"Whatever happens tomorrow, we'll always have today."
- David Nicholls
The Doctor kept the book. After all these years it was still his most treasured item.
On this same day every year, the Doctor would pull out the tattered book, worn old with age, and flick reminiscently through the pages. He would smile, he would cry, he would sigh as the images flooded back over him, like a wave of warm air. In that moment private only to him, he would be transported back in time; to the sights, smells, tastes and the sweet topic of conversation. It was both his favourite hobby and the single cause for his heartache.
Then, at the end of the day, he would gently place it back in its box and slide it under the wardrobe. Gone, but not forgotten, for another year.
Yes, it was the small things that mattered to the Doctor now. It was the small things he remembered.
And it all started thirty years ago when he met Clara Oswald for the first time.
Chapter One: 23rd November 2003
21 years old
Clara Oswald had heard it all before.
They said that once in your life you would meet someone and it would feel like time itself stood still. You would only talk to them for a few hours and yet it would feel like you'd known them your whole life. Some called it soul mates. It was mainly hopeful wishing that made Clara consider it could be true, but she never fully believed it.
Until she met the Doctor.
She'd seen him around university plenty of times since his circle of friends sometimes overlapped with her group of friends. But they'd never actually talked. Clara always found herself appreciating him from afar; his floppy brown hair that framed his face, his angular jaw and his eyes – his eyes which held a natural sparkle of laughter, as if he was constantly excited by everything he saw.
They were both in their final year of university now, and since they were graduating in the summer and destined to part their separate ways, it seemed a sad revelation to Clara that they hadn't found each other sooner. In fact, they probably wouldn't have started talking tonight if it wasn't for the Doctor accidentally spilling beer all over her in the local pub. Clara was determined to make the most out of her final degree year by doing activities only a student could get away with – going out for a few drinks in the late hours of Tuesday for no other reason than to get drunk. Just as Clara was staring into her lonely drink (Nina had abandoned her half an hour previously in favour of a handsome dark-haired stranger), the Doctor had bumped into her.
Ruining her dress definitely sparked the conversation. He ordered her drink after drink to make up for it, and with the flowing alcohol, the conversation flowed as well. She found out that he was studying Physics and that he came from a wealthy family, but he didn't like his background. Clara could tell from his hunched shoulders and fidgety hands that he was actually quite nervous talking to her, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. Their smiles grew brighter, their laughs more genuine while the conversation lengthened into the small hours of Wednesday morning.
Now it was one o'clock in a cold November setting, and the Doctor and Clara were lying side by side on the grassy hill beside the university, watching the night sky. It had been all his idea – she accepted his offer to walk her home, but during their walk they were side-tracked. A little tipsy, they thought it would be a brilliant idea to trek up the hill and observe the planet from their small space in the universe and philosophise about the future.
It really didn't feel like she only met him a few hours ago. She thought she fully knew him from their deep conversation – his ins and outs, his history, his family and his motivations.
For some reason this made her sad.
"Doctor who?" she whispered as her eyes focused on the smallest star in the sky, barely even there at all with its dull, flickering light.
She thought he sounded confused. "What?" he asked.
Turning her head to the side, the rough grass scratched against her cheek. He pulled away his gaze from the night sky to focus on her face. In the starlight he thought she was practically glowing. He found himself smiling.
"I've just realised – I don't even know your name."
"Oh." He nudged her hand with his. When she accepted it, he shook it firmly, as if he was introducing himself for the first time. "John Smith, at your service. Probably the most boring and unoriginal name out there. I'm sure that was an anti-climax."
Clara laughed and held onto his hand despite the handshake being over. He held onto her tightly, his eyes drifting back to the stars.
"Another thing," she interjected. "Why do people call you the Doctor?"
"It was a private joke between me and my mates. It just kind of stuck." He shrugged modestly. "I fix things. I'm good at fixing stuff."
Clara didn't really know what that meant, but she didn't want to question him further. She could sense there was something he wanted to ask.
"So, what's your plan for next year then? After graduation."
"I don't know," she sighed. "I don't have a career plan. I don't even have a future plan. I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life."
The reality of her words crept over her as the chilly morning air tickled her skin and made her spine shiver. She kept putting off planning her first year out of university because every time she thought of it, a deep aching echo of fear and urgency overtook her senses, making her heart race and her head feel dizzy. Once again she could feel it pricking at her heart, so she removed the focus of the question from her. "What about you? I'm sure you have it all planned out."
His thumb stroked her hand to silently soothe her. "Suppose I do. I'm going travelling."
"Travelling?"
"Yeah. All around the world. I want to see this sky" – he raised their joined hands to point out in front of them – "in a hundred different countries. Just to see what it's like. Hopefully when I come back I'll know what to do with my life."
Clara's nose scrunched up. "You're hopelessly poetic."
He laughed. Flipping over on his side, he leaned on his elbow and propped himself up to stare at her. She didn't look at him this time, and he was glad. He could see all of the individual glittering stars in her glassy brown eyes. It transfixed him. "You study English. I'm sure there's a poet bursting to get out of you too. Or are you jealous?"
"I whole-heartedly bow down to your superior poetic-ness. Is that even a word?"
The Doctor scoffed. "You tell me!"
"Anyway," she said, watching him watch her. "I'd love to go travelling. It's always been my dream. But it's far too expensive, I could never afford it."
"That's a shame. I'm going on my own; I could've used a friend." He broke their eye contact as he felt awkward nerves creeping up on him again. Suddenly he was fascinated with the grass. "If only I knew you sooner."
"Well then," she said, also propping herself onto her elbows to get a better look at him. Their faces were only inches apart. "Get to know me now. Make up for lost time."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. The words were on the tip of his tongue and yet he was struggling to form a sentence. He kept his gaze trained on a strand of her hair which was dancing on its own in the breeze while he repositioned himself to a more comfortable position. Clara waited patiently, a little amused by his hesitance. She could quite easily help him out in this, but she wanted to see him do it by himself.
"Tomorrow," he started, holding her hand in both of his. "Spend the whole day with me tomorrow."
Clara, intending to be difficult, corrected, "I think you mean today. It's past midnight."
"Well, I always class the beginning of a new day after the first light of dawn," he shot back, voice still racked with nerves. "So what's your answer?"
She considered him for a few moments. She pulled herself into a sitting position, directly in front of him, and showed him her brightest grin. "What will we do?"
The Doctor would've laughed in spite of himself – if someone had told him yesterday that today he would ask out Clara Oswald and she would say yes, he never would've believed them. "Anything!" he replied enthusiastically. "Anything and everything. Anywhere and everywhere. Let's pretend, for one whole day, the world is ours."
Clara leaned into him, her eyes feeling heavy and tired. He wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulders and lay back on the grass. She rested her head over his heart and kept her hand on his stomach, silently excited for what was to come. The Doctor held her closer, keeping her warm, and his eyes drifted back to the endless possibilities written in the sky.
"We'll make up for lost time," he promised in a whisper.
Nodding against his warmth, Clara closed her eyes and prepared to dream of tomorrow. "We'll make up for lost time."
Note: Hello, hope you enjoyed the first chapter! The Doctor and Clara's first day together won't be revisited until the very end of the story, which is why this chapter is so short. You might've already noticed by now that the concept of this story is loosely based on the wonderful masterpiece One Day by David Nicholls. But don't worry – other than that it is going to be completely original. Every chapter is going to be set on the same day only a year later, which might not sound interesting now, but trust me, it's going to be good. I don't own Doctor Who, or its characters, and credit must go to Nicholls for his line 'Ten years. Two people. One day.' Reviews, follows and favourites would be so amazing – if people show enough interest, I will upload the next chapter in the next two days. Thank you for reading!
