Author's note: I know it may sound lame, but the text is read so much better if you imagine Luke's British accent, hahaha. I forgot to add that in the previous author's note. xD

I suppose the professor was desperately pushing towards a lighter, more optimistic conversation between us, what with his posture suddenly more erect, and the fact that he'd come barreling towards me with a blinding grin. Perhaps he'd decoded my new awkward personality within the few minutes I had been in his house, and was set to fix it.

"What brings you back Luke, hien? How were your years in college? Tell me all about it!"

His bellows of laughter after the questions just seemed outright unnatural to me. I made a face to show that I was unhappy with his own synthetic happiness. A moment of silence.

"I'm a scientist now."

I lied.

"Ahaha! I knew it, Luke! Something so great, so great indeed!"

He reached over the table to pat my shoulder then. I felt rigid, and my teeth were clenched. I didn't respond but with a single nod and looked away in flushed shame. It would be impossible to admit that in actuality, I had become an archaeologist, just as the professor taught, following in the footsteps of my 'beloved Layton' or s-some other nonsense. Again silence castled over us, until I think he realized that I am not the same youthful Luke I was years ago. He withdrew his hand and sat before me eying my teacup, momentarily defeated. Approximately eight seconds passed before the professor parted his lips and spoke again.

"You should stay here tonight, Luke. How long are you here for?" The professor smiled his best at me now, and awaited my response without movement.

"Where's Flora? You were calling for her." Wasn't I a banger?

"Oh, she went out for groceries. You should try her vegetable soup, it's quite good. Very delicious."

When Layton's eyes focused on something other than myself, I had the chance to observe him properly from afar. To be honest, he hadn't aged too much at all. He still smelled of cologne and Granny Smith apples, and ultimately kept free of wrinkles, the smart fellow. I wasn't surprised to find the professor in yet the same attire I last saw him in, the only difference being a new, more lush array of colors which told me that he'd just bought some new clothes.

Although I strayed from the question at first, I came around and agreed to staying the night. Naturally keeping mind to my memories, I made for my old bedroom. As I walked, an armful of a wet coat and cap, the other handling my briefcase, I realized that nothing seemed to change but the photographs hung in the halls and over the tables.

All of Flora and Layton.

I stood before my old bedroom door, Layton following up the stairs behind me casually. He went on about how Flora improved at fine cuisine, and was a dear at keeping the place benignly tidy. My hand turned the knob just as I'd heard the last steps up made by the professor, and before my mind could react, he had yelped to halt me. But to no avail did I yield when I turned to face him. Just as I whipped about, my expression being quite stunned as to what all the ruckus was about, Layton's limbs curled around my waist to shut the door. My bedroom was even off limits to me. Exhausted with my professor's peculiar behavior, I stepped aside and awaited further instruction.

"Now Luke, I've got a spare room just for you." He now paced ahead of me, with a stagger that in common body language, one could read that he was heavily embarrassed. Wonder why.

"Here you are my boy, a room for you to stay. Go ahead and set your belongings where they need be, and we can begin for supper if you'd like to assist me?"

To be honest, I was very much confused and quite suspicious. But I suppose it was none of my business. It seemed though, as if the man had just picked up as before and carried on, but I didn't feel the same way at all. I felt older, in more control. I felt that I knew my reasons for doing what I did, leaving when I did.

Gingerly I lay my few items over the desk that had been in sight, from no light but from the hallway, and remembered that the spare was once Flora's room. I shut the door behind me, just as the professor was locking what was once my room up, and we headed downstairs together. A few minutes passed, and before I knew it, I'd been peeling carrots at the counter alongside a man fumbling with a stalk of celery. I think Layton has a natural way of coaxing me into a comfortable environment whether I liked it or not, because now I piped up and forgot all about silly Flora. I didn't even expect her to walk through the door.

After laughing about my horrible animal-related disasters, the professor asked me what seemed to be a random question.

"So tell me Luke, why did you decide to go to Harvard rather than Gressenheller, where I teach?"

We were now chopping the cleaned and pruned vegetables. And suddenly.. the atmosphere was awkward.

"I-I," I hadn't any idea how to react. With a spur of the moment, I answered with what thoughts I had!

"I was bullied here. Often, actually." Oh dear, inwardly I cringed.

"Oh really?" Layton seemed somewhat concerned. This meant that not one bit did he believe me. His head tilted downward at me, with an eyebrow cocked and a smirk quite visible. I chuckled and shoved him lightly with my elbow. The man seemed to have cracked my long dried skin, and I'm smiling again. Like a fool.

I've never had a woman though, despite the numerous offers I've gotten, and countless friends I equipped myself with while overseas, and I never had a man, no matter their similar appearance to the love of my life. This somewhat troubled my peers and close college professors, for they figured that I was in some sort of pernicious state of mind, and would soon become some queer fellow. But I reassured them that I had just lost my war in love.

Now it was darkening into later hours in the evening, and the small boiling pot was brimming with a vegetable soup, recipe stolen from Flora or some other. The professor and I passed the time with countless riddles we had come upon while I was away, and chortled at the pugnacity Layton performed while enduring a puzzle I'd gotten from a German classmate. We ate the soup, and I agree, it was quite good. Only though, because we made it.

Professor Layton gradually fell into puddles of more exhaustion, fighting to keep alert but to no avail, and apologized to me that he needed to retire. It turns out that Flora and him had just returned from another mystery, and he had time off from his teaching job. So I understood. what it was that kept me up, I would say it was either the scent of the old townhouse, or awaiting the arrival of Flora Reinhold. And so I waited. Soon after the man traveled up into his bedroom had I realized that although I came from so far, I had nothing but the one outfit I'd been fashioning the entire day, and no nightwear. I scowled at myself for not asking the professor sooner for spare clothing, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like I'd planned to live here anyways, so it was alright. I polished the kitchen, and even reorganized what 'Missy Flora' had set up while I was away.

It had reached one in the morning, and she did not come home. My mind was boggled that Layton would fall into slumber without worry that his little girl was in a danger of some sort. So I sat at the foot of the stairs, irately staring down the face of the front door. I rested my elbows over my knees, and my chin in both of my hands, waiting and waiting, and waiting. Yet, until two into the morning, I had heard nothing but the ticking of a clock from upstairs. Then, the creak of the door startled my half daze, and I jumped up to tower over the female.

"Oh Professor, you didn't have to wait for me all night you know, I wa--. Luke."