It started like déjà vu wearing a different outfit.
Hale showed up at the café on the corner of Fourth and Lorne, the one with the cracked window that somehow made it feel more charming than broken. Ivy was already seated by the window, her hair pinned loosely to one side, a cup of mint tea in front of her.
She smiled when she saw him. "You're late."
"Fashionably," Hale replied, pulling out the chair across from her.
The waiter came by. Hale ordered her favorite dish before she even said a word.
Her eyebrows lifted. "Huh. I didn't know you knew I liked that."
He chuckled. "I guessed."
No, he didn't.
He remembered.
The date rolled forward like a smooth reel of film. Ivy talked about a weird dream she had — a hallway of doors that led nowhere. Hale smiled, nodding. She said it with a laugh, brushing it off like nonsense. But Hale's mind snagged on it like a hook in fabric.
"I think it means I should stop watching horror films alone," she joked.
He laughed politely.
But something felt off. Not wrong. Just… off.
She held her fork differently today. She hated basil last time — today she said she loved it.
When they walked out of the café, the wind picked up, and Ivy's hair flew into her face. She laughed, brushing it back.
"I love this weather," she said.
Hale frowned. "You said you hated the cold."
She blinked. "When?"
He hesitated. "Never mind."
They crossed the street together. Their hands almost touched. Almost.
And then—
"Yo, lovebirds!" Barney's voice cracked the air like a baseball bat.
He stood by the bookstore across the street, biting into an ice cream cone. In this weather. Of course.
Hale froze. "Barney?"
Barney smirked. "Déjà-hoe, huh?"
"What?"
Barney winked. "You dating a time traveler or just stuck in a rerun?" Then he took another bite and vanished down the alley like he'd never been there.
Hale turned toward Ivy. "What… did he just say?"
She blinked. "Something about reruns?"
But Hale wasn't listening anymore. His pulse spiked. His stomach dropped.
Barney was with Ivy last time.
Right?
He couldn't remember.
Or… he remembered too many versions.
He walked Ivy to the bus stop. She leaned in to hug him, and he hugged her back stiffly.
She waved as the bus pulled away.
And Hale stood frozen.
She'd said the same thing at the same time.
The breeze picked up. The same song played from the passing car stereo.
He clenched his fists. "What the hell is going on?"
He ran home. Slammed the door. Dropped his bag. Ripped open his sketchbook.
A new page.
He didn't draw it. Not this time.
A spiral. A name. A fractured face.
And then—
He screamed.
Loud.
Raw.
From somewhere deep, where fear didn't wear a mask.
His voice echoed through the empty house.
And the sketchbook flipped itself shut.