An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
There’s a song stuck in his head, a vague thing na-na-na-na na-naa-na!-ing its way between his ears. Eugh. It’s a kitschy, jingly tune, probably from some commercial he forgot watching, leaving behind nothing but the song. Part of him almost wants to hum along, but that is a very small, very quiet part. This is Paul Matthews we’re talking about, after all— the guy who always sits out during Karaoke Night, that is if his coworkers even manage to drag him along in the first place. Singing is not, and never will be, his cup of tea.
Didn’t like, didn’t like, didn’t like-a-like ‘em! is right.
-:-
Paul is experiencing some fucking insane déjà-vu, and it is seriously freaking him out. How does he know what people are going to say before they say it? Why does it feel like… all of this has happened before?