinity Santos, who in many more ways than the apartment had, become home to him, was dead.
He wouldn't be able to recall who he made the first call to after he spent a good hour with his thumb hovering over his contact list, but Samira, Victoria and Mel all showed up banging on the front door ten minutes later. That's right...they had all been hanging out together with her. His first instinct when they showed up was anger. Anger that they had let her leave and walk back alone; sent her to her death. But that dissipated the moment Victoria's arms wrapped around him and he broke down crying for the first time since the news was dumped on him. And it was then, that the silence was no more. Not for joy, but for mourning. As the choked sobs and strained murmurings of disbelief echoed from each of them.
DECEMBER 6TH, 2026
"What about...her family?" Mel asked gently some time later, her voice hoarse. She stood in the kitchen, tightly squeezing her hands together, rocking back and forth in place.
Dennis lifted his head from Victoria's shoulder, trying to recall the police officers last words before they left. It was difficult to focus through the thick haze making him feel like he was pinned to the bottom of the ocean. They had asked him if he was able to let her family know, but he really had no way of contacting them considering that Trinity was estranged.
"Uhm...I..." he was searching for the words, though it was hard. It was really fucking hard to do anything other than cry after finding out the most important person in his life had been murdered. "The police said they would reach out to them," he was able to say finally.
"Fuck," Samira staggered from the bathroom, wiping the corner of her mouth. It was the third...or maybe fourth? time since she had been hit with the overwhelming urge to vomit since she heard the news. She dropped down on the couch beside him and Victoria, and rubbed her temple. Everyone was beyond exhausted, and it was at least 2AM by this point. Five hours until all of them, all of them should have been, starting their shift. "Someone's has to let work know that--" she cut herself short, unable to verbalise it.
But they all knew what she meant. Dennis couldn't even think five minutes from now, he couldn't imagine possibly being able to go into work and treat patients. Deal with death over and over again. Victoria fidgeted next to him and fumbled her phone out of her pocket.
"Vic?" he croaked.
"M-My mother is working tonight," she wiped the dripping snot from her nose with the back of her hand. "I'll call her and she can inform those in the ED."
Dennis was shaking his head before she could even finish her sentence. He couldn't put this burden on her, not when the guilt was suffocating him like this. It was his responsibility, just like it was his responsibility to keep her safe. It was all his fault, he should have just asserted he would drive her there and back. What good roommate-- what good friend lets a young woman walk alone at 11 o'clock at night?
Victoria hummed gently, giving him a look of confused through her tear coated eyes. "Dennis?"
"I'll do it," he pushed himself up from the couch, feeling all their eyes on him. The earth was unsteady beneath him, ready to swallow him whole and condemn him for his sin.
"Are you sure you can?" Mel asked, peeking over from the kitchen.
But he couldn't even muster up a response to give her as he stumbled down the hallway. Trinity's room was first and he found himself unable to venture any further to his. They had always been pretty lax about privacy, especially as time went on with them regularly barging into each others rooms. He spread his palm against the cool wood of her door and pressed his forehead against it, squeezing his eyes shut. A small part of him was actually so delusional that he thought she could be on the other side. Though as his hand reached for the handle, he stopped himself short. Because he knew if he did open this door right now to see her empty room, he might actually lose it. So he forced himself to continue on until he reached his bedroom, staggering inside until his knees hit the edge of his bed that he then collapsed upon. Instinctually, his body curled in on itself, his coat that he had yet to take off still wrapped around him. The coat he put on to go get her...he wrapped his arms tighter around himself.
With every sluggish blink, it felt as if hours were passing; the world was slowly drifting ahead and he was just left behind. What was he doing again? Oh right-- calling. With robotic movements, he reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. Instead of going to his contacts, his thumb pressed on his chat with Trinity. His 'you need me to pick you up?' message still on delivered and he swallowed down the thickness in his throat that told him it would forever remain that way. Straining to see through the tears filling his eyes, he switched over to his contacts and pulled up Lena's number. As a charge nurse, he trusted she could spread the information to the necessary people efficiently.
He didn't expect to get an answer on the first call, and he was secretly hoping she wouldn't at all because the idea of saying those words again physically pained him. But alas, what good could possibly be owed to him on this night? Lena answered on the second ring.
"Dr Whitaker? What can I do you for this fine evening?" her overly cheerful voice filled him with such vile emotions, he had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't lash out.
He was silent, just like the consuming silence he had been left with since the news.
"Did you butt dial me in your sleep or something?" she mumbled under her breath, though he still heard.
"Tri-" Dennis near gasped. "Trinity..."
"Trinity? Are you asking about Dr Santos, 'cause she ain't here kid."
Of course he knew that. Of course he knew she wasn't there, he wasn't stupid.
"Lena," he scrunched his entire face tightly together, trying his best to keep himself still sane, "Trinity Santos is dead."
By the evening of the 6th, everyone at the PTMC must have known. Not just from the mouths of those he informed, but the various news stories that had aired about her in the past 24 hours. Some shared more details than others while some took the opportunity to use the tragedy to scare other young women. But none of the adjectives they used really encompassed who Trinity was. They didn't mention her skill and care with patients. They didn't mention her beautiful smile or gentle eyes. They didn't mention the gaping black hole left behind in his heart.
Dr Robby left him a voicemail stating he was permitted to take a few days off, meanwhile Dr Al-Hashimi sent flowers with a handwritten note he had yet to read. So did many others, and they all sat neatly in the corner near the entry way--courtesy of Mel having moved them when she dropped by a few hours earlier. After he had made the phone call to Lena, he promptly turned his phone off and stayed in that curled up position for hours, unmoving. It didn't take long for Samira, Mel and Victoria to come check in him, expressions still painted with distraught. They too had suddenly started to receive phone calls from various people from the PTMC to inform them of the news, though they already of course knew. Dennis couldn't speak and he couldn't eat nor drink, he simply existed, though barely.
The three of them had no choice but to attend their shift, an emergency department simply could not function lacking five doctors. All day, there were knocks at the door with delivery people and the flowers his co-workers sent. He didn't get up once and so they had started to pile up at the door, which is what Mel solemnly informed him when she had come by straight after her shift. She wasn't able to stay long since she had to go meet with Becca, but Samira and Victoria turned up just as she was leaving so he wasn't left alone any longer. Their words, not his. Because it wouldn't matter if hundred people were crowding around him right now, if one of them wasn't Trinity, he would feel forever alone.
Aside from those three, he didn't let anyone else in. Several tried, they told him. Garcia had been the most insistent, desperate to just go into Trinity's room and be among her things. But he simply couldn't bare it to see the look of loss in another person's face. And if that made him selfish, he didn't care-- not right now.
He laid in bed still, a plate full of food sitting untouched on his bedside table that Victoria had left. In his left hand, he held Trinity's scarf against his cheek, and in the other, the picture of Trinity and that damn snowman. His tired eyes took their time taking in every single detail of her, his pointer finger slowly tracing the outline of her face.
Her twenty-eighth birthday was a month ago, she was less than half way through her R2 year, she was a kind and determined human being, and she was stripped from life far too soon.
DECEMBER 12TH, 2026
"With what we've gathered from the security tapes, the suspect was forced out of a nearby bar after getting into a fight with some patrons. He intercepted with the victim on this corner here and shoved her into the alleyway where he thereafter...beat her to death. Unfortunately, Trinity Santos' death seems to simply be a case of wrong place, wrong time."
His thumb clicked the pause button numbly before rewinding back a few seconds on the news clip.
"Unfortunately, Trinity Santos' death seems to simply be a case of wrong place, wrong time."
Again.
"Unfortunately, Trinity Santos' death seems to simply be a case of wrong place, wrong time."
Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place, wrong time.
He threw his phone across the bedroom and it smacked against the closet door before thudding on the ground. Like many instances in the week since her death, Dennis found himself so incredibly angry. And perhaps the reason why he was the angriest today was because her funeral was tomorrow morning and that would mean actually having to believe that she was never coming back. How was he supposed to accept that? How could he accept that this compounding silence would be forever?
In the literal sense of the word, sure the apartment had not been silent. Aside from the deafening screech of his thoughts, Samira had been here everyday when she wasn't working. Cooking him food, crying together, and at least making the effort to still act like functional human beings unlike him. And by the third day, she had dragged him out of bed and forced him to shower. Mel and Victoria dropped by when they could, and yet, it was silent of joy. It was silent of laughter and silly arguments and complaints about the uneven floorboards.
Never in his over a year of living with Trinity had he ever gone a full week without needing to repair something at her request. Not that he minded it at all, he liked feeling useful and it was his way of repaying her for letting him live rent free until his intern year started. But things like the curtain rod in her room always falling off the wall, or the constant issues with her bathroom sink were insignificant now. Because she was no longer around to notice and be affected by it.
Samira, Victoria and Mel were beyond stronger than him, always putting on their brave faces when he was around. But he heard them, he heard their choked sobs from his room, their muffled cries of genuine pain. That was the kind of impact Trinity Santos left behind.
DECEMBER 13TH, 2026
Iniwan ka na ng eroplano
Okay lang, baby, huwag kang magbago
Dito ka lang humimbing sa aking piling, antukin
Dennis half-awoke with an aching heart as his dream state gently lulled Trinity's voice into his ears. She had never told him the name, but he had come to recognise the lyrics as a song she sung most mornings while getting ready. Though what struck him was that his eyes were fully open now and yet he was still hearing the singing.
Kukupkupin na lang kita
Sorry, wala ka nang magagawa
Mahalin mo na lang aki nang sobra-sobra
Para patas naman tayo, 'di ba?
He threw himself upward and scrambled out of bed still in his sleepy daze, his sluggish movements ending up with his legs getting twisted in the blanket and he smacked against the wooden floor with a loud thud. His phone clattered next to him and he latched onto it immediately. What caught his attention was that the screen was still in pristine condition, but he knew it had been covered in cracks after he threw it yesterday.
Sasalubungin natin ang kinabukasan
Nang walang takot at walang pangamba
Tahdana'y mayro'ng trip na makapangyarihan
Kung ayay, may dahilan, kung gusto, palaging maryo'ng paraan
5:55 AM NOV 29TH
What?
He promptly slapped himself across the face, and the real sting and slight ringing in his ears still did not stop the sound of Trinity singing nor change the date on his phone. It should have read 'DEC 13TH'.
November 29th, 2026. November 29th, 2026. November 29th, 2026. November 29th, 2026. November 29th, 2026. November 29th, 2026-- that was one week before her death.
But how could that be possible? Trinity was...she was...
Dennis pushed himself to his feet and exited his room in a panic, moving more and faster than he had in over a week in the depth of his grief induced depressive slump. Once he reached the hallway, the tone of her voice became clearer and the familiarity made him falter. What was going to happen when he followed her voice, was he really going to see her? Or would his mind continue to play cruel tricks on him.
Pinaiyak ka ng manghuhula
He took a cautious step toward the kitchen.
Hindi na raw tayo magkasamang tatanda
And another, the singing gently growing louder as he neared.
Buti na lang, maryo'ng langit na nagtatanggol sa
He reached the end of the hallway and pressed his body flat against the wall and sounds of footsteps, chopping against a board, and gentle sighs in between lyrics.
Pag-ibig na pursigido't matiyaga
He thrust himself forward, stumbling into the kitchen and it was then that he was met with a sight he thought he would never see again; Trinity grimacing at him.
DECEMBER 13TH NOVEMBER 29TH, 2026
He was frozen as she set down her knife, empty containers and ingredients covered the bench in front of her. Her hair was tied back in a neat pony tail, a dark maroon long-sleeved top on, and her scrub pants. Her face was free from blemishes, nor was she buried in the snow while her blood crystalised around her; nothing at all like the ways he had imagined her since those policemen told him the circumstances of her death. She was standing only a few feet away from him...perfectly fine. Perfectly alive.
She gave him a puzzled look and snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Did you hit your head or something? Is that what the sound was earlier?"
"Wha...I--um...wait..." he stammered dumbly.
Her face suddenly became serious. "Wait, seriously, did you? You're acting so weird."
"T-Trinity," was the only coherent sound able to make it past his lips, his eyes blown wide still in disbelief. Regardless of what the date on his phone told him, or the fact that his dead best friend/roommate was literally standing in front of him, it still couldn't fully click that he actually was in the past.
How does one accept an impossibility?
She snorted at him before pointing at her chest, sarcasm laced in her tone. "Yes, I Trinity, " she then directed her finger toward him, "you Huckleberry."
Trinity moved past his frozen state and continued packing her lunch, the exact same one she had made on this date-- the first time. He remembered because it looked and smelled so amazing that he spent half of the shift persuading her into letting him have some during his break. While he had still been reheating the leftovers from their friendsgiving celebration on the 26th, she had jumped back into her experimental dishes that somehow kept turning out amazing.
He didn't know what to say, his mind blank yet churning through all the possibilities at the same time. Was he truly dreaming? Had his grief sent him insane? Or was he really, like physically and by all meaning of the word literally existing on the 29th of November, 2026: one week before Trinity would be suddenly killed.
Grieving someone who was still standing in front of him was a peculiar feeling. The entire shift, he couldn't stand to let her out of his sight. He had already lived this day before, he knew what the patients would be, he knew what the steps would be the save them. So he used that to his advantage to keep Dr Robby and Dr Al-Hashimi impressed so he could have the freedom to be assigned cases with Trinity. She kept giving him weird looks and telling him to fuck off and find his own patients. He understood it, this Trinity had know idea of what her fate would be, nor was she aware that he had just spend over a week mourning her death. But still, he could fathom her thinking he was batshit crazy if it meant he could protect her. For reasons he couldn't explain, the universe had given him this chance to do the right thing and save her. He was taking no chances.
Though he did have to stop himself after she slammed the door to the women's bathroom in his face. He couldn't be acting too crazy otherwise there was no way she would take any of the suggestions he was coming up with to alter her plans on the 5th.
"Dr Whitaker!"
He jolted in his seat to see Dana standing over him with her hands on her hips. She gave him an unimpressed look, but he saw Trinity snicker at him from across the ED and he just couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at that; even if it made him look like a weirdo.
"Been calling your name for five minutes, kid. Chop chop, we got a drowning victim less than a minute out. You and Santos are gonna join Dr Mohan."
He nodded and moved to his feet, fidgeting with the end of his stethoscope as he walked over to Trinity. Once again, he was struck with that peculiar feeling. She was talking, he could see her mouth moving and quipped up into her signature teasing smirk. But her words weren't reaching his ears and he felt like he was back in the entryway on that cold snowy night where the policemen were telling him she was dead. Their apartment building was only a block away from the PTMC, were the paramedics that reached her and declared her DOA the same ones he saw on a regular basis?
The ambulance bay doors swung open suddenly, which they did often but this time really spooked him. But the words that he heard next sent a chill down his spine.
"Victim was pronounced DOA, parents are on their way," EMT Ziggler announced upon entry, her and another pushing in the drowning victim on a stretcher.
"Paramedics exhausted all efforts, but her injuries were too extensive. I'm very sorry, sir. She was pronounced dead on arrival."
He flinched violently at the phrase, causing his stethoscope to slip off his shoulders and clatter to the ground. What the fuck was he doing, he already knew that patient would never make it to the PMTC alive; he'd lived this day before. His hands were shaking as he crouched down to pick it up and he jolted when he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He looked up to see Trinity looking at him with concern.
"Really, what is up with you today?"
"N-Nothing, don't worry about it," he stood up, avoiding her eyes.
She huffed and stepped back. "You keep looking like you've seen a ghost."
Was being thrown back into the past and seeing your best friend that you know is technically dead count as seeing a ghost? Probably.
NOVEMBER 30TH, 2026
Dennis was expecting to wake up for real this time on December 13th. A big part of him was really sure that the entirety of yesterday was something his mind conjured up to try and cope with his grief because he couldn't accept her death.
And yet, his blaring alarm brought his attention to the date on his phone. '6AM NOV 30TH'. He could hear Trinity singing the same song from the kitchen and it was then that it finally clicked for him that this was real. There was no possible way he could vocalise any of this to Trinity, or anyone at all, he'd be directed straight to the psych floor. Dennis had binged enough time travel and time loop movies to know no one would ever believe him, but he would figure it out.
Every free moment, he spent it planning out possibilities. The small notebook he kept in the pocket of his scrub pants, meant for keeping track of his patients and to remind himself to research diseases and injuries he wasn't sure about, had become littered with frantic lists and scratched out ideas. December 5th, 2026, everything revolved around that date.
It wasn't like he could simply tell Trinity not to die, she would just laugh in his face. At first, he considered simply going with Trinity to Samira's apartment. That way she wouldn't be walking back home alone. But he then realised then that still opened the both of them to possibility of interacting with Trinity's killer, and a large angry drunk man might still be too much to take on even with Dennis there. Besides, he wasn't there watching the scene unfold that night, nor has he watched any of the surveillance footage. He had no way of knowing how he would approach them and such. It was far too big of a risk.
He thought proposing they take Trinity's car together would then be the perfect solution. But for some reason, his mind-- an knowledge of time loop movies-- kept assuming that if they tried to avoid her death in this way, fate would simply try to kill her in other way. A car made that way too easy, especially with that night being the first snowfall of the season.
Which then made him disregard many other ideas because he would think of some abstract way it could somehow cause her death. Was it healthy to spend such an agonisingly long amount of time thinking of all the ways the most special person in his world could be hurt? Well, yes. But nothing he felt would ever equate to the pain Trinity must have felt, nor the fear or desperation.
DECEMBER 1ST, 2026
The next barrier he realised he was faced with was the fact that Trinity's hangout at Samira's place was not a planned event. It was an impromptu thing that had been mentioned between the four of them at some point on the 5th. A conversation he wasn't around for the first time.
Meaning technically there was nothing with him to intercept with as of yet. He couldn't discourage Trinity from going to something that didn't even exist at this point in time.
While he tried his best to appear like himself and not bring any attention, he knew he had made Trinity worry about him the last few days. Which felt almost stupid in a way considering she was the one who needed to be worried about. And his mind just couldn't help it, every time he looked her way, it blared '4 DAYS AWAY! 4 DAYS AWAY! 4 DAYS AWAY!'.
He had today off actually, though Trinity didn't and he had been so nervous to let her leave, to let her out of his sight. He even tried to convince her to stay home with him, which he knew was stupid while saying it. She had shrugged him off and told him to 'take the day off to fix whatever weird crisis he's had lately'. Trust, he truly was trying.
It was just so difficult and his mind kept turning up blank because he knew Trinity. She wasn't someone who appreciated being told what she could and couldn't do, if anything, the harder he pushed, she more she'd dig her heels in to prove a point. So when she would spring on the invite to the girls night on the 5th, he couldn't simply tell her not to go.
Perhaps he could prevent the hangout from ever being thought of?
God, he didn't know...and it was so fucking frustrating and scary. Because what if he fucking failed at saving Trinity? Dennis squeezed his eyes shut, immediately feeling his entire body clamp up at the thought. He had been purposefully trying not to imagine such a thing because he couldn't predict the horrible spiral it would send him down. Losing her once had been...fuck it truly felt as if all his insides had been carved out and he was left hollow and aching. Losing her twice he didn't even want to imagine.
There was no way to predict what the universe would do. He had no idea if he would be given unlimited chances, sent back over and over until he could successfully save her-- he didn't think he could survive that.
DECEMBER 2ND, 2026
When they got home from work that night, Trinity confronted him while they were eating dinner on the couch. She slammed down her bowl of ramen on the coffee table and paused the Greys Anatomy episode.
"Speak. Now."
He hoped the guilt wasn't evident in his eyes as he shrugged, trying to play it cool. "C'mon Trin, I told you earlier that I'm fine," he laughed awkwardly.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Huckleberry. You..." Her face turned to the side as she seemed to try and find the words. "I can hear you screaming in your sleep."
All the colour drained from his face and he felt his jaw went slack. He had what? Each night since his return to the past, his nights had been plagued with this debilitating sleep paralysis. He would feel trapped in his bed as a forced audience to these movie-like scenes that would play out in front of him, detailed imaginings of what Trinity experienced that night. Reminders almost, or rather punishment. That he deserved to experience this because he didn't do enough to keep her safe, because he was ignorant.
He had no idea his screams to be released from that torment had been physical.
"Wh-What?"
Trinity looked back at him, her eyes soft and the gentleness just made his heart lurch to his throat. "You've been really freaking me out the last few days, I'm...worried," she pursed her lips. "Crash even pulled me aside today and asked if you needed a psych consult and I was seriously considering telling her yes."
He couldn't take it. He couldn't withstand anymore of that caring expression, so he dropped his gaze to his neglected ramen. He couldn't handle the constant reminders of what a good, kind, and genuine person Trinity Santos was, and how much she didn't deserve what happened to her.
"Dennis, you're crying."
His fingers lifted to his cheeks and were met with wetness, he didn't know why it surprised him.
"Jesus...is there," Trinity paused, letting out a soft sigh, "is there anything I can do to help?"
His mind immediately jumped at the opportunity and the request tumbled out of his mouth. "Can we have a movie night on the fifth? Just the two of us?"
"The fifth? That's on Saturday right?" His entire body burned as he watched her think it over, it was clear what he said wasn't what she expected. "I don't see why not, just why so specific lol? Why that night?"
Why that night? He clamped his mouth shut to not spill all the things he wanted to say.
"I-I um...I've just really been missing home lately," the lie tasted sour, "and I wanted to be able to spend time with you because you're," everything, "like family to me. Just thought Saturday would work well."
Trinity let out a short huff and she covered the side of her mouth, though he caught a glimpse of the small smile underneath. "Yeah okay. Let's do it."
DECEMBER 5TH, 2026
The next few days passed rather uneventful and he felt...somewhat lighter? He knew the hardest part was not yet over, but again, knowing that he had confirmed plans with Trinity tonight that would keep her confined to the apartment all night and within his sight made it a lot more digestible. On the car ride to work, Trinity was looking off into the distance and wondered aloud.
"It's insane that it hasn't snowed yet this season. Fucking global warming probably."
His first instinct had been to say that, in fact, it would snow tonight. But speaking in definites when he had no knowledge in meteorology would make his statement come across as weird. So instead he said. "We might be lucky and get some tonight? Wouldn't that fit the mood of the movie night perfectly?"
She snickered at him. "God, you are so lame. Sure buddy."
He looked back out the window as the streets passed and smiled to himself. He really...he really missed this. He missed her teasing quips, he missed her.
Near the end of their shift, Trinity plopped down next to him at the computer with a tired sigh. She bent at the waist the buried her face in her arms against the desk with an additional groan.
"Guess what?"
He felt his heart sink, was she going to say what he thought she was going to say? "What?"
"Well Crash and Samira were talking about some girls night thing after work. Over at Samira's place. I think Mel was gonna go too," she replied.
"O-Oh..." No no no no no no, please--
"Stop freaking," one of her eyes peeked at him through a gap in her arms. "I'm not cancelling on our plans. I told them I'd join another time."
The breath of relief he let out was so heavy and loud that multiple turned around to give him a look, but he didn't care. He had done it. He really had ensured that Trinity would be with him in their apartment tonight. Safe and sound.
On the way home they'd stopped by the nearby convenience store and stacked up on enough chips and candy to make any kid on Halloween jealous. Dennis emptied the bags onto the kitchen bench meanwhile Trinity was sitting on the couch flicking through Netflix. He stared at her a bit too intently, with every second that ticked closer to her 'time of death' he grew increasingly more anxious. What if he hadn't done enough?
She was curled sideways in the corner of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her, the remote balanced loosely in one hand.
"What are you in the mood for?" she asked absentmindedly.
"Uhm, it's not too early for Christmas movies is it?" he called out.
Trinity snorted as he carried two big bowls filled with their purchases into the living room, setting them on the coffee table.
"You really are homesick, huh?"
He forced a smile as he moved to sit beside her "Yeah, I guess."
Dennis let himself sink into the couch, the cushions dipping beneath their combined weight and Trinity threw a blanket over both of their sets of legs without a second thought. The familiar opening credits of How the Grinch Stole Christmas filled the apartment blared from the TV, a shared favourite. He watched her laugh softly at the corny jokes and how her shoulders relaxed she settled further into the couch, one hand lazily dipping into the bowl of BBQ flavoured chips in between of them.
His gaze drifted away from the TV and settled on the digital clock built into the microwave. 8:54PM. Still around a few more hours until...
He looked back before she noticed. Though, her attention remained glued to the screen, every now and then letting out a chuckle that Dennis found himself listening to far more than the dialogue. This was exactly what he craved, the reminiscent sounds of their apartment; a lack of cruel silence.
His leg bounced incessantly beneath the blanket, and his eyes would constantly flick over to the microwave, keeping track of the time. His chest felt tighter as it neared 10PM, even though he knew Trinity was literally sitting right next to him. And the thought hit him that the angry drunk man who murdered Trinity, would he intercept with another person instead? Would someone else's life be taken? He couldn't bare to focus on that. He simply couldn't when he had gone through all this effort to keep the person who mattered to him safe.
Because that was what Trinity deserved. She deserved evenings wasted on terrible Christmas movies and far too much junk food. She deserved to complain about work on Monday mornings. She deserved birthdays and holidays and becoming an attending. She deserved to grow old.
As the end credits of the movie rolled, Trinity got up to stretch when she suddenly gasped.
"Oh!"
She launched herself forward and hurried over to the living room window, taking the blanket with her and planted her palms against the class.
"It's snowing!" she exclaimed with an unmistakable excitement in her voice.
Right...how could he forget? He pushed himself to his feet and joined her by the window and once again, watched the tiny white flakes fall under the yellow glow of the streetlights. The first snowfall of the season, exactly as it had been when he lived this day the first time. He felt her elbow nudge his side and he looked at her.
"C'mon we totally have to build a snowman, just like we did last year. Remember that?"
How could he forget? The photograph of that moment had been something he couldn't let out of his grip for days after her death.
She stepped away from him. "Lets go, you just bought a new coat, right? This is perfect timing."
"No." The word escaped him far sharper than he intended. But he couldn't help it, he was just so desperate, desperate to keep the silence away.
She stopped and swiveled in her spot to face him. "What? Suddenly got a problem with doing that? Because it was all your idea last time."
His heart hammered violently against his ribcage, the anxiety was driving him inside. "You...we...let's do it tomorrow."
Trinity's eyebrows knitted together and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are you sure everything is okay with you?"
"We can build one tomorrow," he repeated, unsure of what else he could say. "I just...can't tonight. Can you please wait until tomorrow?"
She glanced back toward the window where the snow continued to fall, her expression flattened. "I thought maybe--" she cut herself off and mumbled a few curse words under her breath before she suddenly walked right up to him. His breathing hitched as her hands latched onto either one of his shoulders and her eyes intensely stared him down.
"Look Dennis, I don't know what is wrong with you this week. But...I hope you're able to tell me when you're ready. You've almost seemed all freaked out over me and though I don't quite understand why, it means...a lot. So if you don't want to tell me right now I get it, but you don't want me to go outside, do you?"
He shook his head, unable to make his brain cooperate with his mouth. Trinity mouth spread into a thin line and nodded once.
"Okay then. Lets build that snowman in the morning, alright?"
His eyes momentarily drifted past her and landed on the microwave clock again, suddenly hit with so much relief that it read 11:01PM. He had made it past the time those damned police officers knocked on his door.
"Y-Yeah."
Yeah. He had done it. He had effectively utilised this opportunity that the universe gave him to save the most important person in his life. But...for some reason, that peculiar feeling remained.
Because at the end of the day, he was still grieving the loss of someone who was standing right in front of him.