It was like a wave of nausea mixed with deja vu, and he couldn't help but feel the familiarity as comforting. He had just had the oddest dream, like he was living through a day constantly. Something in his mind whispered this as he awoke.
He wasn't dead, like in his nightmare, and now he would live the day like nothing was wrong.
Except a time in the evening, that night, he realized something.
While he had brushed off the dream as nothing, Placid and Potty noticed a few bits here and there, everything in his dream, down to the question, was occurring now, as he lived and was awake.
The question was quickly answered with a 'yes'. Alfendi gulped.
At the quiet restaurant table, he peered out the window. His dream had been right on the mark the whole night. He didn't let Lucy know a thing though, since it was merely a theory, just speculation, and couldn't possibly be true.
As Lucy chatted with him about their current case and the evening's offerings, he began to relax, feeling secure in her presence.
Nothing would go wrong. All would be fine.
Until she stated a specific question that brought their untimely demise, "Prof, do you… Love someone?"
To which he replied, "Yes." But he never got to state the name of his beloved, as a horn honked outside the building and the truck barreled right through the window and wall.
It successfully collided with the booth they sat in and of course, them.
Not a moment later, he woke up again.
"What?" Alfendi snapped as he sprang to life in his bedroom, still groggy from sleep. Rubbing the side of his head, he began the day questioning what just happened.
And then he went though February 14th again.
He sat uncomfortably at his desk at work, scratching his head as he tried figuring out what was going on. Alfendi was reliving Valentine's Day, the day of love, and then dying.
Why?
He tried avoiding the same restaurant, suggesting along with the question, to go to a different place to eat.
Unsuccessfully, as another truck barged right in on his confession to her.
And the ceiling to his bedroom had never seemed so foreign to him.
Just what was happening? What was he doing wrong?
A few more times, he tried to avoid the end result, and it still came. He didn't feel the pain of the impact anymore.
Only heard her screams.
What was he supposed to do?
"Prof? Do you want to out to eat tonight?"
He looked up at her from behind the case file. Placid felt awareness of the situation again. The question. That was the variable that needed to change. Another place, he needed another place to go to. But that didn't alter a thing. He was running out of different places to be with Lucy.
Dead.
Awake.
Dead.
Awake.
Dead.
"I give up." He groaned as Lucy walk in. She asked him what he meant by that, something different from before. A different question.
It wouldn't matter if he told her or not. They'd end up dying again.
"Give over." She exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "That's insane, Prof! You're really not pulling my leg, are you?" Hugging herself a bit, Lucy shivered at the thought. To live a day over and over, dying and coming back to life, just sounded like something mad, out of a movie even.
Alfendi let his head fall on his desk with a sigh. How he wished he was lying. This repetitive mess was getting to him.
"Well, if this only happens when we go out together, why don't we just not? We can spend Valentine's Day alone. Then maybe tomorrow we can make up for it." She slipped in that last part, knowing that he would already say yes.
Why hadn't he thought of that?
So that's what they did.
Alfendi remembered to check the time. 6:21. Two minutes before the end.
One.
A truck horn blared as he watched it pass by his apartment window. How ironic. Instead of spending time with the one he loved on Valentine's Day, with hearts and chocolates and her precious smile, he spent it alone.
Until he heard a knock on the door.
When he went to answer it, he found no one. He cocked an eyebrow and was ready to leave, but then he saw the gift on the doorstep.
To Prof. From Lucy.
It was a file, the case they were working on today, that he never got to finish. Lucy had solved it on her own today. This time, anyway.
And there was a note with it.
Happy Valentine's Day, Prof! Hopefully you get to see tomorrow!
That was a poor joke, but he loved it anyway.
Placing the completed case file by his bed, he crawled in and stared at the ceiling, a sight he had been plagued with for so long after death.
Would he see tomorrow?
"Hopefully." He never clung more to Lucy's words than now.
Hopefully.
Happy Valentine's Day, forever, my dear.