dedication: to the chunk of the fandom with the same problem as me—not knowing where to direct their twelve/lisa feels toward.
pairing: somewhat twelve/lisa (which I hear people calling hisalisa?)
a/n: written on 1/8/14 because this is based on the episode 5 preview linked on my profile since it hasn't aired yet according to this time stamp (plus me not realising what Twelve says in the balcony snippet until after writing this). wished i could make clever riddles based on the oedipus mythos, but can't. been listening to "is" with pop etc from the znt soundtrack the whole time. cross-posted from ao3 and tumblr. hope this worked out okay.
edit: 7/8/14 - so episode 5 is out now and I can put this under canon!au because this was written before the episode came out.
"Don't worry. I won't get too involved."
But he does and now there's Lisa sleeping on their couch. One glare from Nine and he can see Nine's thoughts blur between "I told you so" and "Get rid of her."
Twelve sets her bag down and can't help but steal her phone from her pocket because it's her fault for fainting on them. No pass code required makes it all the more easy to access her phone records of the past few hours alone.
28 missed calls. All from "Mom."
She's lucky to have a worried mom, Twelve thinks before remembering she ran away from home in the first place. He leans against the couch, thinking of the best time window to take her on his bike and send her home. But tomorrow is his turn to plant the next bomb and he sighs at the thought of another disapproved look from Nine. Just when he got Nine to open up more too.
Twelve brushes his fingers through his curls as he steals one last look at Lisa. Her chest rises and compresses slowly. Was it her health or was the day too overwhelming?
She'll have to go home eventually.
His hand reaches to brush the bangs off her face, but flinches back. What are you doing? He catches himself staring at her for too long and gets up, recording both Lisa's and her mom's numbers in his own phone just in case.
Because he knows it will happen some day soon, the police storming the stairs to their apartment to find traces of two ghosts who used to live there. A home with a clean kitchen, spotless couches and rugs, a bedroom with a laptop sitting on an empty corner table as their next riddle to the police.
But he wonders what if they find something as mundane as a girl's strand of hair or a dropped cellphone.
Traces of a girl he should've never brought home.
They'll need to find a second place eventually.
Backup plans are always good, right? Twelve hums to himself as he leans over the balcony rails and watch the cars down below. He smiles when he hears footsteps approach him from behind.
"Your mom's pretty worried, you know."
Lisa stays silent, and Twelve wonders how long Nine will let him keep her here. Down below, the occasional police car drives by where he parks his motorcycle. How long will it be till Lisa's mother files a missing person's report, he wonders. But then again, the police are too busy chasing after Nine and him to find the next bomb. The next opportunity to catch them despite how funny it is to watch them try. It's almost time to set it up anyway.
He walks away from the balcony toward where Lisa remains standing. "I'll be back soon," he says, "so stay here. Can't risk having you wander around anyway." As he passes her, the faint scent of soap brushes by and he breathes it in.
"Hisami," she finally says.
He pauses. A few seconds drift in the space between them before she speaks again.
"Thank you."
Twelve scoffs. "I mean it though." Hands in his pockets, he turns his head to meet her gaze. He steels his voice. "Don't get in our way."
Watching her swallow and stiffen is enough for him to smile and continue his way out, but even he has to remind himself that Lisa's only a temporary setback. He'll send her back home soon where he can keep an eye from a distance. Unless she runs away again. Then he doesn't know if he'll be there to look after her again.
Not that he should be in the first place.
But if he doesn't, she'll wander around at night again and he'll have to keep an eye on her GPS again and he'll need to find her before the police or rapers do again and they'll ride off on his motorcycle again under mask of night lights.
Where they try to outrun police on a road of matches begging to burn.
Where they laugh their worries away in the rush of wind.
Where they forget how temporary time is.
Twelve still hasn't caught his breath from all the running he did today. The bomb's been set and he only needs to wait for Nine's cue, but with the couple of police that's been chasing him, even he admits that was a close call.
He only wishes to return home and flop on the couch. However when he opens the door, the first sight to welcome him back is smoke filling the hallway.
"Nine?" he yells out, racing inside. Did a fire break out? Did something trigger Nine's dreams again? Did Lisa compromise their hideout position?
Twelve frantically searches left and right once he reaches the living room, but finds the culprit in the next few seconds. Within the smoke, he catches the smell of meat and garlic, the sounds of sizzling vegetables, and the voice of a grinning Lisa holding a pan and spatula.
"Welcome back. Sorry about the mess," she adds with a shaky chuckle. "I didn't find much in your fridge, but I used all your leftovers to make stir fry."
Twelve sighs, but thanks whatever force out there for not throwing the worst scenario their way. "Lisa, the exhaust hood above the stove does have an on button, you know."
"Huh?" A slight gasp and she's off searching for the button, her hand feeling around the metal vent.
He laughs, walking up to her. Once he stands only an inch apart, he reaches up beside Lisa's hand and turns a small dial on the vent. The smoke soon swirls in and fades from the air, Twelve grateful Nine didn't see any of this.
"Where is Arata anyway?" A name he admits he'll never get used to calling Nine, but one Lisa's world always will see him as.
"He's still in his bedroom. Do you want me to—"
"No, it's fine." Good girl. So long as she keeps her distance, he can pretend Nine is okay with this. "Can I try some?"
But he doesn't bother waiting for her answer before stealing the spatula from her and swiping some beef and string beans off the pan. So this is what home cooking tastes like. Warm, savoury on his tongue, everything he never had.
"It's missing something though."
Lisa scoops up a bite for herself, brows scrunching together. "Like what?"
Twelve scavenges through the cabinets above, pulling out a bottle of cheap vodka Nine had stored for emergency use only. He smirks. "Like this!" And he pours some of the vodka into the frying pan.
Soon it bursts in flames and Lisa yelps as she stumbles back. Twelve himself doubles back laughing. He probably ruined lunch doing that, but her gasps and panicked attempts to fan away the flames with her hands are worth it.
He wonders if one day Lisa will be able to appreciate what Nine and he do. If one day he can take her to the best view of a musical clock in a Shibuya fountain and listen to it chime. Then once its song finishes, he'll turn to her with arms spread wide to present its finale.
The mother Docomo clock tower exploding in the background.
But like any random stranger, she asks a question every person in Tokyo must be wondering.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why?" Explode Tokyo? Let her be an accomplice? Kidnap her?
A feeling tells him she means everything, so Twelve glances her way, gaze sharp as he darkens his voice. "You shouldn't ask questions you'll regret hearing the answer to."
Her eyes drift downwards, hands fumbling amongst themselves, but her shaky voice still repeats: "Why?"
Why is the most dangerous question because that means an attack. An attempt to have him explain himself to a stranger that has no reason to know. No need to involve herself in a life he should've never shoved her way. No time to prevent the day they met because she already stole his attention without a word.
"Maybe the same reason why you ran away from home?"
And Lisa freezes. Why only comes in a double-edged variety. Good thing Twelve's reasons are far from being the same as Lisa's, so he hopes.
Though he was never supposed to add her to the list of whys to begin with.
Because he can tell she doesn't usually smile. Not like the way she did when she watched both him and Nine eat her cooking, and actually see Nine content as he ate silently because of how good it tastes to pretend they're a family.
Or when the adrenaline of racing on his bike can overtake them both while he waits for the day she'll be brave enough to scream aloud despite how bad an idea that'll be for hiding from police.
And then there's how Twelve doesn't mind the thought of seeing her hair wet because of how droplets of water made her glow in the light. How they will use the same soap only for summer to smell nicer on her than him.
How he assumes Lisa and he make a silent agreement that she can stay with them for a while so long as she doesn't interfere with their work.
But Twelve still has Nine to consider. Nine stares at him from the couch, elbows on his knees and chin resting on threaded fingers.
"She should've been gone by now."
Twelve glances away. "I know."
Yet Twelve still thinks it's safer to keep her here. They both can watch her movements, she won't need to return home to whatever she ran away from, and the police won't find her either.
But Nine adds, "Tonight."
And Twelve catches someone shuffling behind the corner in front of him. He walks over to the wall and looms over the corner, spotting a sunken Lisa sitting on the floor clutching her cellphone close.
More missed calls cover the phone log.
"There are better places to sit than the floor, you know."
Lisa looks away.
He doesn't bother asking. He only holds out a hand waiting for her to take it. Her bag's already packed beside her anyway. She never meets his gaze when she reaches for him. Then Twelve pulls her up and leads her out the door.
Nine's right, after all.
Can't keep her here forever.
Lisa stays silent during the bike ride toward her place, and Twelve feels her clutch his shirt. Feels the way her fingers shake as she holds on. Feels her cheek heat his back, her hair brush his neck. Not even the star-studded night air cools them off as they zoom by.
Where's the girl who spilled out a mess of regrets to him? The girl who laughed with him that one night on his bike when she asked if he wants to destroy the world, when he laughed for completely different reasons she did? Instead, he carries limp luggage on his back the entire way.
Only a few minutes more and it'll all be over.
They soon park in front of her apartment building, Twelve with both hands on his bike handles, waiting for Lisa to get off so he can ride away and leave her there. Yet Lisa remains seated. She stares up at the window where her mom must be.
"Welcome back home, Lisa."
She keeps silent. So that's how she's gonna play it, huh? He puffs out a breath. They don't have all day. He pulls out his phone, ready to dial the number he found on Lisa's cell.
But Lisa catches on and clutches his shirt. "Please." Her voice wavers. "Please don't send me back just yet."
"We can't—"
"Please," she says again, cutting him off. Twelve turns around and sees Lisa straighten up, staring back. Her fingers still held his shirt, but he's tempted to take her hand and walk her to the door himself. But the way her lips quiver and her eyes glisten from almost-tears. "For a little while longer," she mutters.
He catches a breath and sighs, rubbing his neck. It's not like she's done much so far though, right? For some reason, he can't help but laugh seeing Lisa's face look like a bruised baby.
Hearing him laugh, Lisa pales slightly, but Twelve shrugs it aside. He'll have to pay for it once he faces Nine again, but the girl is back. That girl who once leapt out of a building so he can catch her, who once followed him into the busy streets only for him to threaten her, who once told him her wish to escape and rode off with him.
Who once begged to live and did.
"Okay."
Lisa's eyes widen. "Huh?"
How many more reactions will he get to see from her, he wonders.
"Okay," he says again. Twelve only gives her a half-smile, starting up the bike engine, and Lisa's face alights into a growing grin. She wraps her arms around him once more, her warmth and gentle heartbeats pulsing across his skin. Twelve faces forward.
One more day of stir fry should be okay, Twelve muses to himself, a smile creeping up.
They ride off.