A/N: I'm surprised no-ones asked where Layton was!! Did you figure he was at work (if you did, I congratulate you. I'd love it if you loved this fiction)? Or did you just forget about him? XD Not much happened in the last chapter, I'm kinda annoyed by it now... *is annoyed at self* Anyway, Luke doesn't seem like the sort of person who is friends with just boys, in my opinion, so I gave him some gal pals other than Flora (basically, my OC's just with different names and altered pasts!). This chapter is clogged up with memories, but not all chapter's will have as many. There will be about two or three chapters with no memories in whatsoever!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Professor Layton, or the rest of the games (or movies ;D ). I don't own anything. Apart from this chair... Yay, it swivels!
CLAIMER!: I own this chair, Olivia, Autumn, Letty, Alfie and Mrs. Millare!
Memories
Chapter III ~ Bed Making for Beginners
Even during her dying days...
...She was still able to smile...
...Even though she couldn't speak...
...And then she was gone...
...Forever...
. . .
Flora groaned as the phone rang. Again. It had been ringing uncontrollably for the past few days, and she was getting sick of it. It didn't help that Layton was struggling with the phone bills.
Luke looked over at Flora, as if to say: Go on. Answer it. I'm not going to get it.
Flora pouted at him and quickly picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Luke's home, is he not? I will be around shortly." said a slow, depressing sort of voice. Then the person hung up.
Flora froze and turned to Luke. "I think one of your friends are coming."
. . .
The girl looked... pretty and... what was the word? Unique? Different? More like saddening and Gothic. Her skin was pale as if she was wearing the cheap powder Mrs. Triton wore, and her dress was black and had lace and netting for sleeves. However, the first noticeable thing about the girl was that a narrow piece of cloth was tied over her eyes.
The girl tilted her head to the side and took off the cloth. Her eyes were as white and cold as clouds and looked as if they were filled with clouds, and didn't move at all.
The rest of the primary children stared at her, not even daring to swing their bags in the sight of the witch. Janet glided over and tugged the new girl's cardigan. "You're not wearing school uniform, I'm telling the teacher on yoouu!"
The girl furrowed her brow. "But I don't have the uniform yet."
"Why are your eyes so cloudy?" asked Bill.
Luke watched from the school gate with Autumn, who couldn't go school because she lived by herself. The children cackled like kookaburra's as they teased the new girl.
"Why are they making fun of her," Autumn growled under the breath. "She's obviously blind. The bastards."
Luke took a glance at his friend and at the girl. "Can she be our friend?"
Autumn smiled. "You're still a good boy, aren't ya?"
Luke shrugged.
"Munchkin, you are a good boy. You have to be with a family like yours. Anyways, you don't need permission to make friends."
"Romeo and Juliet did."
"Only because they were lovers who shagged each other senseless like rabbits."
Luke stared at the air blankly. Did that mean they ate carrots like rabbits...? "You never even read Romeo and Juliet!"
"Oh, and you have?"
"We read it in school."
"Was it nice?"
"It reminded me of the story when the knight goes the save the princess but dies trying."
"So it's real?"
"It's made up, but it sounds real."
"Sounds boring." muttered Autumn, slouching on the iron wrought gate.
"It really was." agreed Luke.
Autumn laughed. "Hey! You, girl! Come 'ere!"
The girl twisted her neck and stared in the direct the voices came from, and step by step, approached Luke and Autumn. "Is there anything I can be your assistance of?"
Luke and Autumn exchanged looks with each other, smirking. Autumn whispered something into Luke's ear, but Luke only laughed at her and asked a different question instead.
"Why do you wear the blindfold?"
The girl turned away slightly, rubbing her eye. "Because if I don't, I can sense peoples thoughts."
"So your reading our minds?!" Autumn snapped. "You might know something personal!"
The girl's eye twitched. "And that's why I wear the bandage."
Luke grinned. "Read my mind! Read my mind!"
"You are acting as if it is a good thing." the girl stated.
"Isn't it?"
"It is a terrible thing. The voices echo around your head, some are mere thoughts on what dinner shall be, overs can be disturbing and make you want to leave the world for what it is worth."
There was a small silence.
"...So can you tell the future?"
"Don't be stupid."
"So you can only read thoughts?"
"Yes," the girl murmured as she tied the cloth around her eyes. "I am Olivia by the way, it is very nice to meet you, Luke, Autumn."
The two children gasped and gawked at Olivia, clapping their hands. Olivia smiled to herself. Out of all the people, why didn't these two shun her? Why did they act as if it were nothing? Why? Why? Why? She felt herself being drenched with love, even though she only met Luke and Autumn five minutes ago. It was a strange, yet fulfilling feeling.
. . .
Layton parked the lovingly named Laytonmobile on the driveway and made his way to the house. Work had been long and tiring, so he was glad that he was home. A certain pupil had been chatting through the whole lecture, forcing him to have a chat with Layton about his behaviour. Honestly, it was like teaching a primary school student.
"Layton! Hey! Layton, looky over here!"
Layton froze, just about to open the door. His hand was hoovering over the handle. Oh god, not--
"Laaaaytoon!!"
He let out a desperate sigh as he turned around. "Hello Autumn, Olivia. It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?"
"Hershel." Olivia greeted blankly.
The tall, lanky brunette grinned. "I know, the weather's wonderful!"
Layton looked at Autumn's face. "Another fight, I see?"
Autumn touched swollen bruise around her eye and giggled. "Only a little one."
He turned to Olivia. "And I see you're not wearing the cloth."
Olivia's black hair twisted and curled itself in the air, even though there was no apparent breeze. "I sensed that I would not need it for this day. In any case, it is in my pocket for we may got for a walk." She glided past Layton and knocked on the door, leaving a two-second pause in between.
Flora opened the door and let them all inside. The two girls were incredibly happy to see Luke. So very happy, that happy isn't good enough to describe their happiness. A simile perhaps? They were happy like two girls who just saw their first ever friend.
Autumn and Olivia swiftly hugged him, questioned him why he wasn't talking, and hugged him even more when he held up a piece of paper saying 'I forgot how to talk'.
"How do you forget how to talk, idiot?!" Autumn joked, punching Luke's shoulder.
"He is shocked, that is all." said Olivia, hugging his arm.
Flora smiled, feeling slightly jealous. Her friends didn't love her and care for her as much as those two. But then again, Luke had claimed that because she was his friend, Autumn and Olivia were also her friends, who had agreed quickly to the statement. "I'll go make some cakes!"
. . .
Luke ran along the street, clutching as many newspapers as he could carry. It was raining cats and dogs, he tried not to get the papers wet by stuffing some under his jumper. The newsagent he worked for didn't have any bags to put the London Times in, so he had to thrust some in his little leather satchel and carry the rest. He got paid five pounds a week, and added the tips he got from the kind old ladies. It wasn't much, but it wasn't like he was going to buy houses and diamonds. Five pounds actually seemed quite a lot to him.
He took out a scrunched up list from his pocket. On one side it had what houses to go to, on the other side was the weekly shopping he had to do in the market:
Apples
Cabbage
Beans
Pork Hind
Tomatoes
Sprouting Broc
Onions
He didn't know why he looked at the list. He could repeat it again and again without looking, yet he still revised it. Oh well, better safe than sorry. He stuffed the list back in his pocket and ran round the corner. Something crashed right into him-- or he crashed right into something-- and he fell on the hard pavement. His knee stung and something kicked his side furiously. Luke peeked upwards, stiffly.
"Watch it you bastard! Or I'll smash your face in!" thundered the tall girl, kicking him again, only this time it was much harder. She bent down and pulled off his satchel, breaking the strap, before running back around the corner.
Luke lay on the ground whimpering for a couple of moments, recovering from the shock. The ground was horribly wet, hence his clothes also being horribly wet. One of his ribs let out a sharp pain every time he breathed in and out. He curled up in a ball, on his side, and breathed slowly. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force off the pain. His body shook violently as he took a breath out. The papers had fell around him, but delivering papers wasn't going to help him. A man shouted a word, however Luke was too busy trying to stop the pain to listen.
Fast-paced footsteps were starting to make their way towards Luke. Perhaps this person was going to help him? Or maybe it's one of the people his mother had warned him about? He clutched his body and yelped. All the panicking about the footsteps made him breathe faster. The shoe-to-pavement sound was louder, Luke let out a moan and lay still.
"Luke, my boy, what are you doing on the floor?"
Luke sighed in relief, followed by a groan in pain as he tensed again. Layton stared at the boy, bewildered. "Luke, are you alright?"
Luke shook his head and curled up even tighter, shaking.
"Your knee is bleeding, did you trip?"
Luke nodded sluggishly. "P-p-profess-hn!-sor, it-it hurts w-when I bre-uugh-breath"
Layton frowned and knelt beside the boy. "Luke, you'll have to stretch out. I can't see what's wrong with you if you're all screwed up like that."
Luke recoiled one of his legs, wincing. Layton sighed impatiently.
"You'll need to lie flat."
"I can't, Professor!" Luke wheezed.
Layton rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm. Wait here!" he said, as if Luke had a choice!
Luke watched as the Professor began running down the street, only top-hat visible when he ran past tall hedges, bobbing along stupidly. A woman saw Luke and offered to help him, and that he shouldn't trust the random man who ran off to get help. Luke tried to say that he knew the man but the woman kept disagreeing and disagreeing.
"If you ever get lost, don't ask a man to help. You only ask for a woman to help you, or a man who is with a woman. Even better, ask a woman with children to help you!" Luke's mother had warned before he walked to town. She always warned him. Always, in-case on one occasion, Luke will suddenly forget the advice and be found dead in an alley-way.
George was a boy who loved football. He was always on the park, kicking the black and white ball high into the sky. If you asked him who he was going to marry, he would probably say: Football!
Or maybe Mary-Sue.
When Luke was coming home from school, he saw George talking to a man in a very clean suit. The man had been waiting outside in the playground for a very long time. Luke saw through the window, but he didn't want to point him out because he could have been a cleaner. Or something. He could have been a special cleaner, hence the suit.
The next day, George was boasting about how good he was at football, and that a professional football player from the Arctic thought he was super-duper talented. He was going to the professional football players house later that day so he could learn more super-duper football moves, and learn to kicky-uppy more than four-hundred times!!
George could boast a lot for a little boy.
No-one really saw George after that day. He vanished into thin air. Until the police from a dead, naked boy in a clean little caravan. It was too clean. The children obviously didn't understand because the only way you could die was from old age. That meant that George wasn't seven, but seventy!
The adults obviously knew what this meant. Mrs. Triton was in panic when the newspaper came with the article about little football-loving George. Luke recalled the day when she was arguing about it with his father... She used a certain word, but he couldn't remember it. It began with P-- Peddlesfile? Something like that. Luke was in bed at the time so he wasn't supposed to hear it. He didn't know what it meant, so why would he say it? Maybe he could ask someone sometime.
Layton came running back, gripping onto his hat, with another man in a white coat. The woman who was with Luke didn't mind when the man in the white coat put pressure on his sides, but something told him if it was Layton doing that she#d be wrestling him off. The man in the white coat said that he had cracked a rib.
"I'm not an old man!!" Luke protested.
The three adults stared at him in confusion. Layton knelt by his head. "Luke, try and stay quiet, alright?"
Luke nodded solemnly. It wasn't fair! It was the girl's fault he's all broken! How come she didn't crack her rib or cut her knee?
The man in the white coat took Luke and Layton to a very ugly building filled with germs, or 'Hospital' as Layton said.
"I can assure you Luke, hospital's are very clean places."
Luke disagreed. "But if people are ill here then the place has to be filled with germs, otherwise how do the people get ill in the first place? By visiting the factory of germs."
The nurses cooed over Luke, cleaned up his knee and injected him with this stuff that made him not feel a thing (or anaesthetic. Some people use really big words when talking to a little boy!).
It wasn't long until Luke was on his daily rounds again, delivering the papers and buying the weekly shopping from the market. His mother stopped him from doing it for several weeks. She wanted to be sure he was really okay.
And there he was, standing on the street clutching over a dozen newspapers, reading through the list. He had made up a reason to do it now. If case someone added anything extra on it. It was a very good reason. Luke had to admit, he was proud of it. As usual the list read:
Apples
Cabbage
Beans
Pork Hind
Tomatoes
Sprouting Broc
Onions
Nothing was added on. Nothing was taken off. It was exactly the same as the week before, and the week before that, and the week before that.
The market place was bustling with crowds. The shrilling voices of the market stalls could be heard from miles away. It's surprising how loud some people can shout. Just hope you don't have to talk to them too long, else you'll get ear-ache.
Luke finished the shopping relatively quickly, in fifth-teen minutes, and he had delivered two newspapers. All that was left was to turn around the corner of the street...
Luke found himself unusually nervous. It's just a corner, turn it already! What if a man-eating postman had-- Luke shook his head, clearing it from the dark, strange thoughts that lurked inside. It's just a corner...
He poked his head around, just in case. No-one was coming, no-one was going, no-one was a man-eating postman and no-one looked as if they were going to punch his face in--
Luke was thrust against the wall suddenly, hitting his head on the grey bricks. "Oww, what the?!"
The girl glared at him. "I told you to watch it! Stop snooping 'round my territory!"
Luke looked at her with a rabbit-in-the-headlights expression. The girl growled at him and threw him on the ground. "'Cause that's where rubbish goes!"
Luke resisted the temptation to tell the violent girl that rubbish goes in the bin. He would have to suffer much more disastrous consequences if he did. "Y-you took my satchel last time, can I have it back? I need it to put the papers i--"
The girl shot a another glare at him, colder than before. "I don't care about your fancy little bag, kid."
"C-can I have it back then?"
The girl's expression softened. "No."
"Please?"
"Stop beggin', kid!"
"I don't have enough money for another one, please I need it."
"Get your mum to get you another, princie!"
Luke stared at the girl as he stood back up. Where the hell did the name 'princie' come from?! "She can't afford another one! Please, I'll do anything!"
The girl leered, then smiled. When she cackled, Luke knew he should of re-phrased that sentence. "Okay then princie, you'll do anything?"
Luke swallowed. "Y-yup." he tried to say as coolly as he could, though a large amount of squeaking slipped in. What was she going to say? Probably some ridiculous task of some sort; shoot a banker, steal diamonds, murder the Queen.
"...Will you be my friend?"
Luke stared at the girl in awe. "Is that it?! So I don't have to shoot the Queen?!"
Then it was the girl's turn to stare at him in awe, shaking her head in disappointment. "You're stupid for a prince. Then again, they all are," she sighed "So, are you up for it? Are you ready to visit me everyday? You'll get your pretty little bag back."
Luke smiled at her. "Okay! I like making friends!"
The girl choked on the air. There's a first time for everything. "Okay! I'm Autumn, this is my territory, from the market sign to the city centre's fountain, got it? If you come to the fountain everyday for a week to meet me, you'll earn your bag back."
Luke quickly saw a flaw to this plan. "What if I stop seeing you after I get my bag back?"
The girl's eye glinted sinisterly and she bent over him. "I'll hunt you down and punch your pretty little face in."
"Umm, got it! I'm Luke by the way, I live on Bluebird Cresent."
"Oh, is that so?" Autumn asked smiling at him, a contrast to the threatening behaviour shown moments ago. "That means your family pretty poor, huh? I seen the houses there! They're either titchy or made out of crap. I guess I can give you your bag now, since we're both poor."
Even though Luke was terribly confused on what was happening, he still smiled and smiled even more when the girl took him to an alley-way and gave him his bag back.
"I'm sorry the handle's broken." she mumbled apologetically.
Luke tied the two ends of the leather strap together. "Don't worry, mum will probably fix it. It was nice meeting you, I'll see you at the fountain tomorrow, before I go school, yeah? Bye!"
Luke waved and ran off, clutching the papers. At least he could fit some in his bag now-- Luke fell on his backside.
"Are you alright, my boy?"
Luke laughed at the chances of meeting-- or bumping into-- the Professor again in the city. "I'm alright Professor," and at that moment of time, the word his mother had used flew into Luke's head, and that meant... "Professor, what does paedophile mean?"
. . .
"Can I have some tea?" asked Autumn, resting her head on Layton's shoulder lazily. Olivia and Flora groaned simultaneously. Luke wanted to groan, so he rolled his eyes instead. Even Alfie let out a sigh before going back to destroying Flora's shoe.
"Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that before..." Layton trailed off as he walked into the kitchen.
Olivia glared at Autumn. "You do not even like tea."
"Oh well!" Autumn grinned sheepishly, her arms slung over Luke's shoulders as she rested her chin on his hat. "Geez Luke, you're still growing? You can be taller than the other two but you can't be taller than me!"
Olivia hung her black cloak on the banister and sighed, eye twitching secretly.
. . .
Autumn sipped the tea and spat it back in the teacup.
"That's rude." mumbled Olivia, sipping her own tea politely.
Flora placed down a small tray of cakes on the wooden coffee table. "Anyone hungry?"
The three picked up a cake each and happily bit into it.
"I made them myself."
Autumn fell off the sofa and began screaming dramatically. "AARRGGHH!!! I'm dying!!! Please tell my family, I shall never return, for I had a long, painful death."
Olivia sneakily covered her smirk with her hand. Luke frowned stupidly, trying not to smile. Flora just put her hands on her hips. "I followed the cookbook."
Autumn quickly rolled back up and sat back on the sofa as if nothing had happened. "They're very nice."
The Goth nodded. "You have certainly improved. It looks like you baked nothing alive inside it this time."
Flora's cheeks burned at the comments. "Fine, I'll go get the first batch I made then..." Flora swivelled around and headed towards the door. Something of great weight tackled her legs, sending her flying and earning a few carpet burns. "Luke!!"
Luke suppressed a smile, and clung onto her legs. Whatever happened, she wasn't going to get the first batch of cakes. Good lord, no.
"Okay! Okay!" Flora wiggled free from his grasp. "I'll leave out those cakes."
"What on earth are you children doing?" said a familiar voice. "I serve you tea and you all roll about on the carpet?" Layton leant his back against the door and smiled. "You're all a bit old for wrestling aren't you?"
Luke stood up and helped Flora back up. "Mm."
"He made a noise!" Autumn glomped Luke happily, tackling him over. Flora held back a laugh and wandered into the kitchen, beginning to clean the pot and pans the were buried in cake-mix, listening to Autumn's shrieks of joy and Layton correcting her "I think he was just clearing his throat...". Luke's friends were nice, but they were a handful at the same time. When Flora first went to live with the Professor, she didn't expect Luke to have friends such as themselves...
. . .
Flora's eyes jolted awake at the sound of her name, and something shaking her shoulder roughly.
"Flora! We're here! Get your things!"
"Luke, a gentleman doesn't wake up a lady like that."
"But how was I going to wake her up?"
Flora banged her head against the window sleepily while the boy and the man talked on how to wake up ladies properly. The people were lovely, really, it was just that she didn't feel comfortable talking to them. They were pretty much strangers with puzzle obsessions. The house appeared normal on the outside, a small suburban home with ivy reaching around the top-right window, so thick that it looked like it had eaten the bricks. Mr. Layton gave her a tour on the just-as-normal inside.
"This is my room," said Mr. Layton, opening a door to a basic room with wooden and brown furniture. "You'll be sleeping in here until I get you a room fixed."
Flora found herself frozen for a second, and her cheeks flushed slightly. "A-and where will you sleep?"
Mr. Layton let out a soft chuckle. "I'll be sleeping downstairs in the living room."
"Oh..." Flora's cheeks resumed their usual colour, as she scolded herself mentally for asking such a stupid question.
"If there's anything you want to know, feel free to ask. I'm sure you're curious about your new home," said Mr. Layton as he placed her suitcase on his bed. "Hmm, I think I better change the bed sheets."
Flora's head had filled with questions, but she somehow picked one out. "Are you married, Mr. Layton? I was just wondering because you have a son..."
Mr. Layton pulled off the bed covers, glancing at Flora. "Married? No, no. And Luke isn't my son. We're not related in any way... And you can call me Professor if you wish, I've gotten used to it."
Flora nodded and offered to help change the covers but Mr. Layton said something about being a gentleman-- again. "Did you adopt him?"
Mr. Layton picked up the pillows and replaced them with cleaner ones. That question was a bit out of the blue. "Luke? No, his mother died around two years ago and his father has left him in my care for a while." Mr. Layton knew that in a month, it would be exactly three years since her death. Although he could of happily said two years and three-hundred and thirty-five days ago, he decided against it. The girl probably thought he had enough problems with puzzles and hats.
"Well, well, well," came a strange, almost strangled voice. "Proffy Layton doin' the cleenin'. Mae eyes deceive meh."
A somewhat robust woman was in the landing, her witch face grinning devilishly as she adjusted her grip on the washing basket, that held mostly blue, orange and brown. "So whoo's this? Ye better introdooce us latter. And lovey, ye to change the sheets on th' mattress is well." And with that the woman made her way down the stairs, the small heels on her boots clicking with every step.
"W-who was that?" asked Flora to a puzzled Professor, who stared at the bed.
"Bed-making is a puzzle on it's own..." Mr. Layton threw off the duvet and tugged at the sheets. "That's just Mrs. Millare. She's like our house-keeper. She cleans and cooks for us, but instead of living here, she lives next-door."
Flora nodded shyly. "I-is she strict?"
Mr. Layton smiled and patted her head. "It's nothing to fret over, my dear. Now then, I think I done rather well changing the bed!" he exclaimed, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork.
Mrs. Millare clicked her way back up the stairs and poked her crooked nose in Layton's room. "Well done sonny! You can teach bed makin' for beginners! Now stop harassin' the lass and get some dinner."
Flora followed Mr. Layton in the dining room, which was tiny compared to the one in Reinhold Manor. The table could fit about four people at the most, the Reinhold table could fit forty people. He obviously didn't have many tea-parties. The boy, Luke, was already seated, and seemed to scowl at her.
Mrs. Millare placed a plate of food in front of him, which he picked at distastefully. "So you're living here?" he seemed to spit out the words 'living' and 'here' with a poisonous tongue.
"Luke, don't be so rude." the Professor scolded gently, pulling out a chair for Flora. The chair wasn't as comfortable, but she would have to get used to it.
"That was the plan." she said, also picking at her food, just in a daintier manner.
Layton sighed, though he disguised it as a yawn. They got on so well at St. Mystere, surely her moving in wouldn't cause such a problem in his life. Luke often complained about being bored because no other children lived near, and his friends couldn't visit everyday.
"Why can't you get married?" Luke had pined over Layton's shoulder, almost tempted to knock the London Time's out his hands. "Then I can have brothers and sisters!"
"Luke, not every married couple has children."
"What's the point in getting married then?"
"To express their feelings to one another."
"But you don't have to get married to do that, do you?"
"It depends how you want to express your love, Luke." Layton tipped his hat upwards, not breaking eye contact with the morning paper. He could only hope that the curious boy wasn't going to bring up that question. It was easier when he was smaller, and could get distracted by grass, but this Labrador-puppy behaviour had turned into Border Collie attention. Almost.
"So there's a way of expressing love that you have to get married to do?"
Layton exhaled air in relief, although he knew he wasn't safe yet. "Getting married is an expression of love."
"So what can you do when your married and don't have children that's so special?" Luke groaned. He was going to get the answer, even if it meant going around in looped conversations and digging until he got the Professor to crack.
"...Have you seen the grass today, Luke?"
"I don't want to know about the grass! You're hiding something, and I know it! I bet it's written under hat!"
Layton folded up the paper and dropped in on the table. It was definitely not written down and placed under his hat, so little boys couldn't discover the truth of adulthood.
"I'll tell you when you're older."
"But what if I need to know now!"
"Believe me Luke, you wouldn't need to know at your age."
"But I'm eleven! Of course I need to know!" Luke bounced on the spot and paused when the front door clicked open. "Ms. Millare! Ms. Millare! I have a question!"
The woman waddled into the kitchen and put the kettle on. "Do ye now?"
"Yeah, and the Professor won't tell me the answer!"
"Really now? Ask away then, sonny."
"How do married people who don't want children express their love?"
Ms. Millare poured some tea. "By getting pregnant anyway."
"Oh," Luke lifted his blue cap and scratched his head. "So how do they get pregnant?"
"By--"
"I think we better go look at the grass, Luke, I really do!" said Layton hurriedly, pushing the boy into the garden.
"Mr. La-- Professor, may I be excused?" asked Flora, pushing her empty plate away.
"But of course, my dear. I need to talk to Luke anyway,"
Luke looked up. "Huh? That's not fair!"
"A gentleman doesn't complain. My study please, Luke, when you've finished."
Luke pushed his plate away is well. "All right then, Professor."
What Flora did next when Luke was in the study wasn't eavesdropping. It's just that she had gotten herself some water but accidentally split it all on a house plant, then accidentallydropped the glass on the floor, accidentally discovered that the study was above the Professor's bedroom and accidentally fell over with her ear accidentally pushed up on the glass. She accidentally heard everything.
"Luke, my boy, you don't seem yourself."
"...I don't want a girl living here..."
"There's nothing wrong with ladies."
"...She's different."
"She has a name."
"Flora's different."
"All ladies are different. You're friends with two of them."
"But..."
There was a scraping sound as a chair was tucked in.
"...I don't know how to say it, Professor."
"Flora isn't replacing anyone, Luke."
"I know... It's just that she's different."
"Luke."
"Sorry, Flora's different."
There was a soft chuckle, so soft that Flora couldn't almost accidentally hear it. "You're blushing."
"No I'm not!" was the reply, high and squeaky.
"There's a mirror over there. See, your face is shining red now."
"I... Uhh... I'm bleeding!"
"No Luke, I'm absolutely sure it's your face."
There was a light bang. "Life's not fair."
"Don't hit your head on the table," said the gentleman's voice. "You might damage the wood." Another chuckle. "Why isn't life fair?"
"Because each time I feel happy or lucky, something always happens that confuses me or makes me feel depressed."
"Luke... What are you confused about?"
"...I feel weird..."
"Luke, my boy, it's perfectly natural. A lot of things will happen that'll make you confused, especially at your age when you're growing up."
"...I don't want to grow up..."
"It's mandatory to grow up, however it's your decision if you want to act grown up."
"...Okay then, can I go bed please, Professor?"
"Yes, my boy. I'm happy we've had this conversation."
What conversation? Flora brushed off her nightie as she stood up. That wasn't a conversation, just a man hinting that puberty was to blame. Then again, it was amazing how Mr. Layton had gotten Luke to say all those things, only by asking two questions the whole time. Flora noticed you could see the little conversation in two lights, one was a man simply explaining to a boy that nothing was wrong and there's nothing wrong with ladies (avoiding to say that the boy's a sexist pig) or the other way; a man almost playing on words, getting the boy to confess by himself, other than forcing him to tell by throwing questions in his face. Trickery. The only questions he had asked were simple. 'Why isn't life fair?' and 'What are you confused about?'.
Flora felt a pang of jealousy. Although she was close to her father and mother, she never really talked to them. She could easily say that she loved her parents with all her heart, but when she had started her little monthly, she was alone and there was no-one to help her. She thought it was some embarrassing thing that only happened to her. It was only when Lady Dahlia (That's right, even robots have them!) was in an even more spiteful mood because her 'hormones were out of whack' and that she 'should of been prepared because it happened every month anyway' that Flora pieced together that it happened to every girl. She wasn't sure about boys, since she still didn't know the real reason why she bled for a week.
Flora sat herself down on the personally-made bed. The Professor was such a kind man who was giving up his own bed so she could sleep comfortably. Luke just scowled at her. She fell back, her head heavy with thoughts, and a slight part of homesickness. It was her village, and she'd abandoned it. She must of fell asleep, because her eyes jolted open again.
Knock, knock, knock. What a boring noise.
Flora stared at the door, hoping that she wouldn't have to get out the warm bed. She was unsuccessful.
Knock, knock, knock. It was just as boring as watching paint dry.
She swung her legs out the bed and opened the door slowly, trying to avoid it creaking. A small boy in blue, clutching a bear, was standing at her feet.
"Huh?" he squinted his eyes sleepily. "Where'd the Professor go?"
Flora yawned. "He's sleeping downstairs." she wanted to get Luke to talk to her, like he did with the Professor. It would be a lesson for scowling at her. Then again she had only known him for about a day, what are the chances that he'll talk to her even if she tricked him. "Are you alright?"
Luke froze, and yawned thanks to Flora's yawn. He mumbled something under his breath, so quietly that even a bat couldn't hear it. However, she did catch one word, and it solved everything. 'Nightmare.'
"Are you scared?" she whispered. The Professor's heavy breathing (for it wasn't technically snoring) could be heard from downstairs. Come to mention it, Luke did seem pale and his face looked as if it were wet.
"No!" he spat out, rubbing his arms warm.
"Then why did you come here?"
"I- uhh... I... I just don't like nightmares."
"No-one likes them," she smiled as she pictured a Goth or someone waking up one morning from a nightmare and say 'Wonderful!'. She yawned again. "Do you want to go in your own bed, or you can go in Mr. Layton's. I'm sure there's enough room."
Luke stared at her for a while.
"What?" asked Flora, touching her face. There could be some sort of growth or something!
"...Nothing."
"Tell me!"
"Why do you call him Mr. Layton?"
Flora laughed and took Luke's sweaty little hand, and led him through the darkness and into the bed. A nice feeling overcome her as she lay down on the other side, even though the boy scowled at her still, there was a sense that he wouldn't scowl at her any longer. "This is my side of the bed." he said cheekily, hugging the velvety bear to his chest.
Flora smiled once more. "Trust me, I won't hug you while you're asleep," she sneered.
Nevertheless, she fell asleep hugging him anyway, because one, it annoyed him, and two, it made her feel like the sister she never got to be.
. . .
A/N: So yeah, that's that chapter. Once again, not much happened apart from Luke's friends drank some tea. Wait a second... No mysteries added!!! This is terrible!! Let me just get my 'big page of plotting for the damn fanfic'... Hmm, it looks just about right. I'll get chapter three up as soon as I can for my dear readers. This chapter turned out a lot longer than expected (yet shorter in some senses).