Chapter Text
Hope is sixteen years-old when her parents whisk her away to Los Angeles. In the middle of the school year. She's not angry with them per se, they've moved often enough to sidestep that entirely. She's just...resigned.
She walks into her first class and she can feel people's eyes on her, even though she'd tried to get there early. She takes a seat in the back and pulls out a book to read. When class finally starts, the teacher introduces Hope without preamble, who only gives a hollow wave in return, before they dive right into pre-calculus. Hope notes how one girl's gaze pauses on her curiously before turning to the front of the class.
Hope sees her again in English. The girl gives a cursory glance of the room before plopping down into a seat right behind Hope. She expects the girl to tap her on the shoulder and talk to her. And Hope really doesn't want this, content to finish this year as quickly and with as little interaction as possible. But the girl doesn't. In fact, Hope forgets about her until the end of class. When Hope is putting away her things, the girl is standing in the aisle, near the top corner of Hope's desk. Hope straightens, waiting.
"I'm Annabelle. Come sit with me at lunch," she says.
Hope frowns. "I don't need your like, pity or anything."
"I wasn't giving you any," the girl, Annabelle, says with a shrug. "And I wasn't asking. Sit with me," she repeats over her shoulder as she walks away. Hope doesn't move for a moment, genuinely confused, before sighing and going to her next class.
Hope has a book tucked under her lunch tray. She would much rather sit alone and read. But she sees Annabelle at a table already, who meets her gaze with a neutral expression before going back to her food. Hope can't explain it but she finds herself making her way over and sitting down carefully across from Annabelle. There are two other boys a couple of seats away as well: Tanner and another boy whose name Hope has already forgotten.
"Hey! New girl! I'm Tanner, what's your name?" he asks loudly and his friend leans over eagerly, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Is there anyone here that you wanna -"
Hope scowls but before she can say anything Annabelle beats her to it.
"Don't be a dick, dick splinter," Annabelle interrupts coolly. "I told her to sit here so people wouldn't bug her. Not so you could whip out your unwashed penis at the only girl who's been blessed enough not to have seen it."
The other boy holds up a hand to his chest in mock hurt as Tanner snickers next to him. Tanner tosses a straw at him and they resume whatever game they had been playing.
Hope gives Annabelle a small smile, who only gives her a slight shrug in return.
"My name's Hope," Hope tells her softly. Annabelle nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. Hope opens her book tentatively at first but Annabelle doesn't seem interested in starting a conversation with her as she thumbs passively through her phone. Hope thinks that Annabelle will try to talk to her at one point or another but she never does. A companionable silence sits between them.
A bell tolls some twenty minutes later and Hope looks up from her book just in time to see Annabelle toss both of their lunch trays into a nearby trashcan.
"Warning bell," Annabelle informs her as Hope slips her bookmark into its place. "What's your next class?"
"World history."
"Same. Walk together?" Annabelle rises.
Hope notices that it's a question this time. And she doesn't know why but she feels this is a progression of sorts. Hope stands as well and they walk towards their class in silence again.
Hope doesn't always know what to say and she's been labelled many things in the past for it. Annabelle doesn't seem to mind Hope's silences and in fact, seems quite comfortable in them. Despite herself, Hope is very grateful for Annabelle. Annabelle catches her eye then and offers Hope a small grin as if she knows.
---
A week later, Hope hears her before she sees her and her heart stops.
"I liked the canal cruise," says the girl thoughtfully.
Hope drops everything she's holding and turns so suddenly towards the voice, heart in her throat, that Annabelle jumps.
"I'm glad someone did, because someone else was hurling over the edge," another girl grumbles.
"Yeah, that wasn't a good look. And I know you wanted to spend more time at the Van Gogh Museum, Molly," the first girl says sympathetically, throwing an arm around the second girl, Molly. "We'll go back one day and do it all over again but better."
Hope watches hungrily as the pair walks by, tears pinpricking the corners of her eyes because it has been decades since she'd last seen her.
"You bet your ass we'll do it better. We'll go to the Red Light District and we'll find you a..." They're too far away to hear but Hope continues to watch their receding figures until she can't see them any longer even when she cranes her neck.
"Dude, what was that about?" Annabelle asks, kneeling to pick up Hope's papers and books. Hope follows suit but doesn't say anything as she tries to regain her breath, her heart thumping loudly in her chest.
Annabelle catches sight of Hope's face and touches the sleeve of her jacket. "Hope?"
"Sorry," Hope mutters, averting her gaze as she gathers her papers. "I just didn't really sleep last night and it's fucking me up."
Hope can tell that Annabelle doesn't believe her but Annabelle remains quiet, handing the rest of Hope's stuff to her. As much as Annabelle has been a great friend this past week, it has still only been a week and Hope doesn't think she's quite ready for the truth. Not yet, Hope thinks.
"Who was that girl?" Hope asks, nodding in the girls' general direction. She doesn't even try to be nonchalant, doesn't try to hide the longing in her voice.
"Molly Davidson?" Annabelle replies.
Hope shakes her head. "The other girl."
"Amy Antsler?"
"Amy," Hope repeats softly as if to herself, testing the name out on her tongue. That's her name in this life and it feels like the first sip of water after a drought. Annabelle regards her for a moment.
"Yes, Amy. She's kind of quiet but she's nice, I've never heard her say anything mean about anyone. She's one of the smartest girls in our class, rivaling Molly. Some people say she and Molly are dating..." Annabelle trails off, moving to stand. Hope looks at her sharply as she does the same.
"Is she?" Hope swallows, conflicted by the fact that Amy may be attracted to girls but may also already be spoken for.
"She hasn't said, but she hasn't really dated around either. She's always with Molly." Annabelle shrugs. Hope sees that Annabelle wants to ask more questions, even opens her mouth to say something more, but stops when she sees the almost pleading look in Hope's eyes. Annabelle raises her brow and Hope nods curtly.
We'll talk about it next time. And that seems to be enough for now. Hope feels a surge of gratitude that Annabelle always, without question, allows Hope her silences.
They part ways and Hope proceeds throughout the day in a daze, except when she sees Amy in two of her classes. In those classes, Hope openly stares. Annabelle is also there, in one of them and she strategically drops her pencil when their teacher looks their way, giving Hope time to school her expression into one of attentiveness.
But in the other class, Annabelle isn't there to cover for Hope and the teacher scolds her within the first ten minutes. And everyone is whipping around in their seats to look at her, including Amy. Except Hope only sees Amy, sees the way her muscles stretch along the long column of her throat as she turns her head, the way her brow lifts almost imperceptibly when she finds that she doesn't recognize Hope. The way, even from this great distance, Amy's eyes are impossibly green and impossibly kind. Hope grips the desk in a feeble attempt to stay grounded as she mumbles an apology.
When the bell rings, Hope flies out of the classroom and goes straight home. Hope doesn't meet her that day. She is both dismayed and relieved by this.
---
When Hope sees Amy for the second time, less than six feet away from her, it feels like the first and she is overwhelmed without the disordered protection of students hurrying past them. So, Hope ducks away and dry heaves over the side of the bleachers. She's recovering herself when she feels an arm at her elbow. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees that it's not Annabelle.
"Hope?" Amy asks with a concerned tilt in her head, kneeling in front of her. Hope nods when her voice fails her. "Are you okay?" Amy continues hesitantly. Hope nods again, entranced by her frowning lips, the freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks.
Suddenly, Hope falls through the time-loop of her memories and she remembers the vague smell of funnel cake. Maybe they've been to a fair before? As Hope’s breathing becomes normal, Amy gives Hope a slow grin that makes her heart ache.
"I'm Amy, by the way, I don't think we've officially met." Amy pauses and leans towards Hope who forces herself to remain still. "Crowds can sometimes make me nervous too," Amy whispers almost conspiratorially.
Hope wants to cry because it's her, it's finally her. They're on the same continent. They speak the same language. It's goddamn poetic. Before Hope can reply, Annabelle arrives at the bottom of the bleachers, takes one look at her face, and makes a beeline towards her.
"Feel better, Hope," Amy says, rising and turning to Annabelle when she gets to them.
"Let me know if you need anything. I might have it in my fanny pack." Amy pats it securely before making her way back to her spot where Molly has just arrived with nachos.
Annabelle drops down next to Hope, staring in Amy's general direction with something between a mix of awe and disbelief. Hope imagines her own expression is more or less the same. Probably more, she thinks.
"That's the girl you've chosen to love," Annabelle tells her, shaking her head. Hope wants to tell her that it isn't really a choice. It's just the only thing that matters. That she has been chasing Amy across centuries and in each and every one of them, Hope has felt an emptiness that doesn't leave until she finds Amy. That she finally feels full after so many lifetimes without Amy. That seeing Amy now, in the flesh, makes Hope feel so alive that she may burst at the seams.
Annabelle glances in Amy's and Molly's direction before offering Hope her water bottle. Hope takes it and Annabelle gives her a small, defeated smile. Annabelle may not have centuries tucked into her back pocket, but Hope suspects she understands a little of it anyway.
Towards the middle of their sophomore year, Amy comes out. It's also the first time Hope sees Amy freeze with a tentative smile on her lips when she sees Ryan walk into school.
"It's just a school-girl crush, Hope," Annabelle tells her, her tone light and teasing. And Hope doesn't know if she's referring to Amy's crush or Hope's. She desperately wishes that Annabelle is right but she has a sneaking suspicion that she isn't.
Hope chances one last look at Amy, who watches Ryan's receding figure with an infatuated sigh. Hope's stomach twists at the sight. And even though everything in Hope protests against it, Hope decides that she will not touch Amy Antsler.
---
But Hope can talk to her.
Right?
If Hope has to watch the way Amy falls over herself every time she interacts with Ryan, then surely the universe won't punish Hope for talking to her. Having to watch her want someone else is punishment enough, Hope thinks sourly. And sure, sometimes Hope's comments to Amy could be considered...biting. But it's not all the time, Hope reasons. She can't help but feel a little bitter at the fact that Amy doesn't seem to recognize their inexorable pull towards each other. Ryan seems to overshadow this pull.
"Dude, fix your face," Annabelle tells her. "I know Ryan stands between you and your epic lesbian romance but she's chill. And she's literally just standing there."
Hope tears her gaze away from Ryan and glowers at Annabelle.
"Have a thing for Ryan now?"
"You wish," Annabelle responds evenly.
"It sure as hell would make my life a lot easier," Hope retorts. She looks sideways at Annabelle. "But it's Molly you love."
Annabelle stills.
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Annabelle tells her slowly, eyes narrow and ambushed.
Hope rolls her eyes. "Please. I'm probably the only one who understands. We're practically in the same shitty boat."
They stare at each other before Annabelle looks away for a moment, arms folded.
"It's a crush. It was supposed to go away," Annabelle mumbles. "You can't tell anyone."
"Haven't for a year."
Annabelle blows out a breath as she reaches for her books and shuts her locker.
"Looks like you and I are done for, huh?" Annabelle gives her a small, grim smile.
Hope snorts. "You have no idea."
So, perhaps it comes out a little harsher than usual when Hope teases Amy about getting Ms. Fine's phone number. But Hope has to endure the knowledge that she has been spinning for lifetimes on end searching for Amy, and actually, finally finds her. Only to be completely ignored by her. And perhaps Hope’s remarks are also pointed at Molly, who unwittingly has had her vice-like grip on Annabelle for years. All of it is a form of catharsis. An outlet, Hope thinks.
If she’s being honest, she simply wants an opportunity to be seen by Amy, to make her smile. Even if she has to take it away in the same breath.
---
“Wait, shut the fuck up for a bit, so Amy is your soulmate?” Annabelle asks with wide eyes.
Hope takes the joint from her and takes a long drag.
“I don’t really call it that. Because with each new life, we’re different people. But there’s this unwavering thread of something, in her and in me, in which we are inextricably linked,” Hope says.
They’re at Nick’s party, sitting near the edge of the pool. Hope hadn’t meant to tell Annabelle the truth. But Annabelle had asked about Amy, had asked why Hope has never seemed to want anyone else. Hope had answered sincerely, without thinking. She figures now there isn’t much harm in being honest; it doesn’t much matter to her if Annabelle believes her and they’re about to graduate tomorrow anyway.
Annabelle scrutinizes her for a moment, and Hope speculates that she’s trying to decide whether Hope is being truthful.
“Do you remember her from before?” Annabelle asks finally. She takes the joint back.
Hope looks down at her fidgeting hands.
“She’s pretty much the only thing I remember," Hope admits. "But the memories are only these vague pockets of things. It’s kind of like déjà vu but with bits and pieces of clarity, all of them linked to her. Like once I heard her laugh at school. And it reminded me of seagulls cawing and waves crashing. So, I guess we've been together on a beach at some point. And we must have also been to a carnival once, because I remember being at the top of the Ferris wheel with her. She was blonde then. But her smile’s the same.” Hope feels a warmth spread through her at the thought.
"How do you know it's her when you find her? Does your vulva or vagina glow or something?" Annabelle asks cheekily.
"God, you're such an ass. I genuinely don't know why we're friends sometimes," Hope replies as they giggle. But when their laughter subsides, Hope sees the curiosity in Annabelle's eyes and considers her question for a moment.
"I don't really know how to describe it when I find her," Hope says, her voice faraway. "In every lifetime without her, I just feel like I'm falling or tumbling endlessly and relentlessly. Or it's like you come home one day and everything in your bedroom has shifted four inches to the left, and it keeps on changing every time you come home." Hope pauses. "And then I see her, finally find her. And I feel caught and I know which way is up and which way is down. I feel like I can navigate my room with every one of my senses dulled, even after years have passed. And it's perfect, like the entire world is rushing to align itself between us."
They're quiet for a moment, and Hope watches the way the pool light dances across Annabelle's face, her expression pensive.
“Well, shit, now I goddamn hate Ryan too,” Annabelle says and Hope laughs.
“The thing is, dude, I don’t hate her. I really want to, but I don’t. Ryan makes her smile.” Hope looks up at the night sky before turning back. “These last few times, I hadn’t been able to find her for whatever reason. So, I’m just lucky that we get to exist at the same time. I’m just happy I get to see her smile.”
Hope expects Annabelle to tease her for being all sappy and broody and everything Hope doesn’t allow herself to be at school. But Annabelle doesn’t, instead looks down at the water thoughtfully.
“You know, you could have more if you wanted,” Annabelle says after awhile. Hope blinks.
“What?”
“You could be with her. I mean, yeah, you were kind of a dick to her these last couple of years but she’s gay and you’re whatever you are.”
“I don’t think she looks at me like that,” Hope says somewhat softly. “I don’t think I’m what she wants.”
“Shut the fuck up, you’re so conventionally attractive, it’s disgusting,” Annabelle replies, rolling her eyes before taking a puff from the joint and tossing it into a nearby cup.
“I’m sorry, were you trying to tell me something encouraging or was that your way of coming onto me?”
“I’ll push your ass into this pool, I swear to God, Hope,” Annabelle threatens but her eyes are shining and Hope laughs again. “I’m just saying you should stop being a little pansy bitch and go after your girl. At least let her know you don’t hate her guts and would much rather just like, rearrange them,” Annabelle continues with a crooked grin.
“Inappropriate,” Hope responds, fighting a smile. “And anyway, I could say the same to you.”
Hope shoots her a significant look.
Annabelle shrugs. “It’s like you said, I’m just happy to see her smile.”
Hope doesn’t say anything for moment as she leans down and touches her hand to the water. The water seems to spark something in her, and she looks up at Annabelle abruptly as an idea takes root.
“Let’s try tonight. Let’s be a little reckless. Let’s just try to go after Molly and Amy,” Hope whispers earnestly. She feels almost giddy at the prospect. Annabelle raises her brow in astonishment but Hope continues. “What do we have to lose? High school’s almost over anyway. If it goes badly, we’ll never see them again.”
“I very much may see Molly again, we’re going to the same college," Annabelle points out.
“Annabelle,” Hope says in exasperation.
“Alright, alright,” Annabelle concedes. “Let’s try.”
Hope grins and reaches for her cup, offering it first to Annabelle.
Annabelle shakes her head. “I’m DD, remember?”
Hope shrugs and drains the cup quickly. They both push themselves to their feet.
“Same shitty boat?” Hope asks, holding out her fist.
“Same shitty boat,” Annabelle echoes with a half-grin, touching her fist to Hope’s.
---
Hope finally abandons her rule. In a bathroom at Nick’s aunt’s house. Probably discarded among her jacket and t-shirt if she had to hazard a guess. It was a stupid rule. Amy’s kissing her, and Hope can’t get enough and why did she make that rule again?
She’s touching Amy Antsler, who takes off her dress quickly and Hope can only bite her lip and stare, awestruck and greedy. Just as quickly, Amy hovers over her, lips on Hope’s again, touching Hope everywhere and Hope just wants more and more and more because this is everything she’s ever wanted.
And then Amy…surprises her. It’s not bad, just unexpected and a little uncomfortable. And then there’s the vomit. As quickly as everything had started, it begins to plummet and Amy is gone with the sound of a door snapping shut.
Hope feels a twinge of regret as she steps out of the shower and throws her clothes on. But just as she’s about to leave, she sees Amy’s underwear and she can’t help the smile that makes its way onto her lips. She bends down and tucks it into her pocket.
There is a new, determined fire in Hope’s abdomen as she slips quietly out of the bathroom. Hope knows that every fiber of her being belongs to Amy. If the universe or Amy think that Hope is stopping here, then they’re both in for it. Because Hope has been chasing Amy across timelines, and it’s only fitting that Hope chase her in this one.