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eddiesblklvr · 3 years ago

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a little dizzy

pairing: soulmate!calum hood x blackwoman!oc

warning: fluff, rude fans, mentions of colorists, fainting, not proofread

summary: in a world where being in the presence of your soulmate for a period of time makes you pass out, the two of them find each other through ashton OR ashton’s her best friend, calum’s her soulmate

wc: 4.7k

a/n: this is probably terrible and i don’t really like this but yk it’s fine

masterlist

aaliyah and ashton had been best friends since they were kids. it was a very ideal friendship, like the ones you would see in movies. they were always together, never wanting to be separated from the bubble the two of them built together.

they were always mistaken as a couple, but they didn’t mind it really. to them, it was normal.

but of course it all changed when ashton was asked to be in a band with a creepy facebook message. they spent less time together, and even less time talking to each other when his band went on tour with one direction.

she never had any time to visit him, with her job, school, and her family, she was always busy.

she had planned on surprising ashton, along with the other boys whom she talked to a few times, by flying out to see him. the bands third album, ‘youngblood’, was just released and she wanted to celebrate with her best friend for him and his band’s success.

as she began packing her bags and suitcases, she heard her phone ring on her bed. she dropped the clothes in her hand onto the bed before crawling over to grab her phone.

she looked at the caller ID and saw that it was, of course, her best friend facetiming her. she answered the phone as she sat back down on the floor, setting her phone up against her bed.

“you looked pissed,” ashton commented after a second of silence.

“that’s just my face.”

“i know,” ashton replied, watching as she folded her clothes and sat them off to the side. “what’re you doing?”

aaliyah shrugged him off, trying to hide the smile growing on her face, “just putting my clothes away.”

“are you really? you don’t just do that unless you’re bored.”

“yeah.”

“you’re not going to tell me are you?” ashton asked her.

“nope, but you’ll find out very soon,” aaliyah finally let herself smile as she continued to fold and pack her clothes.

“alright, well, have you met anyone new?” she knew what he was talking about, which kind of made her upset, too.

aaliyah let out a loud sigh, “no, ash, i haven’t.”

“well, that’s okay, you’ll meet them soon,” ashton told her, his usual smile sitting on his lips as he looked at her through his phone screen.

“whatever, just hope they’re not like racist or, you know, believes in stereotypes or something,” aaliyah rolled her eyes as she shook her head. she absolutely hated people like that, especially people who automatically thought she was “ghetto” and “loud” because of her skin color.

“i don’t think they’d be yours if they were anything like that,” ashton proclaims, giving her a knowing look.

“okay, that makes sense.” aaliyah told him that she’d talk to him later before hanging up the phone and throwing it onto her bed.

she packs a few bathing suits as well as different types of shoes to wear just in case they went somewhere fancy or something.

after her shower, she dries her body off with a towel and wraps her hair up with a smaller towel. she makes sure to sit her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash out to pack after she does her skin and hair care routine. she brushes her teeth, sitting it aside as well so she could pack it with the rest of her things.

she makes two trips from the bathroom to her bedroom putting the products in whatever bag they would fit in.

afterwards, she drops the towel wrapped around her body on the floor and goes into her underwear drawer, pulling out a pair of panties and a sports bra, slipping them both on. she moisturizes her body with cocoa butter before unwrapping the towel around her head.

aaliyah turns on the tv before going over to the corner of her room where her vanity is, searching through the drawers to get her hair dryer.

after her hair is dry, aaliyah puts it in a bun before putting her bonnet on to protect her hair while she sleeps and to make sure no oils get on her pillow. she then makes sure her vanity is cleaned off before she had to leave, putting her makeup on her bed to pack.

she puts the rest her things into the bag before pulling the covers on her bed back and moving under them. she makes sure her ceiling fan is on and her phone is on the charger before turning over and falling asleep.

fourteen hours on a plane and aaliyah is exhausted. she doesn’t know what time or day it was and her back and neck are in pain. she’s ready to go to sleep.

after getting her bags, she looks around in the sitting area for the person that’s supposed to be taking her to the band’s studio. she continues to look around until she sees the dirty blonde haired man sitting in a chair with his focus on his phone.

aaliyah shakes her head in amusement as she walks over to him. she sits down beside him and waits for him to notice her.

after two minutes of waiting, she was getting a little impatient. “michael,” she called out, turning her head to look at him.

“oh, hey! when did you land?” michael asks, finally putting his phone down.

“like 10 minutes ago. i’ve been sitting here for a few now.” aaliyah stands up, signaling that she’s ready to go. michael gets the hint, taking her suitcase to hold for her as the two of them walks the exit of the building.

in the car, the two of them got to know each other a little better than what they knew from what ashton had told them.

“how long have you known each other?” michael asks her, glancing between her and the road a few times.

“since we were 8. my family and i just moved from georgia to a house next door to his,” aaliyah explains, checking her phone to see what time it was: 7:27 pm.

michael nods, seeing how low and droopy her eyes were getting, so he decided not to reply and let her sleep until they got to the studio.

aaliyah woke up to the feeling of someone shaking her body and calling her name. her eyes fluttered open, being met with michael’s looking back down at her.

“come on before ash’s comes out here,” he says in a gentle tone, giving her a few seconds to wake up a little more.

once she was out of the car, michael led her inside the building as quietly as possible. aaliyah’s heart began to race at finally getting to see her best friend again after a few years. before entering the room, she could hear him laughing with the people he was with, which sounded like a large group of people.

when she could finally see him, his back was facing her. aaliyah sneakily walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her hands on his chest. she smiles when he looks down at her hand, most likely to see if he could recognize them. aaliyah has three tattoos on her hand on each of her hands, “outlast the ignorance” being her favorite for more reasons than one.

aaliyah knew he’d finally realized who she was when she hears the audible gasp fall from his lips, “oh shit!” he exclaims before taking her hands off of him so that he could turn around, pulling her into a tight hug.

tears were falling down her cheeks as she squeezed him back just as tight, laughter erupting from both of them. she missed him so much.

ashton suddenly pulls back, a frown replacing his happy smile once he sees her tear stained cheeks.

“aw, no tears,” he coos, wiping the tears off of her cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“it was a surprise, duh.” aaliyah rolls her eyes before using the back of her hands wipe the remaining tears away.

as she opened her eyes, she began feeling a little dizzy, blinking a few times to shake the feeling away. the dizziness began to worsen once she hears a door open and close in the distance, not really paying attention as she tries focusing on her vision which was getting blurrier by the second.

she hears her name being called a few times before her legs began giving out and her grip around ashton’s arms weaken.

“aaliyah?” ashton watches as her eyes roll back and close, her head rolls back and she’s falling. ashton quickly wraps his arm around the middle of her back, panicking. in the distance, he hears a loud thud, causing a few people to run into the hallway. he hears calum’s name being called and it clicks.

when being in the presence of your soulmate, you faint.

when aaliyah wakes up, she’s in a bright, unknown room, but it feels so familiar and comfortable. like she was supposed to be there.

when she had fully woken up, she realizes that she was lying on top of someone, her ear pressed against their chest listening to their heartbeat.

she didn’t really want to get up. she didn’t know who she was laying on, but they felt like home to her.

the person underneath her sucked in a large, deep breath as they wrapped their large arm around her shoulders and turning over, causing her upper back and head to fall onto the bed while her legs were still hanging on the other side of his body.

she looks at the tattoos on the man’s chest, realizing that she’s seen them before. she’s in shock when she looks up and sees calum looking back at her with the same expression.

the two of them hadn’t said a word to each other, just lied there staring until the door bursts open.

“good morning!” ashton exclaims. “alright, come downstairs and we’ll explain why you two ended up like this— aaliyah, why are you like that?” he asks, noticing that half of her body was across calum’s.

“i was trapped, couldn’t move,” she answers.

“okay,” ashton says after a short pause. “as i was saying, if it’s not obvious enough as to how you ended here, then hurry and get downstairs.” ashton shuts the door, not leaving them any room to talk.

“okay, let me up,” aaliyah says, patting calum’s chest. calum quickly moves his arm off of her, muttering a ‘sorry’ as he helps her move her legs off of him and onto the bed.

aaliyah remembers that she left her bags in michael’s car. groaning as she puts her hands over her face, she hears a drawer open from somewhere in the room.

“um,” calum begins, his voice deep and raspy from sleep, “are these yours?” aaliyah removes her hands from her face and turns towards calum’s voice. she sees him looking into the drawer his hand was still on, causing her to get up and walk towards him.

“i guess so,” she says, pulling out a pair of jeans that she knows are hers. “where’s the bathroom?” she asks. instead of answering, calum places his hand at the small of her back, leading her out of the room and to the bathroom.

she wouldn’t tell him, but she likes the feeling of him touching her. it feels normal, like they’ve been doing this for a while.

calum opens the bathroom door and turns the lights on. the bathroom was huge. the sinks were separate from the bath tub and toilet, having two huge mirrors connected to both sinks.

“this is nice,” aaliyah compliments, looking around the bathroom. “i wonder if my things are in here too.” calum removes his hand from the small of her back, resulting in aaliyah’s pout. it felt as if her body went cooler as soon as his hand wasn’t touching her anymore.

she watches as calum walks over to the closet in the bathroom, seeing products he’s never seen before.

“yep, all of your things are here,” calum confirms.

“okay, i’m gonna take a shower, clean up a bit. i’ll be out in a few.” calum nods, watching as she grabs and towel and a wash cloth, as well as her hygiene products and makes her way towards the other part of the bathroom.

calum watches her walk away, remaining in place as he thought over all that’s happened just that morning. lying in bed with her felt homey, congenial. he liked having her wrapped in his arms but he didn’t think it was that bad; to the point where he wanted to touch her all the time.

calum doubted he would ever have a soulmate. after waiting for so long, he didn’t think there was anyone out there for him.

shaking those thoughts out of his head, he walked over to one of the sinks to brush his teeth and wash his face before having to talk to ashton and the rest of the guys.

“so i’m supposed to stay here?” aaliyah asks in shock. she wasn’t really understanding any of this, everything except the whole feeling of touch.

“uh, yeah, that’s what i said. you haven’t heard the stories?” ashton asks.

“even michael’s heard the stories and he doesn’t pay attention to anything.”

“that is not true, i do pay attention,” michael pauses, “just to things i want to pay attention to.”

“so you’re saying i have to move here?” she asks once again.

“yes, that’s exactly what we’re saying.”

“but,” ashton begins, getting up from the couch and walking towards his best friend, “i know you studied music in school and you’ve helped me write a few songs, so i was wondering if you wanted to work with us.” aaliyah’s eyes nearly pops out of her head once the words came out of his mouth.

“with you?” she asks, looking up at him but pointing at everyone else in the room. “like— do what?”

“you know, help us in the studio with lyrics, melodies, maybe even add some backup vocals.”

“oh, she sings too?” michael asks from where he’s seated on the couch, although no one really paid any attention to it.

“i guess so?” she agrees after a pregnant pause.

“good. you didn’t have a choice anyway,” ashton jokes, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“gonna be difficult getting all my shit here,” she says, realizing that it would be a long process.

“anyways, you two,” ashton starts, pulling away from aaliyah as he looks between her and calum, “should go out. take a walk, go get breakfast, whatever,” he turns aaliyah around, pushing her towards the stairs along with calum, “and have a conversation, you know, get to know each other. go get dressed.”

aaliyah rolls her eyes at ashton as calum laughs a little with a smile on his face. the two of them make their way back upstairs and into the bedroom.

“so, where do you want to go?” calum asks her, looking for something to wear out.

“i don’t know, i’ve never been here before.” once aaliyah finds the clothes she wants to wear, she turns around and gasps when she’s met with a shirtless calum.

he looks her in the eyes as he picks up his green empathy hood, “what? you’ll end up seeing more one day,” he shrugs, pulling the hoodie over his head and pushing his arms through each hole.

“just wasn’t expecting to turn around and see your boobs out, that’s all.” aaliyah laughs as calum pulls his shorts down his long legs, going to replace them with his black skinny jeans. he doesn’t respond, just laughs and shakes her head.

aaliyah quickly slips off her shirt and pajama pants before slipping on her black leggings and a black crop top with the words ‘fuck off’ written in small letters in the corner.

a few moments after she was done, calum emerges from the closet with a pair of black converse on and a black beanie on his head. aaliyah goes to look for a pair of her socks before slipping those on and going to find her black slip on vans in the closet.

after getting dressed, aaliyah goes to the bathroom to fix her hair. she combs out her curls and uses her eco gel to slick back her hair into a low ponytail, using her edge brush to style baby hairs. she takes two small strands of hair on the sides of curls them around her fingers. when she’s finished, she cleans up her products around the sink, putting them back into the closet before leaving the bathroom.

“okay,” she says as she walks back into the bedroom. she grabs her phone from the charger on the nightstand beside the bed and her purse from the closet. she looks inside and grabs her chapstick, putting it on and rubbing her lips together to spread it.

“ready?” calum asks, watching her from the bed. god, he wanted to touch her so bad; told her hand, graze her arm, hug her, something! he just wanted to touch her. it almost felt like his hands were on fire after not touching her for a while, and he thinks she feels the same if the constant hand shakings are something to go by.

“yes,” aaliyah nods, moving closer towards him.

calum stands up from the bed and extends his hand out to her. he sees her eyes light up as she quickly slips her hand into his.

before they walked out of the house, calum stopped, turning to look at the shorter girl holding his hand. “at any point you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll leave. alright?”

aaliyah pauses for a moment as she stared back at him. she could see it in his eyes and the facial expression he’s making that he actually cares for her. lowly, she replies, “okay.”

the weather was nice, sunny with a small breeze causing her ponytail to sometimes blow in her face, perfect for a walk. the two walked hand in hand down the through the city.

��can i ask you a question?” calum asks her, breaking the peaceful silence that surrounded them. aaliyah hums in agreement, waiting for him to ask the question she assumes he’s thinking about for a while.

“are you…” he pauses, “you know, seeing anyone?” aaliyah giggles a little, surprised that that was the first question he’d asked her.

“no, i’ve never been with anyone before,” she answers honestly, watching in amusement as calum’s head snapped to look down at her.

“you serious?” he asks, watching aaliyah nod with a hint of a smile on her lips. “any reasons?”

aaliyah shrugs, “i don’t know, really. just wanted to wait for,” her eyes trail over calum from head to toe, nodded towards him, “this, i guess.”

calum wraps his arm around her shoulder with their fingers stills intertwined, letting her lean against him. “waiting for me?”

“shut up, this is getting weird,” aaliyah orders playfully, a grin taking over her face as she listens to him laugh at her.

crossing the street, they were now walking in a busier part of the city, where all of the restaurants and stores were. it was where most people went daily.

aaliyah wraps her arm around his waist, squeezing the flesh on his hips every so often. aaliyah’s eyes trailed over every restaurant they passed by until one of them looked nice to her.

“let’s go in this one,” she tells calum, looking up to look into his eyes. calum unwraps his arm from her shoulder and releases her hand from his as he goes to open the door. aaliyah walks inside, waiting until calum’s by her side again but refraining from holding his hand as she doesn’t want to seem clingy.

calum and aaliyah sat down at a booth in the corner of the restaurant and waited for a waiter to approach them.

throughout breakfast, calum decided he wanted to get to know the girl better, asking her about her favorite things, her family, her hobbies, her likes and dislikes, and aaliyah welcomed all of his questions without care.

“so, you sing?” he asks her. aaliyah begins to blush, although it’s not really noticeable with her skin tone, calum still notices though. he thinks it’s cute how she’s trying to hide her smile.

“yes,” aaliyah replies.

“and you write songs?”

“i do,” aaliyah nods, knowing exactly where this is going.

“you don’t want that to be your job? well— didn’t?”

“i mean, i thought about it a few times, but i don’t know. in this industry you lose your privacy, it could end up depressing, you could end up being controlled by your label, i just don’t know if i want that to happen to me. plus, i’d need a backup plan if shit went south, so i wanted to finish school.” aaliyah shrugs as she stacks the dirty plates in the corner of the table.

“understandable,” calum shrugs, understanding exactly what she was saying.

“you’ve asked me thousands of questions about myself, what about you?” she asks him, taking a sip of her drink.

“what about me?”

“what’s your favorite color?”

“i like blue, but like, baby blue.” aaliyah continues to ask the same questions calum asked her until they’re ready to leave.

“oh, shit,” calum mutters as he sees a group of paparazzis outside of the restaurant. he pulls out his phone to call someone to pick them up, not wanting to risk his or aaliyah’s safety. the walk to the cafe wasn’t that long, so waiting for a car shouldn’t be either.

“the car will be here in 10 minutes,” calum tells her. as they wait for the car, it seems like those 10 minutes lasted hours. she was getting nervous, but wouldn’t let it show at all, didn’t want anyone knowing what kind of effect these people had on her.

she’s looking out the windows of the cafe as the car finally pulls up. calum grabs a hold of her hand and squeezes, causing her to look up at him. he nods his hand at her, silently asking if she’s okay. aaliyah nods, quickly looking away from him.

hand in hand, the pair walked towards the exit and out of the restaurant. as soon as the doors opened, they were bombarded with questions. asking who she was, if they were together, how they met. there were a few rude questions and questions concerning her looks, but she barely listened as calum continued to whisper in her ear, calming her nerves.

the two quickly made it across the street and into the car waiting for them.

aaliyah’s lying down on the couch with duke as she scrolls through her twitter feed. she’s following the bands topic so she sees almost everything that involves them, but a tweet from a few days ago, she didn’t necessarily want to see it.

“he should’ve given up on his soulmate if she was gonna look like this in public”, it didn’t hurt her feelings or make her sad, it pissed her off but didn’t really bother her. she starts laughing; laughing so hard that she can’t breathe and tears are in her eyes. she likes the tweet and quote tweets it with laughing emojis.

she makes her way up the stairs and into the bedroom and opens the door, seeing calum sitting down on the bed with his back against the bed frame.

“what’re you watching?” she asks, standing in the doorway.

“i don’t really know,” calum answers, moving his gaze from the show to her. he’s watching as she walks over to him. she crawls onto the bed, sitting with her legs crossed and her body facing his.

“you know your fans think i’m a bitch,” she tells him, a smile creeping on her face.

“seriously?”

“yeah, i saw it on twitter,” she shrugs, “said you shouldn’t have met me if i wasn’t gonna dress up to go out in public, said that i looked like a bitch, too.” aaliyah continues to laugh, which confuses calum.

“and you’re laughing?”

“yeah, i don’t care what they say about me, they don’t know me.” calum stares at her for a few more seconds before he reaches out to her, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her towards him until she’s straddling his thighs.

there’s a pregnant pause as he rubs her hips and waist. he likes the way her body feels and looks, the curves of her hips when she’s sitting, the thickness of her thighs, the slight pudge of her stomach, he likes everything about her.

“i really like you, liyah,” he says quietly, looking directly in her eyes. aaliyah doesn’t reply, just smiles before she’s leaning in towards him and pressing their lips together.

aaliyah drags her hands from around his neck to rest it on his cheek. the kiss was very short, no sexual tension, just pure tenderness for each other.

later that evening, aaliyah is lying on top of calum while she’s sleeping. she has the top of her head in the crook of his neck, one of her legs are bent on his stomach, and one of her arms are thrown over his chest and over his shoulder.

he loves the idea of getting to spend the rest of his life with her. she makes him happy, makes him feel things he hasn’t felt in a long time about anyone. he was very grateful for her.

calum’s scrolling on his phone before he looks down at her, admiring the position they’re in and the way she looks while sleeping.

he goes to the camera on his phone, angling the phone so that it shows most of their bodies, and takes the picture.

turning his phone off and putting it on the charger before getting comfortable enough to fall asleep.

when he posts the picture (along with a few others of them) a few weeks later, his captions brings her to tears. it’s simple, but he shows how much he cares about her.

“aaliyah, although we’ve just found each other, i’m convinced that i’ve already fallen in love with you. from the moment i met you, i’ve felt such a deep connection to you. there’s something so beautiful and deep in your soul that i fell in love with. i feel like i’ve always known you, like half of your heart is mine and half of mine is yours, like we share a soul. of course everyone feels like this when they meet their soulmate, but i don’t think i could imagine my life with someone other than you.

i love you and i’m making breakfast so come downstairs.

- cal x”

when she reads the end, she begins to giggle, sniffing as her tears fall down her cheek. she puts her phone down and goes downstairs to the kitchen, seeing calum place two plants at the table. once he’s finished, he turns towards the door and sees her looking back at him.

“good morning, my love,” he says as he pulls her into his arms, pressing a few kisses to her temple.

“i saw your post,” she tells him, “you didn’t tell me you were gonna post about me.”

“did you not want me to?” he pushes her back slightly by her shoulders so that he could look her in her eyes.

“no, it’s okay. i just wasn’t aware that i would be crying at 10 in the morning.”

calum laughs a little before leaning down a bit to kiss her lips, pecking them a few times before eventually letting them linger. once they pull away from each other, aaliyah’s resting her chin against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“i love you, too.”

calum’s smiling from ear to ear before he leans down to peck her lips one more time. he pulls away completely but holds her hand in his, bringing her towards the table where the couple enjoys each other and their breakfast that morning.

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calpops · 4 years ago

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searching souls | c.h.

Calum despised the crown that sat atop his head, he never wanted to inherit a throne and a kingdom if it meant bowing to the pressures of a court and a union that wasn’t with his soulmate. He was left with reminders of who he was supposed to be with; fleeting marks gracing his skin. They served as reasons, they told him in fine silver lines and blooming purple what was worth fighting for. A ballerina with an injured arm and distaste for all that royalty brought showed Calum what his soul truly yearned for. Who he truly was and who he was supposed to be with. He could only hope her soul was set out in search of the same.

18k words

This fic has been in the making since April of 2019 and I am so incredibly happy I have finally brought it to life and can now share it with you all. I hope you enjoy. <3

<< >>

Calum became one with the shadows, the night disguising him with tendrils of darkness that were a little too easy to sink into. His back pressed to a stone wall and a cry of relief and for privacy fell from his lips. He was always aching for a moment alone, to be away from the endless amount of people that endlessly crowded him. Moments before his dash down a flight of stairs he was sat among such a crowd and added tenfold; he had stared at a stage with dancers telling a story he didn’t quite understand, with people crowding him he didn’t really know. His presence was obligatory according to the court—an invitation one he was not allowed to refuse. He was a visitor in this domain, one where the tilt of his crown was less commanding and more endearing. He wasn’t quite considered and treated as a future leader here; he was viewed as a rare commodity, a celebrity and something to be passed along and propped up in advantageous places.

His royal guard, Ashton, stood just behind the exit, the door stayed propped open so he might spring into action on a moment’s notice. Even when Calum was alone someone always lingered. He wasn’t sure when his last true moment of peace and solace was. He’d bargain it may have never happened, that he might be chasing that feeling for the entirety of his life. Going round and round against the court and commoners, tailspinning through a whirlwind he never chose to be in. For the moment he found a semblance of peace; of all the people to be alone with Ashton was the easiest. He was a lively guard but a quiet presence when needed.

Calum could still hear the music that played floors above him. The ballet was only about half through, possibly nearing the intermission, more hours to sit through facing Calum in a taunting way. He had never been one for the ballet or operas or plays; he found them to be disarming, unamusing and hours of his life he would never get back. With agile fingers he pulled a lone cigarette from the inner pocket of his suit, a light to follow and took a drag—smoke pluming into the night air in a thick reminder of reliance. He was trying to quit, he knew the habit was nasty and left reminders on his skin, a tendency to forget leaving mild burns in their wake. Reminders that would fleetingly grace the fingers of his soulmate.

Footsteps echoed down wooden stairs, they were light and rhythmic; landing each step in a delicate and decisive way. Calum turned, shoulder pressing into the stone as his eyes shifted to the door, caught a shadow towering on the back wall as the person descended. He heard Ashton clear his throat and the squeak of a floorboard as he too shifted to accommodate and size up the new presence. Calum turned back, took another drag and let out his breath as the steps neared and dropped down to the level he stood his ground on. Saccharine invaded his senses, nearly covered the smoke and drowned out the breeze of city air.

“You know this is a performer’s exit only,” the voice that said it was soft but commanding, a warning laced with subtlety that spoke volumes more than a boom.

Calum rolled his shoulders back, dropped his hand with the cigarette to his side and spun to face the voice of reason. She stood tall, leotard clinging to every curve, large coat trying and failing to conceal her arm that rested in a sling. Calum shrugged, gave a half attempt at expressing an apology.

“I’d be careful. Intermission is coming. Some people like to sneak down for a smoke. Guess you couldn’t wait,” she continued around a pointed look and sigh, pushed falling honey hair that Calum surmised was once neatly tucked into uniform back behind her ear with her free hand.

“I could wait. I chose not to,” Calum mumbled as he lifted the cigarette up for one last drag before letting it fall to the cobblestones below and using his shoe to snuff it out.

He wasn’t used to being called out as clear as day. He wasn’t used to just anyone speaking so freely but it sparked something deep rooted and missing from his life. He enjoyed petaled pink lips giving him a reality check without inhibitions or fearing his crown. It suddenly hit him she might not know. That his identity could still be under wraps and as much a mystery to her as she was to him. He smirked, adjusted his jacket and crossed one leg over the other for a more casual stance.

“Very well, then,” she said and made as if to leave but Calum stopped her short with an explanation she hadn’t asked for.

“It was just a bit too crowded, I needed a breather,” he said and realized the tobacco infused irony of his admission.

She laughed, the irony not lost on her but his identity seemingly so. Her head tilted back ever so slightly with the giggle and her free hand found hold on the strap of the sling. He wondered about that; clearly something had gone awry in the time he left and she appeared. He couldn’t place her on the stage but knew her to be among the ballerinas, if not for the proper use of a designated exit or the leotard then for the graceful poise and posture that carried her every movement.

“I heard we sold out tonight. Quite the full house in there,” she began with understanding flooding her eyes. “Some royal was invited. Guess it drew quite the crowd.”

For the first time Calum noticed her eyes, his gaze finally drawn away from delicate pink to clashing colors. Her right eye was deep and dark, brown to the point it was almost black. The left was nearly hazel, green with tints of gold that glittered against the contrast of the right. Stars above them lit the way for Calum’s gaze to wander and linger, take in fine details he wouldn’t have if he spotted her on stage. A small silver scar hid at the edge of hazel, a story that tried to disguise itself with make up but shone through like the moon behind the clouds. Her coat was tweed and worn out, scuffed shoes took the place of ballet slippers and tights ran up and down her long legs with ease. She was put together but built with rough edges that would never see the light of a stage. Of all the ballets Calum had been forced to attend he couldn’t picture a ballerina out of the light; with hair falling down and clothes that hid immaculate costumes. He liked seeing her on the other side.

“A little packed for my taste,” Calum commented and inwardly shook his head, hoping the comment didn’t come off as condescending or belittling. Her eyes narrowed but a small tilt of her head spoke it more as curiosity and less as offense. “A little too long too. I’ve never been able to sit through an entire ballet.”

Once more Calum scolded himself for his choice of words. If not for the near insult then for the opening of questioning on her behalf. She jumped at the opportunity and Calum admired her quick observations and wit.

“Frequent ballets though you hate them?” She inquired and took a tiny step forward, sticky sweetness coming closer, another tendril of hair falling loose and covering her dark brown eye.

“It’s never really been a choice,” Calum reluctantly admitted.

She nodded as if she understood but Calum knew she didn’t, she couldn’t.

“It was never really my choice to be in the ballet,” She quipped with a shrug and a slight grimace at the motion; arm injured obviously hurting with the thoughtless act. Her fingers curled into her palm and Calum made note of the white knuckles and tightening grip that surely left crescent prints into soft skin. “Parents.”

She said her explanation just as Calum thought the word for his own explanation. Parents. The court. His crown. They all begged his duties and required his attendance to places he wouldn’t usually care for. He arched an eyebrow at her explanation though; suddenly captivated by how she might understand and what similarities they truly shared.

“At least you’ll get a break?” He offered in question as he peered at her injured arm, still curious what happened in his absence. “How did it happen?”

She laughed but the sound wasn’t as humorous as her first laugh at burning irony. This time it was dryer and expelled in a force that lingered between them. “Don’t tell me you left within the first five minutes?”

Calum shook his head and wracked his brain for any incidents but admittedly paid very little attention to his surroundings other than the creeping claustrophobia and desire to be anywhere else. He bit his lip, wished he hadn’t snuffed out his last cigarette so soon and felt his fingers close around empty air. He felt Ashton’s gaze and to his guard’s credit he did try to be discreet though his lingering presence must have aroused questions and suspicions to the ballerina rolling different colored eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t pay attention,” she uttered and once more made to pass Calum but he was quick to pull her attention back to him, cleared his throat and mustered out an apology—albeit a bit of a sarcastic one—that made her sigh and pause in the night. “I was dropped and replaceable. I best be going. You might want to as well; if you don’t like crowds.”

The promise of people sneaking down during intermission reminded Calum that he had his own people waiting within the balcony seats. In a brash and unexpected even to him move his hand searched the depths of his jacket pocket for a crinkled scroll he had tucked away—after sparing half a glance at it when his advisor handed it over and droned on about the ‘gathering’. He felt the folds and pulled it out, smoothed it a bit so she might have a chance at reading it and offered it to her much more timidly than his confidence usually allowed.

Her curiosity was admirable as she willingly took it without a word and read under starlight.

“A royal gathering?”

Calum shrugged, hoping to keep up the facade he was one with the usuals. “A ball of sorts. I have some connections to the kingdom. Drop by, tell them Thomas invited you.”

Her eyes roamed from the scroll and back to him, trying to figure out the sudden invitation and the reasoning for it. Trying to figure out who he was and what his intentions were. His middle name may have thrown her off, if she had any suspicions his method of secrecy was practiced; known to his kingdom but lacking common knowledge outside palace walls. His people would understand.

She folded the scroll back up with her free hand and didn’t say a word as she moved along, stepping around him and glancing back. Calum forced an uncertain smile as she blew out a breath of disbelief and fully turned back to him, hand raising with the scroll in her clutches. Calum felt winded as she pressed the scroll to his chest with a decisive shake of her head.

“I could go, I choose not to.”

Her words were a near replica to his explanation of sneaking away before the intermission. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a fleeting second of eye contact; his heartbeat was erratic under her palm. He wondered if she could feel it, if she could hear it past the music that still accompanied dancers he had paid so little mind. Her hand stayed in place, scroll pinned to him; his hand came up to ghost over hers, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her hand and the scroll to fall. Neither happened.

“I’ve never been able to endure an entire royal gathering,” she added on with a glint of humor and mischief sparkling clashing eyes.

“Or let go of me,” he remarked around a smirk. Calum heard Ashton shifting, held his breath and grimaced as he came into sight with protective senses in overdrive. The ballerina casted a quick and flickering gaze to the not so inconspicuous guard just doing his job.

She backed off in a split second, the loss of contact burning through Calum as she cocked her head to the side and pouted petaled pink lips. She gave a shrug as the scroll drifted down to the cobblestones below, settled neatly at the toe of Calum’s shoe. Part of him wanted to move to pick it up but he stayed stoic and merely dipped his hands into his jacket pockets and toed at the edge of the invitation. It was stagnant in the still night air.

“I don’t think your friend over there really wants me around,” she commented. Calum shook his head and gave a warning glance to Ashton to back off; all was fine and his presence wasn’t needed. But Ashton lingered with a serious gaze and set jaw, eyes flickering back up the stairs as if to communicate what Calum already knew. He should be getting back. Ashton cleared his throat to emphasize his point. “Oh don’t get all worked up. I’m leaving now.”

Calum watched as she began to stalk away again, her coat trailing down to her knees and sashaying with the swing of her hips as she glided under moonlight. Calum sighed as he watched her but one last question sprang to his lips, one last desire to see brown and hazel and a silver scar that held them together.

“I didn’t get your name?” He said it as a question and waited as she paused. He didn’t know if she would answer or if she would tell him the truth. He hadn’t. His offering of his middle name less than honest.

“Alena,” she said without turning back to him and granting him his last ditch desire. “Maybe some day you’ll tell me your real name, your highness.”

She rounded the corner of the alley and dissapeared around the edges. Calum stood in shock at her knowledge, the brash way she dangled his lies behind her back and in front of his face leaving him a bit breathless and uneasy. She knew and she still treated him as any other. She was aware of crowns that sat atop his head and thrones that placed him higher than others, of castle walls that shrouded him in a life he didn’t desire. He turned back to Ashton who wore his practiced patience in his subtle expression. Calum shook his head again; still befuddled by the exchange. He rolled his sleeves up and moved to enter the stone building and go back to boredom built around crowds. Ashton stopped him short.

“Your arm,” he said and made Calum peer down.

A fine line of bruising ran up his forearm. It was blooming purple and light blue, completely unfazed by the touch of his fingertips grazing along it. His soulmate’s aches appeared on his skin and tampered with his thoughts. He froze as Ashton was trying to carral him back into the building, the distant sound of footsteps above them delivering a promise from petaled lips and an injured shrug. Calum sucked in a breath that got caught in the back of his throat as Ashton placed a hand on his upper back and broke the motionless state he was once captured by.

“She was wearing a sling,” Calum managed to get out, craning his neck back towards the corner she rounded and dissapeared to. “She had a scar by her eye.”

Ashton was seemingly confused for a moment as Calum was slow to move up the stairs with him. But the statements quickly caught up to him and began bursting into a world where your other half bore your scars and wore your bruises for just a moment in time; just long enough to know their pain and identify matching intricacies.

“You don’t think?” Ashton asked, suddenly more deadpan than Calum had ever witnessed his guard. “She’s not…”

Calum forced nonchalance. Tucked his own wants and hearts content to the back of castle walls. “It doesn’t matter.”

The court would never allow for Calum to pursue anyone without a royal bloodline. It was all a game of opportunity. A contract in the making to unite kingdoms and gain more power than they already had. Power that Calum didn’t want and couldn’t actually control. Power he would gladly give away in exchange for being with the person he was made for. For years he was convinced there was no one out there; that he wasn’t deserving and if he was they weren’t deserving of the complications that would follow. Now, coming eye to eye with someone who finally didn’t care about his title, didn’t bow at his presence or fear his authority, to see hazel and deep brown marked by a silver scar, it was a fear he needed to confront.

Calum made his way back up the steps as ballerinas passed by, Alena’s promise becoming fulfilled as the music had died off and people made a getaway for a short break. He knew the scroll he had given Alena had fallen and was probably long gone, lost to the wind and roaming cobblestone streets in a nighttime haze. It was the only reason he would have to see her again. The purpled bruise that stained his arm would fade by morning and he would no longer have any trace of her except the drone of music that rang through his ears. If in fact an identical bruise laid within the sling that hid her arm from his view. If, a matching scar ever graced his eye. If, forgotten cigarettes left marks on her fingers or an accident with a sword ever graced her with a line from ankle to knee or the press of a blade marred above her heart too; accidents in training that sidelined him from any type of further combat work.

Questions would stay unanswered during the rest of the ballet. People would drift in and out of Calum’s focus and a new attention would be paid to the art form taking life on stage. He would go back to his quarters that night, fingertips grazing along the reminder of her—the wonder if it was truly her—as he lost himself in the echoes of the night and souls set out in search of each other.

***

Morning came in golden glows and faded colors already leaving his skin. The first half of the morning was spent in a haze, bypassing those who whispered words in his ears and controlled the strings that were always attached and following him in secret shadows that no one else could see but he felt with every step and pull. His accommodations were regal but they were so much like home he had a desire to leave and wander; to break away from the usual mold of frivolous expenses. With Ashton by his side he roamed halls made of marble and gold, with chandeliers that hung as high as the heavens on vaulted ceilings with intricate carvings. He wandered past the fleeting rush of advisors and the courts, of people who were likely to stop him in his tracks and push him this way or that; if only Calum hadn’t had a lifetime of slipping through the cracks and ghosting along hallways until an escape was found.

Only Ashton was a shadow behind him that could keep up as he made a getaway into the city. People passed by in rushes and Calum blended into the crowd with ease. He was practiced in the art of escape and when given the chance he could be one with a crowd—Ashton always following; evidentially two with the crowd. Only when his people lingered around him and royal clothes clung to his body did anyone make a fuss; except Alena. She was still on his mind as he wandered cobblestone streets in pursuit of something out of the ordinary. Street vendors hollered out their merchandise and prices in competition with each other’s voices. The sun beat down but a small breeze helped liven the day and make the heat bearable. Calum was accustomed to the warmth, his own kingdom was not far away and not much different in temperature though the winds carried salt from the sea up to his quarter windows and waves could be heard crashing around his land. This city held only the ricocheting of footsteps and busy voices.

Up ahead a flower cart stood elegant with orange petals spilling over notched woodwork. In a moment of intrigue and finding something out of his own ordinary Calum ventured over. White petals usually graced the palace halls. Orange was a far cry and more lively touch. Floral perfume greeted him with grace as his fingertips touched satin petals, eyes fixed upon the warmth of the flowers and the heat that touched his cheeks.

“Thomas?” A familiar voice said around a question and disbelief. Calum looked up, found clashing eyes fillled with questions and a silver scar shining under the sunlight and lack of makeup. Alena smirked on the other side of the flower cart.

“Calum, actually,” he corrected around a faint blush that danced from his cheeks and down his neck; painting a path of embarrassment at his half truth. His voice was low, hopefully only loud enough for Alena to hear. Possibly Ashton who lingered at a diagonal with shifting eyes and open ears.

She tilted her head to the side and let her smirk deepen as the truth floated between them. She nodded as Calum casted a gaze up and down, noted the sling still supporting her arm, the loose dress that hung off her frame and the honey hair that framed her face in soft tendrils. She was a different person from the previous night. Calum wished the bruises on his arm hadn’t faded so soon, that she might be able to peer at them and recognize them as her own. Affirm his suspicions or deny his foolish thoughts. But they were barely a whisper on his skin now, much too faded to catch the eye.

“Hate ballet but love flowers?” She asked around her tilted smirk and eyes that gleamed and tried to figure him out.

He gave a shrug and eyed a bunch of flowers at her side, she followed his gaze and used her free hand to scoop them up and offer them over the other side of the cart.

“A ballerina and a florist?” Calum then asked, just then realizing she was the merchant; the one in control.

“And a hard bargainer; just for the morning until my father takes over,” she said wryly with a raised eyebrow and a lingering touch as she made the exchange of flowers from her hand to his.

Calum took just a moment to inspect her hand, no identifiable marks except a freckle on the back of it laid on her skin. None to Calum’s knowledge other than of his own doing had ever graced his hand. Only small burns from forgotten cigarettes and blisters from weapons and instruments. Alena told him the price for the flowers and Calum saw it as an opportunity to strike a deal.

“How about all of that and a day with me?”

She contemplated his offer much more genuinely than she had his invitiation to the ball under the guise of his middle name and ‘connections to the palace’. His honesty must have been refreshing, his true self accepted. He didn’t need pretenses or walls up, he didn’t even feel the need to worry about being used for his title. It was abundantly clear it didn’t impress her and wasn’t the way to win her over. But a genuine offer and smile, a brush of fingers and hope strung up in his heart seemed to do the trick,

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, free hand going to fidget with her sling and insightful eyes finding Ashton still lingering and watching. “But he can’t come.”

Calum heard Ashton scoff—his duty to protect and promise to stay inconspicuous being overridden by an ego that sometimes had a hard time fitting through drawbridge doors. Alena swept her gaze from Ashton to Calum, waiting for a confirmation and time spent together. Calum mused through the outcomes of his decision. He gave Ashton a glance that asked him to stay where he was as he pulled Alena slightly to the side and hopefully out of Ashton’s ear shot.

“Losing him will be difficult,” Calum warned with orange flowers tucked neatly into his grasp.

Alena smiled and Calum watched as her eye line got lost up the way of the street of vendors. “My father is just up there. We could make a run for it,” she whispered, gone on the tops of her toes to ensure Calum was the only one to hear. Saccharine came back to him, warmth collided with soft skin and fingertips tingled at the contact.

Calum followed her gaze and saw an older gentleman; flowers pinned to his coat and a cane in his hand. He grinned and waved at Alena who responded in kind. He then took a peek at Ashton who lingered around the flower cart; appearing as a curious customer inspecting petals; attention rapt on the display of colors and stems.

“Now?” Calum asked and instructed with a low voice and hand that reached out to capture hers not contained by the sling.

She accepted the offering and they started to edge away in a slow movement at first and then broke into a run that rounded corners and lost a guard who didn’t know his way around the city the way a poised ballerina did. It wasn’t the first time Calum had dared to run away from a guard but it was the most successful plight he had attempted. Ashton was lost around bends and breaths were caught as they came to a stop with backs pressed to a stone wall. Calum recognized the building; only because he lived a moment outside of his own mind. She brought them back to last night, the alley between buildings and an exit meant only for performers.

As Calum and Alena let their breathing level out Calum noticed the flowers in his grasp had lost petals along the way. A scattered and hazy orange path must have laid in their wake as they made their getaway. He pulled them up and presented them to Alena who giggled at the sight of mostly stems. Calum smirked as he handed them back to her.

“For you.”

She cocked her head to the side and clashing eyes scanned the once bouquet. Delicate fingers plucked a lone survivor from the pack, spun the stem and created a glow of orange dancing in the morning sun. Calum dropped the rest, carefully took hold of the one in Alena’s grasp and moved it to tuck it behind her ear.

It fell lopsided, cut shadows against a scar and added to the line of color that happened across her face. Dark brown glittering under the sun, warm pink tinging tan cheeks, hazel accentuating a crescent of silver, and orange petals blending with honey hair that fell free. In the night and morning he had known and interacted with her; her confidence had yet to be shaken but a sweep of modesty that had her playing with her skirt and turning her feet inward had Calum chasing that reaction. He rolled his sleeves up, still disappointed her gaze wouldn’t land upon a sign that perhaps they were something more than strangers on the run together. He could ask her but questions and words with implications only meant so much. Proof was much more becoming and believable.

“Let me show you beyond the city,” she offered. Her hand came up so her fingers brushed against his that lingered after placing the flower in her hair. They both dropped but he timidly intertwined their fingers and motioned for her to lead the way.

They were stopped before they could get in motion and for a heart pounding moment Calum was worried it was Ashton and their deal would be negated or another getaway would have to ensue. Though the voice was masculine it was different and called out her name instead of his.

“Alena.”

She turned and Calum moved with her, held his breath and kept his head low, hoping that whoever it was would pay as little mind to his identity as she had the previous night. The man didn’t bat a blue eye at Calum, only kept an apologetic gaze on Alena and shook his head somberly as he took her in. Calum was confused and waiting for more of their interaction to transpire.

“Luke,” she said with a courteous head nod and much to Calum’s surprise she didn’t untangle their fingers.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he offered and Calum stayed silent, simply watching the way Luke’s eyes fluttered to her sling and recalled words of being dropped and replaceable. “How long will you be out?”

“A few weeks”—she began and shot Calum a look that playfully turned to a smirk—“guess it will give me a break. Don’t worry about it.”

Luke nodded, left well enough alone, and headed for the performer’s door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

The door shut and Alena turned them back to the venture they were setting out on before being interrupted. Before Calum could question her about the exchange and affirm his suspicions she launched into an explanation laced with nonchalance. “He missed his cue last night. Timing was off. It was just an accident.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” Calum muttered, remembering the way she called him out for not noticing something that happened within the first five minutes of the performance.

“Wish you’d seen me fall?” She asked with a narrowed gaze that set nerves alive in Calum’s bloodstream until it was all followed by a giggle that fell unabashedly from petaled lips.

Calum blew out a breath of relief that relaxed his accidentally tensed shoulders, her banter was unwieldy and took him off guard. He’d never had such open conversation with someone so unafraid to speak their mind and make jokes. Calum let their journey pass by his peripheral vision as he kept his gaze trained on her, head slightly shifted to his left, corners of his lips begging to turn up but he kept his cool as she led him along. As promised their journey led them away from the city and the crowds of people that pooled into the streets. Calum appreciated the quiet as they left buildings and gatherings behind in favor of towering trees and grass up to their knees with paths inlaid by steps walked before them. Flowers bloomed along the trails and Calum wondered if this had any connection to the cart overflowing with petals.

“Where are we?” Calum asked though there was a feeling inside of him that told him he didn’t really mind wandering into the unknown with her.

Alena stopped and so Calum did too; the hold their hands held finally broke as she spun and her back was to walls of flowers. The sun casted golden shadows and glows that highlighted her in all of her glory. Silver scar faced the world and Calum, put questions in his head—ones he was determined to ask before their day together was up.

“I used to come here all the time,” she explained with a shy smile and cheeks that held a faint blush of rosy color. “My brothers and I used to run through the field. It was the only place to escape the city. That or running into another one. I thought you might like it here; no crowds, no boring ballets or royal guards.”

“I do,” he admitted around a smile. Her assumption was spot on.

Calum wished he had a place like this back in his kingdom but all of his hiding spots were known to Ashton, all of his escapes were mapped out. Usually he didn’t mind Ashton following, he knew it was his job and if push came to shove his protection might be necessary. But there were days and nights—like this one and last—where Calum craved alone time, wanted a solace to himself to sink into the shadows or the sun on his own. Being alone with Alena felt better than being alone by himself; or at least he was guessing.

“What’s your kingdom like?” Alena asked out of the blue, head tilting with her curiosity as she looked him up and down and awaited his answer.

Calum paused for a moment; just a slice of trepidation cutting through him at her newfound curiosity about his kingdom. She hadn’t so much as uttered a word about him being a prince since dangling his lies in front of his face with a sarcastic ‘your highness’. He searched her face, noted the dimple that deepened on her cheek as she pursed her lips and the slight arch of her right eyebrow as she waited.

“A lot like this one, I suppose,” Calum answered with apprehension. “Except we have the sea.”

A look of wonder and delight captured her, shone in her eyes as she approached him with slight and slow steps. “I’ve never seen the sea.”

“There’s a view from my quarter’s windows,” Calum explained and felt himself loosen up; her curiosity was pure, voice soothing as his anxieties filtered away as she broke into a grin.

“I assume that’s lovely,” she commented with a dreamy gaze at the feild expanded out all around them. Calum assumed she was picturing waves within the grass, ripples of water instead of petals and glistening highlights of the sun. “Have you ever sailed before?”

“A few times,” Calum answered and let out a small chuckle. “Why so many questions?”

“It’s called conversation.”

Calum continued laughing at her witty and fast remark. Her grin broadened at his response yet a bite of sass crossed her face and danced within her eyes.

“Then I deserve to ask you some questions too,” Calum quipped and moved around her, circled past her and came to a stop where she once had her back to the flowers.

“Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

They were stood close, a summer breeze of distance between them. The fingers that fell from the sling curled in and her free hand settled on the fabric of her skirt. Calum hesitated, collected his words to ask as gently as possible, raised his hand slowly to keep his touch as soft as possible. His index finger grazed silver.

“How did this happen?” He asked in a whisper.

Alena sighed and slightly pulled away from him. “Except that.”

A beat of pause ensued between them and Calum felt his heart drop to his stomach as his throat tightened. He hadn’t meant to overstep. He went to apologize, words tight but she came back to him and the shake of her head jolted him.

“I’m only joking. I don’t have an answer. I don’t remember; I was too young, I can’t recall a time it wasn’t there.”

“You’ve never asked anyone about it?”

“What good would knowing do?”

“You could explain it to your soulmate,” Calum offered around a nervous shake of his head and fingers curling into his palms.

“Aren’t soulmates a little far fetched?” She asked without hesitation or flinching. “Even if there is someone out there perfectly matched with all the same scars, who’s to say you’ll ever meet them? The world is much bigger than that.”

Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded though he didn’t agree. At one point in time he held those thoughts, just last night he was stuck in a world where soulmates were outranked by royal bloodlines. But morning gave him new perspective and a need to know; to try and chase that person, to see if Alena was that person. Everything inside of Calum wanted to scream that she was, but maybe that was foolish and derived from finally being treated as a person and not feared or catered to as a royal.

Alena gave him a soft and inviting look as she settled into the grass, dress splaying out around her lap as she crossed her legs and used her free hand to pat the grass beside her. Her words on soulmates were conversation and she seemingly welcomed Calum’s response—whether or not she agreed with it. Calum knelt down, settled at her side and felt the earth beneath him, the dampness of dirt and the dew collected on blades, he didn’t mind, not when Alena shifted to face him full on and tilted her head to the side; golden glows finding her silver scar.

“What if you did meet them?” Calum inquired with a raised eyebrow and pure intrigue carrying his words. “Would you deny them?”

She pondered that for a moment and Calum was glad to see she was receptive to his criticism of her thoughts. She blew out a breath. “No, I suppose not. But coincidence is quite convincing.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“What if you truly believed you found the one but it was all coincidence in timing and placement? Are we truly that quick to be persuaded? Are we that desperate for a validated love that all it takes is marks in the same places? What if the one you found was coincidence and the one for you was still out there?”

Calum had never considered her elaboration but her words cut deep and left swirling uncertainties ghosting through his thoughts; he was sure they would haunt him for nights to come. The line on his leg tingled and his chest warmed to that of a small inferno; something inside of him told him that she was wrong.

“Wouldn’t you just know? Don’t you think you’d be able to feel something and know it’s true?”

Calum was asking her on account of wondering for himself. He didn’t quite understand the mysterious workings of the universe or the powers that may be. Alena paused and Calum could see the way she collected her thoughts and wished he could understand the way her mind worked. He caught the flicker of brown and hazel eyes, the way they darted from him to the flowers and back again, the slight narrowing as she contemplated.

“Perhaps that feeling is drowned out by the power of persuasion and thinking you know. Maybe I’m an idealist and want to believe I fell in love because I fell in love; not because some unknown power told me that I should.”

Calum was finally understanding and thought that he maybe even agreed, but there was still something inside of him that lingered with deflating hope and broken and splintered shards of optimism.

“What if you could have both?” He asked and inched just a touch closer. She responded in kind and the distance between them became so minimal Calum could feel the warmth of her collide with him. “What if you could fall in love first and then be reassured by that unknown power?”

“That sounds”—she turned away from him and lost herself in the field of flowers—“unrealistic. Too good to be true.”

Calum let the conversation go in that moment. Let the breeze drifting past take it away from them and instead focused on the tendrils of hair that became one with the wind and the way the scent of her carried through the air. The flower tucked behind her ear held on, folded with the breeze but stayed in place and only lost a petal. Calum nearly reached out to save it between delicate fingertips but kept his hands down. Their walk out to the field and questions turned to conversation hadn’t taken up much of the day—Calum was grateful for that and for their deal—though time felt endless and too fast all in the same breath.

“Any other plans for the day?” Calum asked, voice suddenly soft and implying it was okay for her to believe the way she did. “Anywhere else you’d like to show me?”

“Actually, yes,” she responded and Calum swore she lifted herself to the tops of her toes as she got up and spun around and away from him. She didn’t explain, didn’t wait or look back for him as she began to take off; merely trusted that he was following and so he did.

The field broke away into a tree line, mossy grounds took place of dew filled grass and sunlight filtered in through branches that dominated the sky. Foliage fell from branches and littered the grounds in muted greens that blended in with the path they walked. Wind carried through the trees and saccharine and petals followed after them. The walk was shorter than their first and soon enough Calum heard running water, Alena stopped and kneeled down, beckoned him over with a sideways glance and small motion of her hand.

The stream was small and wildflowers that thrived with water littered the edges. Alena looked peaceful as her fingertips grazed over the cool water, Calum settled beside her and followed suit; felt the coolness on his skin and reveled in the simplicity of the act. Never had he a moment alone when by the water. It was either crowded ships or lines of guards that ran up and down the shoreline. Being alone with her and the small stream was born of dreams and fantasies Calum never usually allowed himself to linger on for too long. He got a bit lost in the notion as he built worlds around such a simple desire. It was a flick of water that splashed across his cheek that brought him back to reality.

“Gotcha,” Alena laughed and sent another small splash of water towards him.

Her daring moves and unabashed nature around him was welcomed; but her warfare of water could not go without a fight. Calum splashed some her way, enjoyed the small gasp that left her followed by another laugh and flick of water. They became fixed on splashing each other and with only one arm available for the fight Alena quickly surrendered, lone hand raised to the sky—a metaphorical white flag waving in the wind. Calum took mercy and dropped himself away from the stream where a line of sunlight filtered in through a break in the branches. His skin was cool from the water but he was warming quickly. She joined him silently and wiped water from her eyes and inspected her now soaking wet sling.

“I didn’t think about that,” Calum mumbled as he moved closer to try and be of some assistance to the issue. She waved him off.

“I started it. It’s alright if I don’t move it. I can let it dry in the sun.” She was gentle and careful in removing her sling, practiced movements guiding the way, let the soaked cloth drop from it’s support as her arm very slowly eased back down to her side. She laid it beside her in the face of the light.

An identical line of bruising ran up her forearm and Calum was winded for a moment. But doubts began to plague him in the form of coincidence. With her words on soulmates he wasn’t sure what to believe, he wasn’t sure she’d want to know—she wanted to fall in love for love not for the notion that something told her she should. Calum stayed quiet as they laid back in the grass, enjoyed the lack of noise—the contrast to his usual daily life was striking and inviting.

The day bled on in swirls of clouds as their refuge away from the city went undisturbed. Calum knew Ashton would be looking for him but also covering for him with the court and whatever duties he was supposed to be filling for the day. There was another invitation to somewhere he didn’t want to go that laid ahead for the night. As much as he always wished to skip out on such occasions a sense of duty always brought him around. Evening was approaching and though Calum knew he should make another appearance before the moon was out and highlighted his absence that much more he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to Alena.

“You’ve shown me your world, how about I get to show you mine now?” He asked, head turning, grass rustling with the motion.

They were still laid out in the grass, reveling in the quiet and making idle conversation. It was much less than that of the possibilities of soulmates but stories from childhood filled the air and time between them. Calum laughed at the tales she told, yearned for a life like it, and wished hollowed and echoing palace walls might someday be replaced with those of a home. That a marriage wouldn’t just be a union for power but a commitment with a soulmate.

“You want me to see your world?” She asked with an arched eyebrow and crooked smile. She sat up slowly, reached for her sling and stopped short. “Only if you help me first.”

“Anything for you,” he quipped and moved to take the now dried and warm cloth in his hands.

She shifted, slowly brought her arm back into place and let him wrap it into position and tie it in place. His eyes may have taken in the bruise that once stained his skin and committed it to memory. His touch may have lingered for a just a moment longer than necessary and she may have pressed closer into the smooth feeling of his fingertips on her exposed skin, he may have felt the gentle beat of her heart as he pulled away. But it didn’t matter. Her views on soulmates and his duties to his kingdom negated any possibilities that might have played through his mind.

He brought her back to the lavish accommodations her city provided. Watched the wonder in her eyes and realized she’d never been through the doors or seen the marble intricacies. One of his hands found the small of her back and the other pointed up at the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She peered up and shook her head in disbelief.

“Your world costs a lot more than mine,” Alena muttered.

“My world made ours collide,” he offered and when she looked at him in confusion he went on, “if it weren’t for an invitation I couldn’t refuse I never would have been at the ballet. You never would have found me loitering at your exit.”

“Then thank the crown for that,” she responded in awe as she took in surroundings she had never seen before. For a moment Calum envisioned what wonder and awe might capture her at the view of the ocean from his lands. Wondered if she might try to drown him in splashes playfully and completely forget and disregard his title.

“Calum,” his advisor's voice rang through the space, it was high pitched and grating—his name always followed by an order or as his advisor put it; a suggestion. At times he felt less an advisor and more a keeper. “You have a dinner to attend.”

“Yes, Charles. I know, Charles,” Calum responded as he always did.

“I best be going,” Alena said in a breathy whisper. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Calum asked before she could so much as turn to leave.

“Perhaps you’ll catch me at the flower cart,” she said nonchalantly and spun on her heel; the grace of a ballerina carrying her movement. “Sometime in the morning.”

Calum grinned as he watched her walk away, waited for the doors to close behind her and wished he had the power to invite her to the dinner. But it wasn’t his. He was a visitor and even in his own kingdom he often felt he had no say, no rule, no true authority until a prince’s crown was replaced by that of a king’s. Ashton took up a silent presence beside Calum; stealth and the art of surprise bringing about his return.

“You enjoy her company,” Ashton stated. “I’ve never seen you so smitten.”

“I do. It’s too bad nothing will ever come of it. My parents and the court would never allow it.”

“Perhaps they would if you tell them she’s your soulmate,” Charles’ nasally voice was finally a welcome sound that punctuated a sentence that made Calum crane his neck and shoot a look of confusion his way. Charles hadn’t seen the bruise. Charles pointed to the corner of his eye; right where a silver crescent accented hazel on Alena. “You had the same when you were just three years old. Scared the living daylights out of your mother. She thought something happened and it was yours; but it faded by morning and all signs pointed towards your soulmate.”

“I don’t think that it’s enough,” Calum said around a sigh and waved off their curiosity; an explanation of coincidence and finding love by falling didn’t seem so easy to explain or understand within regal halls and limited time.

He left for for the dinner, found himself surrounded by the royals that ruled Alena’s kingdom and felt a sinking and sneaking suspicion start to shroud him. This was no usual diplomatic gathering. The presence of a princess and sneaking glances built assumptions in Calum’s mind that he would place his crown on being true. A royal set up.

***

Dreams of moonlit scars and fading bruises graced Calum all through the night. When he woke a lingering ache burned through his chest and before he even realized what he was doing or where he was going he found sunlight on cobblestone streets and an abandoned flower cart. Alena was nowhere to be seen and the ache that built from a lonely night and morning only intensified. Ashton had followed but kept a more respectable distance this time. He now knew that Calum was chasing a question born of tales as old as the earth itself. Was she truly his soulmate? Was it coincidence? Could falling be achieved nonetheless?

“Good morning.” Her voice was soft but strong as it sprung up behind him and had him turning quickly to face her.

A new bundle of flowers laid within a woven basket she carried with her free hand. Yellow and blue were the colors that graced the morning and cart, petals overflowing and spilling everywhere. They reminded Calum of sunrise over the ocean on mornings when nothing particular called him away from himself. He greeted her with a smile and offered a hand in helping with the basket and placing new flora around the cart. She was gracious and grateful as she accepted the help. Her dress that morning was white; a soft cotton that clung to her and fell below her knee, showed scuffed shoes and had small stitch work of petals at the hem, cuffed sleeves and a draped bow neckline before buttons finished down the dress. Calum grinned as he took in the sight and decided everything about it screamed Alena.

“Up for another adventure today?” He asked and watched as her concentration of arranging flowers broke, hazel and brown eyes finding his with a playful narrowing. “You didn’t get to see much of my world yesterday.”

“Are you trying to impress me with fancy places and expensive pleasures only a prince can afford?” She quipped with a sarcastic smile and went on, “I can’t be bought you know.”

“I’m always trying to impress you. Never because of my title,” he replied in a murmur and let his eyes dart around the growing crowd.

It was earlier than the previous morning. Less people lingered and filled the city but there was still a bite of anxiety about his world being spoken so candidly and so freely. He still wanted to blend into the crowd. Alena picked up on his shifting gaze and awkward plea to keep his secret.

“I understand,” she said and leaned over the cart to whisper words only he could hear. “But if you’re looking to keep your status a secret your clothes are an easy tell.”

Calum looked down at his outfit curiously. It was as simple as his admittedly extravagant wardrobe allowed. A lace up shirt and slacks, dark shoes and a leather cap to keep the sun from him. He cocked his head to the side and waited for further elaboration but Alena pulled back and got lost in the job in front of her.

“We can leave in a moment,” she said and just like the day before Calum spotted her father just up the way.

He wondered about him, about her comment from the first night and how her parents were the reason she was in the ballet. The man looked kind but any chance to further investigate the situation was cut short when Alena rounded the cart and on instinct Calum offered her arm to walk along. Calum thought about what her father might think; if he cared his daughter was walking off with a near stranger or if Alena had an explanation that quelled any uncertainties that may have aroused from their situation.

It’d only been two days but Calum felt she wasn’t a stranger. Matching scars and coincidence set aside there was something inside Calum that told him all he needed to know. A lingering ache in his chest when he was away from her, a warmth that danced across his skin at contact with her, an easy feeling of the world coming together with clashing colors.

They began walking and Calum realized his world was much closer to hers than he first thought. At least in the sense of where his world allowed him to stay within the confines of her city. He couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled within him ever since the dinner last night. The prospect of it made his skin crawl though he had anticipated a marriage set up for most of his life. He had seen his older sister already face the consequences of what royal bloodlines entailed. She had run away from it; found her soulmate within their kingdom and fled the night before her wedding to a prince she didn’t know, didn’t love, didn’t have a soul purpose of finding and being with.

Alena was a calming presence by his side, her soft hold on his offered arm shot warmth and ease through Calum’s bones. Just enough so to drown out the impending doom of diplomacy that lingered and swayed with the weight of worlds and power above his head. He brought her back to his accommodations, slowed down within the halls to watch her wonder and disbelief gather on her face; to see the light from chandeliers sparkle within deep brown and hazel.

They snuck through the halls with Ashton trailing them at a respectable distance; once within his own private quarters they were afforded another piece of time that was completely alone.

“My place of holding for the time being,” Calum said as an introduction to the space.

Alena walked the perimeter of the room in silence; stopped to cast a gaze out the window that overlooked the entire city line. A gentle and poised hand lightly touched the grand drapes that shrouded the window. Alena was backlit by the glow of the morning; a perfect silhouette in the new light. As she paused to take in the view Calum paused to take her in, search for more identifiable marks that might grace her skin. A silver scar and line of bruising feeling like it wasn’t convincing enough to bypass coincidence, to prove to her or the court; though they were enough to convince Calum.

“This is more than I could ever show you,” she said in a low voice that edged on the verge of resignation.

Calum wandered to her, stopped short just behind her and for the first time truly looked out to the city below. It was vast and made him feel smaller. All of the power he supposedly held felt insignicant. If a royal set up was truly in the works then more power would be gained and the smaller Calum would feel. He looked back at Alena, all of those insecurities and doubts washing away into multicolored ease. She was soft and subtle as she peered at him in curiosity. It was easy to find silence and solace with her. Just a gaze was enough to settle him but Calum saw her own anxieties in a bitten lip as she gazed across the room once more.

“All of the glitz and glamor wears off,” Calum explained and tried to bite back a forlorn sigh but it escaped him in a small and quiet huff. “You could show me much more than this.”

Calum pointed down a line in the city, was thankful that her eyes followed and settled on a path that led away from it all. A small grin lifted the corners of her mouth and a shine in her eyes told Calum his explanation was well received. Their day in the field and under the cover of leaves and branches meant much more than a lavish and luxe lifestyle Calum didn’t sign up for—one that he resented at times.

“And I’m sure you could show me much more beyond that,” he concluded and felt her behind him, the sway of her hip bringing her to brush against him. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“It’s very fine fabric, it’s not what we wear in the city but what we make for people above us. It’s easy to see”—she explained and didn’t hesitate to turn and grip the shoulder material of his shirt—“even easier to feel.”

Her hold didn’t drop and Calum was reminded of their first night together. A lost scroll pinned to his chest and her hand keeping it there. He arched an eyebrow and blew out a small laugh.

“I see you still have a habit of not letting me go,” he quipped in a whisper and reveled in the way she didn’t pull back, only smirked and stood on the tops of her toes to bring them to a more even eye level. “Might you reconsider attending that royal gathering?”

The words left Calum before he could stop them. The invitation was clear and hung in the minimal space between them. The knowledge of a scar gracing his eye pushed him to do it, his parents arrival into her city for the ball harbored questions and possible solutions, the prospect of marrying someone who didn’t light fires inside him or bare the same scars fueled his desire to fight back.

“I’m not sure,” she said in an airy and playful tone. “Is Thomas inviting me or is it Calum this time? Should I drop by or am I properly invited?”

“I’d like you to go with me, Calum, properly.”

“Then I suppose I can reconsider. For Calum.”

“It’s the night after next,” Calum reminded, knowing she merely glanced at the scroll when he offered it to her the first time.

Alena didn’t say anything, didn’t move or break eye contact that held so easily it felt like breathing. Calum was caught up in the moment and the thought of seeing Alena nearly drowned out all the troubles that might arise from his brash invitation. With new knowledge of a possible arragngment with this kingdom, a princess who eyed him and his crown, and two courts that would make decisions in tandem with each other Calum felt the need to shrink back and flee from her touch. But her eyes brought him in, pulled him under and kept him breathing underwater.

A subtle smile shone through the silence and slow movements filled every minuscule edge and gap between them. The world spun in slow motion, Calum’s arm and corner of his eye tingled with remembrance he couldn’t actually recall but he reveled in the feel of her lips against his. It lit him up form the inside out, a small inferno turning into a wildfire that spread heat and certainty through his body, to his heart and rippling through his soul.

The city out the window became a blur when eyes fluttered back open and modesty tinged cheeks pink. Her hand had not fallen from the shoulder of his shirt but her fingers loosened and splayed out, edged the fabric away from his skin on accident and eyes fluttered to Calum’s own silver scar. It was much less noticeable than the one that settled on Alena’s skin. Forgettable to even Calum, but her eyes took it in for all the jagged line was worth. Calum held his breath as a whirlwind of thoughts plagued him. It was the first of his own marks she had ever witnessed.

“What is this?” She asked, a tone of allure and disbelief swept into the whirlwind surrounding Calum. “How’d you get it?”

Her questioning was nearly identical to Calum’s in the field. Her curiosity screamed and simmered between them. Calum bit his lip as she left a gentle trail of fingertips under his collarbone. He didn’t flinch, kept his breath held as she wandered his skin and waited for his answer.

“It used to be much worse,” Calum started, thankful the wound had healed and the placement was not any lower, not life threatening the way his parents and the entire kingdom surrounding him made it out to be. “It was just an accident. A few years ago. Tip of a blade pressed a little too hard.”

Alena’s eyes were insightful and her touch fell away from him; his breath coming back in a rush. He watched her step away, felt the distance that she enforced and heard the sounds of the city like static filling the air between them.

“I had the same, for a day,” she admitted and her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and a small shake of her head told Calum she was trying to reason with her stance on soulmates.

“Coincidence,” Calum said though he didn’t believe it for a moment. “It’s pretty powerful you know.”

The shake of her head turned to a nod and her hand found the strap of her sling. She gripped it with white knuckle force as her beliefs began collapsing around her. Watching new belief be born was slow and painful and beautiful and every contradiction under the sun and moon. Calum cleared his throat and pulled the fine fabric of his slacks near his knee, bending just slightly to roll his pant leg up.

“What about this one?” He inquired and watched as her eyes swept from ankle to knee.

She sucked in a breath and Calum heard the way it caught in her throat. Belief came hard and fast in that moment, crumbling walls that sheltered her from knowing a world with love finally fell.

“I should go,” she announced out of nowhere; the spell she was under breaking just like her old beliefs, the twirl of her dress guided her away from Calum who was quick to right himself and chase after her. “I need to think.”

“Alena,” Calum tried and felt the fire inside him start to snuff out as she pushed open the wooden door and made her way into the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and lit just one flicker of hope in Calum’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words bid Calum a sorrowful goodbye.

***

Alena left and Calum was thrust back into the role of a prince. Thrown back into the face of a princess who wore pink that was too bright, a smile that was too fake and selfish intentions on extravagant sleeves. Calum couldn’t help but compare her to Alena. Her eyes were dull in comparison to hazel and brown. Her hair was done up to perfection but left nothing to be desired if the breeze ever touched her. Soft skin cornering his eye ran fiery yet cold and held a dull ache in Alena’s absence and the princess’ presence. Just above his heart tingled and the line down his leg ached with pain he hadn’t felt in ages.

Ashton stood diagonal to Calum at another invitation to a dinner he couldn’t refuse. He saw the very subtle humor that crossed his guard’s face at the boisterous princess who didn’t quite have a grasp on personal space or polite conversation. The dinner droned on but an escape eventually found Calum when the meal finally disappeared and an excuse of it being late fell from his lips. He excused himself as cordially as he could and dodged forms of affection from the princess he didn’t want from anyone but Alena. Ashton walked with Calum back to his quarters.

“She’ll make a lovely bride,” Ashton commented—his observational and reasoning skills unparalleled. He must have rationalized the reason for the trip as well. Calum whipped around toward him, his disdain cutting across his face without censorship. “Though Alena would be better suited.”

Calum’s eyes shot wide at Ashton’s words and his heart thudded painfully against his rib cage. Pulse points came alive at the picture of Alena as a bride. Heat coursed through him and simmered with desires.

“Try convincing my parents and the court of that.”

Ashton cleared his throat and gave Calum an inquisitive look.

“Why don’t you?”

“They’d never agree,” Calum mused with regret and a harbored anger that finally came out. “A princess outweighs a soulmate. Just as a prince outranked a soulmate.”

Ashton understood Calum’s words; had been there the night his sister made her escape to live on her own terms.

“They could have stopped her,” Ashton said with a shrug. “They let her go. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.”

“They let her go?”

Ashton smirked. “An entire royal guard against two desperately feeling people? Do you really think they made it out on their own? We were told to stand down, let them pass peacefully. They could have made her stay.”

Calum had never considered that; didn’t know how she made her escape or where she went. It startled him to realize she made it out not of her own volition but because they let her go. But there were differences in the problems they faced. His sister was to marry and inherit a different kingdom. He was to rule his birth land, to take the crown from his father and create heirs to keep the line of succession strong. To keep their blood in power.

“It’s different.”

“Possibly. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

***

Calum worried that he wouldn’t see Alena again. That his revealed truths had scared her away and her time to think was just an excuse to get away. She was not at the flower cart when the sun rose into the sky; a flicker of flame lighting up the city in an orange haze. Disappointment lingered within Calum, made stone walls around his heart as he stood across the street with a watchful eye scanning pink petals. Her father manned the cart, brought new life to the woodwork and took her place entirely.

Calum sighed and shook his head at Ashton. He rolled up his sleeves and wished a fine line of purple still graced his skin, wished he could remember a silver scar that accentuated his eye, wished he had a memory of her forever with him; not just for a fleeting moment. He turned on his heel, took a few small steps, heard Ashton following but stopped short. Honey hair and clashing eyes came in a whirlwind up the street. Alena ran to him, out of breath and hair in disarray; perfectly unkept, dress wrinkled and eyes painted with a sleepless night. Her sling hung a bit more slack than the previous days.

“Leaving so soon?” She asked around an attempt to catch her breath. “Before I could see you again?”

“Never,” Calum responded automatically and felt the aches that had harbored within him during her absence start to ease.

“Can we go somewhere… private?” She asked and let her eyes flicker over to Ashton and then around the bustling city. “I think we need to talk.”

Calum nodded and gestured for her to lead the way; wanted her to make the decision and find somewhere she was comfortable talking with him. He hoped all her thoughts that seemingly kept her up at night would match with his own thoughts the way bruises and scars mirrored the other’s. A sliver of hope made a home with him as he recalled the way she responded to the lines that plagued Calum and the crumbling disbelief that captured her eyes. While Ashton usually would have followed he stayed back; knowing his absence for this moment was more appreciated than fulfilling his royal guard duties. Calum was safe with Alena; the only danger he faced was the pain of a broken heart and scattered pieces of a soul left to search and wander.

Alena led him away from the city again, back towards the meadow that was overrun with flowers that Calum could never forget. She was subtle and demure under the sun, hazel blended in with stems and grass that stood lively with the petals. Alena reached for his hand with her free one, traced lifelines on his palms and stared at his fingers quizzically.

“You burn your fingers,” she inquired and though it may have been a question it was more of a statement.

“Cigarettes,” Calum murmured and watched as her eyes flickered from the pads of his fingertips to his eyes.

“You should quit.”

“I know.”

“You get blisters on your palms,” she said once more and tapped the middle of his palm. Her finger was light and tickled his skin, made his hand react and wish to capture hers and keep it there.

“Swords,” Calum offered the one word as a simple explanation that she nodded to.

Alena blew out a breath and Calum watched as her shoulders dropped and a grimace of pain cut through her eyes. She went silent and introspective at the new knowledge of what scarred her soulmate and appeared on her own skin for a moment in time. She never felt his pain, perhaps a tingle when the worst of them appeared, but never a burn or biting pang. Calum hadn't either. Not until after she graced his world with poise and tip toes, not until after she left and static filled the distance between them with uncertainty and longing aches. He wondered if she felt them too.

“I suppose ballet explains the bruises you get on your legs,” he stated with confidence and took in her nod and subtle bite of her lip for all they were worth.

Coincidence was drowned out by confirmation. By the timing and the feeling of matching incidents. Coincidence was powerless to the running tingles and heat that flooded all the spots they came to know as each other. They knew each other and the moments that graced their bodies, could remember the smallest of marks and moments and now they knew what they meant and what they were from. But questions still built walls around them in a meadow of silence save for the occasional chirp of a bird overhead or rustle of leaves from the wind. They both stood still, her fingertips still settled on his palm and seemingly not going anywhere.

“What does this mean for us?” She wondered aloud and lit Calum’s nerves back to life. Fire coursed through his veins and warmed him with a blush of possible scenarios. “You’re a prince. I’m no princess.”

Calum swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the wind that was very fleeting in his lungs. He was breathless when he responded.

“You’re more than that”—he said as he brought their hands into a hold reminiscent of running away from a guard and to this very spot. Brought life back into shallow breaths and restored some peace that had been torn to shreds by a sleepless night of wonder. It was hard to believe that was only days ago. “You’re my soulmate.”

Alena paused again; seemingly collecting her thoughts as problems and complications faced them within a soothing summer breeze. The calm was eerie.

“Is that enough for you? For a kingdom?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You are everything and more.”

Alena took his words and nodded. He hoped that there was enough room for belief in her heart that she truly understood and accepted the meaning of his words. Down to every last syllable.

“What do we do?” She asked and for the first time Calum saw that her confidence was well and truly shaken.

She didn’t have answers or ideas for the questions and problems that laid ahead. She had no quick quips or sharp tongue to guide them out of the storm that was brewing on their horizons. Calum shook his head, just as perplexed as she was. He had vague ideas built on idealistic expectations that had no concrete backing to them. He had snippets of knowledge of his sister’s escape and the circumstances that allowed it. His thoughts spiraled mercilessly around his mind. The root of the problems laid within royal halls and crowns that tilted on his head and shifted the path of his life. He decided that’s where they should start to mend the breaks and cracks in the interwoven life they wanted to share.

Calum brought Alena back to his world, determined to ensure they could properly collide and become one. Michael—a man of Calum’s court—was at the doors and Ashton was coming out of the shadows of a corridor when they entered. Michael held an air of control, he was always chivalrous yet not bowing in Calum’s presence. He held his own, gave and got respect for the attitude that followed him. Calum nodded at him, his arm around Alena in a light hold so as not to disturb the injury still resting in a sling.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” Michael said after clearing his throat and fishing into his pocket. “I would have done it earlier today but you’ve been quite evasive.”

Calum’s eyes wandered to the small box in Michael’s palm—his fingers were still partially closed around it but velvet peeked through and set Calum’s predictions of what it was on edge. Calum stiffened at Alena’s side, his arm fell from around her and slowly reached out to take the offering a man in his court was entrusted to keep, carry and deliver during the trip. Calum’s worst fears were confirmed when the small box laid within his grasp and his thumb flipped the lid open. A diamond ring laid within the cushioning and a princess in pink infiltrated his thoughts—made his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach and freeze in its once rhythmic beating.

“Why?” He asked though he already knew the answer and didn’t realize how much he didn’t want Alena to hear it. “Why now?”

“For the princess,” Michael said but his words held no volition or authority; Calum wondered if he even wanted to say them. “The courts expect a proposal and a union. Tomorrow. At the gathering; a rather public and royal affair. It will look good.”

Calum felt the shift of Alena under his hold and hoped with every part of his soul that she wouldn’t flee and give him a proper chance to explain. She stayed silent and Calum couldn’t tell if that was a sign made of good or bad or the worst. Ashton stayed as poised as he could but Calum noted the subtleties only years of being shadows together could have given him; his left eyebrow raised just slightly at the edge, his mouth twitched minutely and he shot Calum a look that only the prince could read. He was worried for Calum, rarely showing emotion other than determination and caution.

“I’ll speak with them in the morning,” Calum said decisively, shut the box and handed it back to a surprised Michael who barely caught the velvet as Calum walked away with Alena thankfully still at his side.

He brought them back to his quarters and held his breath the entire way. He had no clue if anyone of importance lingered in the halls or had heard what transpired in the grand entrance. There was a part of him that hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone and that no one other than the four of them had heard, but, there was another part that wished for confrontation then and there. To clear the air and speak his piece. But no one showed face and the only to follow their footsteps and conversation was Ashton. Alena wasn’t warming to his hovering presence but she accepted him as they made way down the halls and made sure the door was shut behind them to afford them a semblance of privacy.

“So this is goodbye,” she whispered as she turned to face Calum from the door. Her eyes were downcast, brown and hazel shining with unshed tears in which she held in only from a practiced lifetime of composure and poise.

Calum frantically shook his head, breath leaving him in scattered falls. Alena was still, back to the door and body language closed off behind the sling with a hand gripping the strap with white knuckle force. Calum moved to her, chased the taste he knew he couldn’t last a lifetime without and broke his vows of silence for his complete disdain for the crown.

“No,” he said and felt the fight inside of him swell with heat that flickered and coursed through his veins like the rising sun. “This isn’t goodbye. It doesn’t have to be. We can find a way to be together.”

Alena looked past Calum, out into the extravagant room with a view of a city he may be forced to marry into spilling light through open drapes. To the place that mirrored Calum’s quarters back in his own palace so well it sent shivers up his spine at the intrusive thought of an obnoxiously pink princess standing within instead of Alena.

“We hardly even know each other,” she said in an unconvincing whisper.

Calum stiffened; her words enough to cause a reaction that ran bone deep, coursed flickering fires through his resolves and livened them tenfold. He knew her. He knew the intricacies of her life without explanation—the bumps and bruises, the scars and silences that ran maps over her body and connected her soul to his. The only thing that separated them was time. Time they spent in different worlds. Time that forced them to make rash decisions. Time that might be stolen away from them.

“I know what I want. I know who I want to chase after it with,” Calum said and kept his eyes pinned on her, the concept of freedom making a home in his heart right beside clashing eyes and a scar that was crescent and silver just like the moon. “We know each other. Deep down. And if given the chance we can keep getting to know each other.”

Alena pursed her lips and Calum watched the crash of emotions that riddled her. A small breath left her lips. Her hand fell from her sling and invited him closer to her. Settled at the press of a blade that travelled the universe to find her. Her fingertips were light against the material of his shirt but he felt heat build under his skin. Fires came to life at the contact. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and Calum welcomed her as she stepped into his embrace, cheek resting against a scar they shared and her injured arm awkwardly shifted into the fray. Calum yearned to be able to hold her properly one day, feared that one day might never come, that a pink princess would be given her place in his arms—but never his heart.

“It’s only been a few days. You’ll go tomorrow. You’ll find your princess, you’ll bring her home and make her a wife and a queen. I’ll stay here. And maybe someday you’ll come back to the ballet and we’ll find each other again, if only for a passing moment,” Alena said in a soft whisper that landed chills up Calum’s spine. Her breath was warm against his skin but the prospect of her words left him chilled. The thought of distance already made all of the places she touched with soul connections ache.

“I don’t want to be with a princess. You would just give up on us? Sacrifice all that our souls are meant to have? Each other?” Calum questioned with fire behind his words but he stayed calm in her embrace, enjoyed the feeling of her pressed against him; a taunting feeling that it would be short lived driving him to soak up every moment of it.

“That’s what soulmates do. They love you enough to make sacrifices. You were born to be a king,” she explained and Calum caught the note of sadness that captured her voice and shook her sentences apart.

He believed she would make that sacrifice. But it wasn’t one he was willing to watch or have her bare the pain of. He wondered if she felt the burning cool on scars and the reborn ache of pain lived long ago when they were apart. He couldn’t imagine being the cause to the pain or the distance that would enforce it.

“I was born to be with you,” he refused, the title of king much less meaningful than finding the one and fulfilling a lifetime with them.

They were lucky. As Alena had pointed out there was no certainty to finding each other; no promise scars didn’t come as coincidence and a lifetime could be spent with the wrong person. Calum was sure of who they were to each other and what he wanted. He couldn’t let that slip between his fingers or fade away into a royal city’s night sky.

“You can’t have both.”

“I don’t want both. I’ve never wanted to be king. I don’t want to rule anything but my own life. With a crown I never will; I’ll still be a puppet. There’s a line of succession. They don’t need me, they just need a body to sit on the throne and fill the gaps,” he explained in a rush and felt the wind get taken from his lungs. He was running on low to try and convince her. She pursed her lips in contemplation at his long held admission. He’d never truly voiced his disdain for the crown before. Not out loud. “Run away with me.”

“Where would we go?” She wondered aloud with just a a touch of wanderlust and curiosity biting through her words.

“Anywhere. We can find the world together.”

They’d already showed each other pieces of their respective worlds. An exit meant only for a performer and a force that made her a ballerina. A meadow with flowers and a stream that helped laughter and childhood stories echo around a forest. Marble hallways and golden chandeliers strung up so high only angels could touch them; disdain for a world that neither one chose.

“It’s not that simple. We can’t just up and leave our lives without regard. What of our families, the ballet, everything surrounding us? Do you really think they would just let you leave?”

Alena hadn’t said no, just given reasons to slow down and think. But Calum felt time to ponder was frivolous and slipping away from them. The ball was tomorrow night and his parents arrival in the morning would mark time that need not be wasted. If they were to escape, if they were to prove soulmates and find a way to stay, they needed to act fast. No matter what they did, time was not on their side.

“My sister did it. She fled. We could too,” Calum admitted and smiled at his sister’s bravery and determination to live a life she chose. He often wondered where she ended up but knew that it being anywhere other than a castle and a prop to a court would ensure her happiness. “Or we could try convincing them. You could be my queen.”

Alena lapsed into silence, hazel and brown filled with contemplation. Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink and her breath staggered once before evening out in her consideration. The corners of her lips turned down and Calum could sense she was seeing a life she didn’t want pass by her eyes. He didn’t understand how they could be so connected; want the same things and yet be world’s apart in attaining them. She blinked slowly, hooded lids fluttering with eyelashes that casted shadows along her cheekbones. She let out a sigh and buried herself against him.

“Think on it for the night. No matter what we decide, we’re not ready yet.”

“Will you stay?” Calum asked and felt the painful pause of his heartbeat against the moment it took for her to decide.

“Yes. We should make the most of tonight. In case it’s our last.”

***

Morning came much too soon for Calum’s liking. He had barricaded himself and Alena in his quarters. Kept her hidden in the shadows when advisors and his people made appearances at his door. He wanted to keep knowledge of their world to a minimum; to those who already knew—Ashton, Charles and a sneaking suspicion within Michael. They spent one night together. Days earlier it would have been more than Calum could have ever hoped for. Now there was a resolve that was ready to fight for all the nights and bliss filled mornings that mirrored each other’s desires. Alena was still asleep when Calum rose. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a honey halo, marks that bit into her skin thumped wildly with tension on Calum’s as well. If it weren’t for fingertips grazing and feeling tingles on purple Calum wouldn’t know which truly belonged to him, which were created by his lips and which were kissed by her.

Calum strode to the window and looked out to the city, the usual bustle he became one with felt far away from his high perch. The vendors were out and he knew flowers would be gracing a cart; Alena’s father tending the petals with a kind hand. When lust had been satiated and breaths began to even out; Alena tucked into Calum’s hold in the most comfortable position her injury allowed, they began talking. Calum thought back to the night they first met and the explanation of parents being her reason for joining the ballet.

He had asked her about it under the protection and serenity of moonlight with bliss still on their lips. She told him it was for them, to keep the memory of her mother alive in every step she took across the stage her mother once claimed. It was never her dream but one she was happy to afford her aging father. He had told her he’d love to see her perform again—and when she let out a dry laugh he corrected himself and promised to pay attention this time; knowing there was no way he’d ever take his eyes off of her. Calum had never heard an explanation so selfless, usually surrounded by those who did only for themselves. He turned to look back at her still warm under the covers, silent and still and a picture of perfection Calum wanted to memorize. He could have stayed right there for days but a soft knock on the other side of the door broke him of his reverie.

He made his way over to the door quickly, hoping it wouldn’t jar Alena from her sleep. He opened it carefully, slowly, made sure no creaks sounded through the morning. Ashton stood on the other side. Calum raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“The king and queen have arrived,” he explained and shot a look down the hall that made Calum react and flinch on instinct.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Calum said and shut the door; found clothes to put on and left Alena with one last look. When he was back in the hall he met Ashton’s eye and held his gaze to show the importance of his request. “Watch the door. Make sure no one goes in.”

Ashton nodded his understanding and Calum traipsed off down the hall in the direction Ashton’s eyes shot towards. He ran into Charles who directed him to the chambers the kingdom had graced his parents with. They weren’t expecting his hasty visit, were a bit shell shocked at their son’s promptness of their arrival. He was never one for punctuality unless it was led by the court and forced on his hands. Calum wasted no time with formalities—held onto hope that his parents would lend him their familial hearts and understand this was a matter of life and happiness. His sister’s escape instilled faith in him.

“I’ve met someone,” he stated and took in the slackened jaws and wide eyes at the bold claim.

“The princess?” His mother asked and bristled when Calum shook his head.

“My soulmate.”

Silence befell the chamber and somehow echoed around the high ceilings; played tricks within the shadows and settled heavily between the three. His father stood stoic and Calum could picture the crown that would be, could be, should be passed down sitting astray in a line of succession.

“We’ll talk to the court,” his father offered and it made Calum realize even as a king power would come with restriction and strings still attached to his every decision and movement. “Perhaps a different union can be arranged.”

Calum went breathless at the prospect. Recalled the flash of despair that captured Alena when she pictured a life on a throne by his side. Calum felt the same in regards to living a life under everyone else’s thumb. He had already endured it for years. Meeting Alena, running away into meadows and being afforded a fleeting taste of freedom told him what his heart truly desired.

“What if we don’t want the throne?” Calum asked in a rush and felt heat blaze through him, felt a pounding and throbbing that spanned from his ears to his temples. There was no time for his parents to answer as their advisor entered the room and a new discussion was born.

Calum phased in and out of the conversation that was about him and Alena. It was hard to pay attention even though the entirety of his future surrounded him in hushed whispers. He caught enough to know he didn’t like what he heard. The importance of uniting kingdoms, how the princess would be a lovely wife—that he scoffed at—and a learned queen to sit at his side. He left the room after refusing their words, making it apparent what he wanted and how willing he was to make it happen. His mother stopped him in the hall.

“Come to the ball tonight. We will figure something out, together,” she promised and while Calum was apt to believe her there was still doubt that made a home in his heart.

He offered a noncommittal shrug and made his way back to his quarters and Alena. Ashton stood with watchful eyes, back to the door and a professional stance of hands folded capturing him.

“Has anyone come around?” Calum asked.

“Michael passed by, he was looking for you; I told him you were with the king and queen. He still holds the ring.”

“He can keep it,” Calum mumbled and moved past Ashton as soon as he cleared the door and made room for him to slip through.

Calum stayed quiet though Alena was awake. She hadn’t moved from her comfortable embrace on the bed except to sit up and slip her dress back on. She was bleary eyed with tiredness born of a long and exhilarating night. Her hair fell in disarray that had Calum aching to run his fingers through. He approached the bed slowly, smiled on instinct when she smiled at him first. He kept words of the court inside, not wanting to worry her when his mind was already made up. Their chance to be together came before anything else, before minimal power afforded to him from crowns and thrones he had no interest in.

“You’re still going to the ball tonight, right?” Calum asked as he recalled his mother’s soothing words and promise. If all was going to be figured out then Alena needed to be there. She was everything in the grand scheme of things.

“Is that a good idea?” She wondered, the words stung Calum but her tone held no bite. She was downcast as the previous day and the ring Calum had refused came back to her. “I don’t think my invitation and presence will be well received.”

“It will be,” Calum promised and knew that even if it was just from him she would always be welcome in his world—no matter where that world may end up being. “Please come, for me.”

Alena slid across the bed and came closer to Calum as she let out an anxious breath but nodded her intention anyway. Calum bit back words from the advisor and suggestion to keep the unity between kingdoms with a marriage. It wasn’t for Alena to worry about. After the ball it wouldn’t be for Calum either. Either his mother’s words would come to fruition or a daring plan in the back of his mind would lead them to where they wanted to be. Together.

***

Alena’s kingdom spared no cost in the royal gathering. What was supposed to be a smaller occasion became grand and overcrowded with mingling people who were all too stuffy and boring for Calum’s liking. Ashton lingered in the crowd and Calum waited on his heels for the arrival of Alena. He picked a spot with a good vantage point of the front doors and an easy exit out the back. Music filled the overly decorated glitz and glamor of the ballroom. The princess offered eyes that spoke her knowledge of what the courts wanted at Calum. She fluttered her eyelashes and danced around him in an attempt to be inconspicuous and yet eye catching all the same. Calum all but brushed her presence off and completely abandoned her when familiar eyes found his.

Alena was stunning in a simple dress—soft orange clinging to her skin like a subtle sunrise—hair falling loose around her shoulders and a nervous smile all greeted Calum. Her sling still supported her injured arm. Calum knew eyes had flocked to her upon her arrival but many men and women of all status flooded the ballroom and it wasn’t her lack of royal blood that drew eyes. It was the grace and beauty that was so intricately her that made heads turn. She was hesitant to accept his embrace but ended up in his arms, spinning to the music that droned on behind them. Calum felt her poise, the easiness that carried her steps around the dance floor and the natural ability to be one with the music even with an injury holding her back. Calum’s hold was gentle and her gaze was soft as she peered up at him from under her lashes.

“I’m glad you came,” he admitted in a breathless whisper. He didn’t care who heard but her presence made his words and tone much softer than usual.

He knew what challenges laid ahead, what obstacles danced beside them with narrowed eyes and pursed overly pink lips. Calum didn’t want to waste any time in fighting for their futures but the moment was too good to let go of; she was too close to be anywhere else but in his arms. He savored it a moment longer. The rest of the people blended into the crowd and became a murmur in the background. Eventually he found the will to lead her away from the crowd, up towards the resting place for a king and queen of another land that were too weary to mingle among people that were not yet united to them. His parents sat above the crowd with regal posture and eyes that watched everything, broke away from it all to take in the sight of their son with his soulmate on his arm.

“This is Alena,” he introduced timidly; tip toeing on the splintered hope of a promise his mother made in the morning. “My soulmate.”

“We gathered that,” his mother said softly and Calum saw the way she took in Alena. She tried not to stare at the scar that once graced her son’s skin but it was a shock of evidence that commanded her attention. “She’s lovely.”

The compliment felt sincere but flat and missing a roundabout excuse and reason that it didn’t matter who she was so long as it wasn’t a princess. His father eyed Alena less carefully, his broad shoulders straightened as he shook his head minutely.

“The courts still find it in the best interest of all if a proposal is given tonight,” his father’s words came crashing down—that reason falling hard and fast; it was one his mother had much too soft a heart to break the news of.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Alena said quietly but Calum heard the break of her words as she broke the hold he had on her and slipped away with quick steps back into the crowd.

“I’m going after her,” Calum proclaimed, eyes skirting the crowd to keep her in his sights as he stood his ground.

“The courts find a union with the princess important, perhaps your cousin might be a more suitable match. We cannot stop you should you go,” his father finished and restored that broken shard of a promise they had lent him.

“We only have enough men to guard us tonight,” his mother explained with a wry smile and a tilt of her head out to the crowd—permission to go after what he truly wanted laying within the subtle motion.

Calum expressed his gratitude with one last hug and took off, searched through the crowd and bypassed a princess who was prone to invading his personal space. She was crestfallen at his rejection but her facade of affection would be easily replaced for the next man that wore a crown she wanted to sit by. Calum made a beeline for a side exit; a beautiful arching and round door leading him outside stone walls. Alena lingered quietly—oblivious to Calum’s presence—back pressed to the stone and fingers lightly stroking just above her heart.

“You know, this is a prince’s exit only,” Calum declared in much the same tone Alena had taken the first night they met.

She twirled around, eyes blown wide and gleaming with moonlight and tears that Calum wouldn’t allow to fall. He moved to her, felt every essence of her that ever graced his skin start to warm and tingle beneath the surface. She was more than skin deep to him; she was innate and ran through his bloodstream, pumped his heart with purpose and prospects of a life he wanted to chase after.

“What’s wrong?” He asked though he knew exactly what she would say, he could feel it within his soul and all that he knew about her.

“You changed my perspective about soulmates. You made me start falling before I knew and then gave me hope with matching scars and took it all away because of a crown. It was all for naught.”

Calum let Alena speak her piece while he brushed her tears away before they could stain her cheeks. He shook his head at her words that held no bite, no fight, no determination as she felt all was lost within merging kingdoms. He let out a small breath and she turned away from his hold, let dark brown and hazel find the cracked cobblestones beneath them and stay haunted with remorse for the way that she fell—unguarded and with the belief that he might be there to catch her. He wanted to prove that he would be.

“Alena,” Calum began and tried to grab her attention from the ground up. She was still stoic in his hold, eyes downcast but flitting up to him for just a moment, just long enough to show him that she was listening and wanted his side of the story and all the answers and rebuttals he could provide. “I don’t want the crown. I don’t want a princess unless she’s a ballerina and florist and hard bargainer as well. I’m not staying, I’m not going back to my kingdom. The princess will find another heir and sit another throne. Without me. I want to be with you.”

“How?” She asked and the question was needing an answer to instill faith of falling back into her heart and soul.

He explained his parents' words as his slightly disbelieving gaze swept the night for guards of his own and of the princess’ court. He found no one but Alena and that was just the way the world wanted it. “We can leave, if you want to go. They won’t stop us.”

“I think I’ve realized I’d go just about anywhere with you,” she admitted around a blush and fumbling words. “I don’t think I can take the pain of being without you now that I’ve found you.”

Her words confirmed what Calum had been wondering, he surmised she must have felt the aches and tingles in all the places he felt them too. That distance was an injury they might live with forever. Her free hand finally reached up to grip at Calum’s shirt, just under his scar and at his heart. It was so much like the first night they met, but this time Calum was sure that she could feel his heartbeat—that it possibly matched hers—that she really was the one he was meant for.

“Please don’t let go of me,” Calum whispered as a request much more meaningful than fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Never,” Alena replied with implications that would last a lifetime.

***

Calum sat among a crowd a world away from where he was born and raised. A world away from a crown and a marriage that wasn’t to who his heart and soul desired. Alena was radiant on stage. Calum found a new appreciation for the ballet when it was Alena his eyes couldn’t peel away from. When he truly could be one with the crowd and no one of importance other than a merchant that sold flowers and trinkets on cobblestone streets.

Using fine fabric and gems from Calum’s wardrobe had bought them passage across the open ocean, his parents' promise ensured they could flee without trouble. Goodbye’s were somber but filled with hope for the future. The king and queen understood. Alena’s father was kind and wished them well and asked them to write from wherever they ended up. They made that promise and kept it; found adventure in exploring the rest of the world and each other. They ended up finding a home in a country across the waters where princes were obsolete and royalty was hardly a murmur in the background of another world.

The ballet consumed Calum, all of the hard work Alena put into her art came alive on stage and Calum was grateful he was able to life a life that let him witness it every night. For once, the end came all too soon, though Calum was thankful that it meant Alena could be in his arms and not just in his sights. They met outside a performer’s door, orange flowers tucked into Calum’s hold and a plan in his mind.

“For you,” Calum greeted and passed the flowers to Alena like it was the first time—though it had become a well worn tradition through the time they had spent together.

Alena accepted them gracefully, didn’t hesitate to fall into Calum’s embrace of an arm thrown around her shoulders, and let him lead her on. He brought her to the ocean and lit up at eyes that were still mesmerized by waves they had sailed during their escape.

“I’m glad I found you,” Calum murmured into the night and watched as the moonlight rippled off the darkened sea.

“I’m glad I took a chance and let myself fall,” Alena admitted and Calum felt her words deep within him.

They fell back into the sand with flowers and hope in hand. Calum didn’t let his gaze wander to anywhere but brown and hazel and silver. Alena was demure under the moonlight and soft with grains of sand in honey hair. Calum grinned—wrapped up in the finality of searching souls finding each other, fighting for each other and making a home with one another. No matter where else they ended up, they would be at home so long as they other was by their side.

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 years ago

Text

Dreaming Like Fools

Soulmates meet in dreams and they don’t always come when you want them, but they come right when you need them.

Michael’s all sold on Odette but Odette has too much going on to be concerned with love quite yet.

This one is for @5-secondsofcolor because without you, I don’t think I would’ve come back to this fic. Happy Birthday, love!!!

Enjoy my masterlist

***No one has my permission to repost with fic, including translations to any other site. © be-ready-when-i-say-go 2020***

CW: Mentions of Death, Blood, and Anxiety. Deals with major health concerns and major surgery.

She’s falling, breathless, and unsure if her flailing limbs are actually helping her. This beats the running, though, from a shadowy figure. She couldn’t make out what it was, if it was someone in particular. But Odette will take the falling instead of the running. Running meant she had to make choices. Falling just means whatever happens happens and there’s not a thing to be done about it. Running means if she gets caught it’s her fault. Falling is just the grace of physics and a little bit of luck.

Miraculously, she lands on a park bench, in a part of town just up the road from her apartment. Across from her on the other side of the paved asphalt, as the echoes of runners coming and going filter around, is a man in a beanie. Part of his dirty blonde hair is casted over one eye. Neither one of them have words at first. Just gazing. They’re apart, but close enough that she takes is his green eyes and soft grin.

This is not happening to her. She remembers all the stories. The way her parents gushed about their first encounter. The awe and wonder they felt, how they knew they were soulmates for each other. Odette doesn’t buy the hype. Soulmates do not meet in dreams. It is such a ludicrous idea. No one could ever just shut their eyes and suddenly be faced to face with their soulmate. It would never work, she thinks. There would always be some mismatch or that they were falling in love with the idea of love, but not necessarily the full person in front of them.

The soulmate thing makes it all too easy and that makes her hesitant. Would this ever really work? Were people just so desperate to fit in that when it happened they let the delusion suck them in?

“I-uh, guess we’re soulmates?” he starts. He tugs at the end of sleeves, curling the excess fabric around his hands.

“I-I guess.” She can’t quite meet his eyes again. Unsure if this is actually happening to her or not. Her gut doesn’t flutter. Her heart isn’t racing. Everything people said would happen isn’t and she’s sure it’s just her subconscious playing tricks on her.

“What’s your name?”

“Odette. You?”

“Pretty name,” his grin is soft. “And I’m Michael.”

“Thanks.” There’s a lull in conversation. She’s never been great at the small talk and would always rather hide under a rock than deal with platitudes.

Michael just watches her, the way she keeps her gaze slightly averted, flicking back to him every so often. His palms are sweating beneath the fabric. He gets the nerves, the uncertainty of the whole ordeal. There’s no warning, no preview screen that counts down from ten. Michael is slightly positive he’s hallucinating too. Having gotten no sleep the night before and fitfully sleeping tonight, he wants to believe he’s making the whole thing up. But even if he is, it’s a nice dream to have, much better than the panic and anxiety that normally plagues him.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a moment. “I-I’m not the greatest at talking. I just never know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Michael offers. “Why don’t we start with something easy.”

Odette looks up. “Okay.”

His eyes twinkle as he tucks his legs underneath himself. As he ponders the subject to bring up, she takes another look at him. His bottom lip is so plump as he tucks it under his teeth. And for a second, she almost can’t believe the thought crossed her mind and she can feel her cheeks warming. “Do you think pineapple belongs on pizza?”

Michael has to laugh at the way her eyes widen, a rich dark brown color that contrasts to the amber hue of her skin. Her hair falls in ringlets around her head, some strands a light brown, others a honey gold. “It absolutely does not belong on pizza,” she retorts, her wide nose wrinkling at the thought.

Michael covers his chest with his hand. “Ouch, you wound me.”

“You’re kidding me?” Her laughter circles around and Michael closes his eyes just to let the sound settle into his ears with no further distractions. “That’s disgusting.”

“It is not. Have you ever had pineapple on pizza?”

“No, why would I ruin the savory of my pepperoni and sausage with the acidity of pineapple?” Odette is immensely grateful for the topic. It’s not anything about her, it’s nothing about all the shit that’s falling apart in her life. She can handle this.

“Pineapple is acidic, yes, but there’s a zest. Nothing quite like the little kick of sour to really make you savor all the rest of it the pizza.”

She shakes her head, curls gently brushing along her face. “You’re an absolute madman.”

Michael can’t help but grin, watching her. “There are many things I’ve been called in my life, a madman isn’t one of them.”

“I’m happy to be the first.” Though it starts out softly, she can hear the irksome buzzing of her alarm clock. “Sorry,” she offers, feeling herself pulled from the bench. Her arms are rising, the bench starts to fall out beneath her.

“Don’t be. It was nice to meet you, Odette.”

“Nice to meet you too, Michael.” He gives a small wave, watching as the last of the park around them filters out of existence. Her body starts to flicker too. Her wave in return is short and when Odette blinks, she’s staring up at the white of her ceiling. She can hear the creaking steps of her upstairs neighbor. She can hear the piercing cries of the baby across from her too. Music thumps against her windows. It’s just freshly seven in the morning and she knows that her day is full already.

It takes all her might to pull out of bed and Odette blinks again, watching herself in the full length mirror. It’s clear with the streaks of sunlight that in the few days since she last cleaned it, dust would always find its way back to the glass surface. With a huff, she pushes off the bed and pads softly into the kitchen. She can hear the clinking of pots. “Momma if you don’t sit down,” she grumbles.

“I am not the child here,” her mother retorts. Odette only stares. There is a ghostlike hue taking over her mother’s complexion. They look more like twins than mother and daughter, but right now as her mother grips onto the back of the kitchen chairs, it’s clear that no matter age, something is still very wrong.

“Just go to Urgent Care, please, Momma,” Odette urges. She hurries into the kitchen, to aid her mother in settling down in the creaky wooden chair. It’s losing its paint, the mint hue cracking and showing the wooden brown roots.

“I’m fine,” her mother retorts, fingers pressing into her temples. “It’s just the lights.”

“You can’t go to work like this.” Odette knows she’s been out of work for the week because of the migraine but it isn’t improving. Now, the addition of how faint her mother looks. Odette worries. Waiting too much longer for something to happen is only going to cause more damage in the long run.

“I’ve been out of work a week. Who’s gonna pay rent?”

It’s in moments like this that Odette wished she weren’t the only child. That someone else was there to bear the brunt of her mother’s wrath. As her mother shouts into the air about bills to be paid, and grocery to get, Odette silently flips over the pancakes. There is nothing to be said. Nothing that will soothe her mother’s anger, not even the hums of acknowledgement that always threaten to scratch over her voice.

As the eggs fluff under the constant scrape of the fork, Odette is shocked that there’s not more anger. There’s usually a whole breakfast full of her mother’s sadness. Turning her gaze, she spies her mother, head hanging on her neck towards her chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” her mother mumbles. “I’m so sorry.”

Odette assembles the pancakes and eggs, along with her mother’s morning smoothie in front of her. She presses a kiss to her mother’s forehead. Her lips can’t form the phrase, ‘It’s okay’ or even ‘I understand.’ Instead, she prepares her own plate and eats it near the sink, leaning up against the knobs of the cabinets and into the counter. “You shouldn’t go to work not until you go see a doctor. You’re not getting any better.”

“Someone has to take care of us,” her mother objects softly.

“Like my two jobs don’t mean shit, huh?”

Her mother’s glare is sharp and fierce as it lands on Odette. Odette meets the gaze with a blink. She knows she’s playing with fire. She knows that they are on the verge of breaking down. The walls of their life have been beaten in a storm breeze and they are rattling but the both of them try to keep up appearances. But she’s tired, tired of always tip toeing around. “Watch your language around me.”

There’s still nothing in the way of an apology, no sympathetic downturn of her eyes. No averted gaze. Just the continued blank look and pouty lips as Odette polishes off the last of her pancakes. She wonders if it’s going to take her mother dropping dead too for things to finally click. If she ever wanted to know where she got the stubbornness from, the proof was surely looking her in the face.

Odette washes her plate, waiting for the clink of her mother’s dishes against the counter. “If I go to Urgent Care, they’re gonna send me home. Tell me to rest.”

“Or they might be able to tell you what is going on. Or they refer you to a clinic.”

“And then we’re swimming in medical bills.”

“Then we’re just swimming,” Odette replies. When she turns, her mother’s plate is clear thankfully. So she picks it up, dumping it into the soapy water. “Swimming is better than you in continuous pain, Momma.”

It’s a losing battle. And it always will be, if the last year and a half of Odette and her mother butting heads is any indication. Odette finishes cleaning the kitchen, stacking dishes in the rack to dry while they’re gone for the day. It’s as she pulls the plug on the drain, watching it all swirl down that Odette wonders if one more push, one more attempt to speak reason with her mother is worth it. She never quite gets the chance before the front door opens. “Love you. Have a great day,” her mother calls.

“Love you too.” The door closes, the soft clink of keys on the ring shakes as the lock turns.

Her mother shouts from the other side of the door, “Turn down the goddamn music!” Odette strongly believes it’s not heard over the crooning vocals of Luther Vandross of a thousand kisses never being too much.

************************

Michael doesn’t want to call himself a dreamer. Though his track record has proven otherwise. It’s the only way for him to take off in this band, to drop everything and lean into the naivety of youth. But Michael doesn’t really want to call himself a dreamer, though the entirety of his day is spent trying to reconjure Odette. The soft curl of her lips when she smiled. While he was a little hurt at her hard fast stance against pineapple on pizza, he wanted to hear more about the way she viewed the world. From the very brief interaction, Michael was sure she was chalked full of interesting perspectives.

And he really does not want to call himself a dreamer. But it’s obvious as he gets dressed and makes the drive to the studio that maybe his head is a little in the clouds. Normally, there’s not much thought into his attire, but for the briefest of moments he wonders if the all black and baggy attire would turn her off. Does she like more vibrant colors? The thought doesn’t linger long before he realizes he has to get out the door if he’s going to make it on time. L.A. traffic is unforgiving and the last thing he needs is to be late again this week.

“Someone got laid last night.” That’s the first thing out of Ashton’s mouth upon seeing Michael.

Normally, Michael would smirk, maybe even laugh but hold the details close to his chest. At least for the moment anyway. But all Michael can do at the moment is blush, biting at his lip to attempt to suppress the smile. It's futile and the grin cracks, lifting his cheeks and reaching his eyes. “So, I’m like, eighty percent sure my soulmate was revealed to me last night.”

The boys cheer, gently patting him on his back. “Tell us about the lucky one,” Calum encourages, his arm slung around Michael’s shoulders. In an endearing and slightly subverted way, Michael feels like the younger brother under his older brother’s wing. But it’s nice for just a moment to know that no matter what that support is still there.

“I really don’t know a lot. We only met briefly before she had to go. Just her name. And that she does not like pineapple on pizza.” Michael’s not sure how, but he wishes he could convey the way her nose scrunched up at the thought, the disgust that curled her lips down into a frown. The words escape him just at the thought of Odette’s face.

“Gonna be love sick for a while,” Luke teases. He’s been down this road before. Ashton has too. Both of them have made it seem easy and though for them, it worked out well that both their soulmates live in the area.

Michael and Calum had a running joke that they were the late bloomers in all matters of love. Not that they hadn’t attempted to speed the progress along. Both of them have a treasure trove of stories of relationships and dates that all wound up going nowhere fast. But the two of them were sticking it out for the long haul on being the last two in the group to get their love lives straightened out. Soulmates were said to be revealed when the people needed them. Not just when they wanted love. The cosmos always had a formula, always knew what was coming ahead.

“Sorry to leave ya hanging, mate.” Michael gives a small sympathetic smile. Their day’s a little slow to start, as Luke clutches his first cup of tea for the day.

Calum shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He makes note not to remark on how he doesn’t remember many of his dreams anyway. He liked to think there was a chance he had run into his soulmate but just didn’t remember. Now he would be quested with finding them again, the old fashion way. It is something he tried to find solace in, albeit it is dark and morbid.

“Have you made plans yet to meet her?”

“No, not yet.” The group of them walk down to their booth. Luke and Ashton are huddled together chatting away about something, sounds like it’s about the voice notes that Luke has on his phone. “It was actually kind of a short encounter. By the time I was able to get like two sentences out of her, her alarm went off.”

“There’s always next time, mate,” Calum encourages. He nudges Michael’s shoulder again, a sly grin lifting his cheeks.

Michael’s slight laughter comes out in a squeal and with a twinge of indignation. “That’s that look for!”

“Just happy for you; that’s all.”

“That is not the look of someone happy for someone else. But if you say so.”

“What’s her name?”

“Odette.”

There’s a thoughtful pause as Calum nods, repeating the name aloud. “Definitely not a name I’ve heard before. But judging by the way your cheeks are red, you’re smitten already.”

“Am not!” Michael retorts. He knew he could feel the heat in his cheeks and he knew that even though his drive wasn’t terribly long, he passed the time wondering how much of a fight Odette would put up about who controls music. If she’d scramble to eat breakfast in the car as she went about her day, or did she plan enough time in the morning so enjoy it and not rush. Sure, this was all insane to think about, but Michael couldn’t risk anyone else knowing that he did.

Though, there was no real risk at all. Not with the guys. Luke had shared more about his love life and the challenges when he first found his soulmate. Ashton had always been a little reserved about that, but wasn’t opposed to dropping advice whenever someone needed it. So that always left Michael and Calum wondering, maybe even conjuring up more than what was really to be expected. However, that did not stop and could not stop Michael from envisioning the little things with Odette.

Calum’s laughter isn’t loud but the flickering silence of his choked inhales between his giggly exhales alerts Michael that maybe he is not as good as he wanted to be about hiding just how far down the rabbit hole he was going. Things are going to be rough for the next few days, Michael can already tell.

Micheal’s not sure how he finds it so easy to sleep. The normal battle to sleep consists of the fatigue weighing down his eyes but his mind usually finds something to cling onto. Whether it be conscious or subscious, it always lies with him, chattering in his ears. But tonight, tonight is wholly different. Michael climbs into bed, his Netflix already loaded up with anything to attempt to silence the stress. But as he curls up in his sheets, arms cradling one pillow to his head and chest, his eyes manage to flutter. He’s not even ten minutes into the show and everything about sleep is calling out to him.

He’s not sure at first what is happening. There’s a faint roar of a crowd, just a generalized cheering. And soon it comes in closer to his ears. The area around him is mostly dark with a flickering of light. Should he go towards it? There has to be something said about him walking towards the light. And it’s not completely favorable to him either. But maybe just on the other side there’s something. So his feet carry him while his mind tells him he maybe should turn around now before he gets too far down and can’t get back out.

As the light washes over him, he finds himself in a crowd. The faces aren’t too familiar to him. They bustle by without actually touching him. As if he was not actually real standing there. He’s not sure what he’s meant to be doing here, but he carries on, upstream through the throngs of people. And there, just a head is a gate. He can see patches of green, hear the rattle of basketballs bouncing off backboards.

Michael pushes his way up, holding onto the metal of the gate to keep him stronger than the current and when he steps through, it all falls away. It’s just him. In the park. The same benches from before are off to his left and he wanders over. What will he and Odette discuss tonight? Maybe he should ask if she likes hot sauce on her eggs? Or if sugar belongs in spaghetti?

Michael settles in, legs tucked up underneath of him. Every creak of the gate has him lifting his head. At first it’s just the wind. And sooner rather than later, Michael knows he’s willing the door to creak. He wants to hear it so he does hear it. But there never is anyone. There never is a body that floats in to join him that night.

************

Her mother laughs, before turning her head to look at Odette. The intercom comes on again, another droning voice that’s attempting to convey the urgency of the message without causing a ruckus in the middle of the hospital. Odette’s beginning to hate the sound of the machine tracking her mother’s heartbeat. “Maybe I should’ve listened to you.”

Odette wants to say something. Anything. Instead, she stares at the white floor, watching as harsh fluorescent lights reflect off it into her irises. When the call came in at the front end of the store, with several folks in line and Odette trying to clear them out as her supervisor tried to explain to a customer that the return policy was firmly in place, it almost went unanswered. But the assistant store manager had finally come to help her front end supervisor and answered the ringing phone. It forced one of the floor associates to come up and ring while Odette took her call. Leaving in the middle of a customer tirade and a forever growing line would’ve originally scared Odette. It would’ve made her worried that she wouldn’t have a job.

However, after a few years, and now being the only family her mother has left, the last thing she thought about was her job. The first thing she hoped for was that there were no cops on the road to catch her speeding. During the entire drive, her blood thumped in her veins. She felt the ones in her neck vibrating. The only thing she thought: Not her too. She could not lose her mother, not now. Not after just losing her father. She wouldn’t have it. Even if the universe was trying to kill her slowly, she would fight back. Thankfully, when she arrived at her mother’s job at the grocery store not too far from her department store, her mother was still conscious. But barely able to really walk or stand for any extended period of time.

“You have to say something. Not even swearing at your mother.”

“What do you want me to say? I told you so?”

“Something, I just want you to say something.”

But Odette had nothing to say. Truth be told, she is more worried that this could’ve been the end of the mother. The doctors ran some test, counted her hemoglobin. They told Odette, outside with the flimsy curtain between her and her mother, that it’s a miracle her mother was still alive. She had lost nearly two-thirds of the blood in her body. That her mother’s period hadn’t stopped. They’d have to do some ultrasounds too, to see what exactly was going on. The hospital would try to contact her OB/GYN in the morning to confer with them. None of the doctors were sure how her mother managed to get through any amount of time during her shift or how her mother wasn’t unconscious when she brought her in. But yet, her mother was still, against all the odds as conscious as ever.

Maybe, in a twisted way, her mother being unconscious would’ve hopefully scared her mother some more. Right now, they are in hour two of the noted four for the blood to be brought to the hospital. Because this one is so small, they don’t keep things like blood on site and had to order it to be delivered. Once they got all the bags, it would be another six hours before the transfusion would be over.

“It’s bad when you’re quiet,” her mother continues. “I mean, you’ve always been a quiet girl. But you’re too quiet right now.”

“I told you to go to the doctors sooner. But Dad was right. You’d be stubborn until they put you into the ground too.”

“There it is. There’s the little firecracker I raised up.”

Odette slides down even further into the chair. Her stomach growls and she swears it’s at her back, attempting to take in her spine and nerves as nutrients. But she can’t leave her mother. She has no one else to call to even sneak her a snack. There’s a vending machine. She noticed it when she was trying not to panic as they rushed her mother into a room. “Do you want a snack?”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

Odette tiptoes out into the hallway, bouncing the change in her hands. Nurses breeze past her. There is more for them to worry about. More people behind curtains and in rooms that cling to threads of hope. That’s the only thing around her right now, threads of hope. And maybe the fraying strings of her work jeans at her thighs. That’s less of a worry though. At the front of the machine, she glances over the bright packages. There’s Oreos. And honeybuns. None of it will be filling, but at this moment, she needs something to get her through the night, allow her to keep her head on straight.

As Odette rubs her fingers clear of Oreo crumbs, she wonders just how vicious blood must be, as it slugs down the tubes and into her mother’s IV. The bags are a little shadowy, as if trying to hide their contents but not fully committing to it. She doesn’t check her phone for the time. Her eyelids tell her it’s probably too early in the morning of the next day. She can feel them wanting to shut on her, but she keeps them open. She’ll have to call her job. Tell them she won’t be able to come in for the next couple of days.

“Sleep. We’re gonna be here all night anyway.”

“Cookie?” Odette offers, trying to swallow down the bite to tell her mother that she can’t sleep, she shouldn’t sleep. The last time Odette took her eyes off her mother, they wound up in a hospital bed.

“Why not?” She raises a hand as Odette leans up, extending the bag to her mother’s waiting fingers.

The room swells again, more doctors, more machines and Odette slips out of the way, tries to bury herself in the corner for the time being. Now she wishes the heartbeats were louder as the doctor explains, “Your uterus looks what would be the size of someone carrying at three to four months. Which is not good at all. With the way you’ve talked about your cycle and flow, I’m going to have to say a partial hysterectomy is your only option at this point. There are flash procedures but I don’t think they’d be effective at this stage. Not if you’re losing blood like this. Have you had issues with your cycle before?”

“Nothing that seemed too bad. Flow was getting heavier, I noticed. I wasn’t sure what it was. But I don’t--”

Odette steps in, resting a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “This is about your life.” Her mother will riot, complaining about how their insurance probably won’t cover nearly enough for the surgery. Her mother nods.

Odette feels herself slipping, head falling on her neck. The doctor left and her mother held her peace, thankfully about the surgery. There are no more Oreos to share. There are no more silences to hold. Just her mother in the bed. Odette in the chair, head sliding on her neck. And it’s the drop, when the sliding is finished and there’s nothing left to catch her head, so it drops--that’s what wakes her. The mostly still see through bag of blood is still hanging, still letting gravity pull it down and travel up the IV. A nurse shuffles into the room, taking vitals, her voice low but somehow a bit more chipper for it to be whatever time it is. Odette finally looks at her phone. It’s nearly 6 am.

She’s not sure how much she’s actually slept. It feels like nothing at all. It could be because she kept waking, kept cracking open her eyes to verify it was all just a bad dream. But bad dreams don’t beep like this in real life. They don’t leave her phone at less than twenty percent left in the charge. The doctor comes back in again. “You’ll be hearing from us tomorrow, about a date and time for your surgery. It’s marked as an emergency because we need you sooner rather than later.”

It’s only in the car, when Odette slides into the driver seat after getting her mother settled, that her mother raises hell. “How are we supposed to work this out? How? How?”

The tears come. She can hear them in her mother’s voice. She can feel them stinging her own eyes. But she has the road to watch out for. She has traffic lights to stop at. There are no times for tears. The drive’s somewhere between silent and painfully full of noise. Just white noise, the kind of noise that doesn’t need to be sounded out but it’s buzzing just below the surface. Odette white knuckles her steering wheel, trying to keep her mother’s tears and her own worries from climbing up her throat. At least, not right now.

Her mother is slow as she ascends the stairs of their apartment complex. And she barely gets through a shower before Odette tucks her into her sheets. And only then, when the door to the apartment is closed does Odette let the vicious sob through her chest. It’s not fair, it’s not fair. It’s just not fucking fair. She lost one parent. She cannot lose another one. Her neighbors may bitch but she doesn’t care. Her mother needs the rest. She needs the release. So Odette doubles over in front of their apartment, heaving into the creaky wood, and somewhere in the prickle of the tears and sticky mess of snot she thinks she didn’t even get to see Michael. Not that she slept that long or that deeply. Not that she wanted to rely on him, not that she really thought he was real. But a part of her wanted that too, wanted a glimmer of hope to hold onto.

**************

“I don’t like this,” Michael says, hooking his teeth into his nonexistent thumb nail. “Was she real even at all?”

“Look, the girls are on it. She was real,” Calum returns. Michael paces in front of him. The sun is high. The afternoon is warm, but not unbearable thankfully. It’s been five days since the last time Michael saw Odette. Calum’s doing his best to keep Michael preoccupied. It’s hard because at every pause, even if it’s between trying on shoes, or while Michael contemplates which headset he should get or while the console countdown for their new match, Michael ponders Odette. If she’s okay, if she was real. The what if’s keep getting grander, more involved, more terrifying in some ways. It reached a point where Calum begged Luke and Ashton’s girls to do some digging, see if any Odette’s matching Michael’s description popped up anywhere.

Granted, their investigations only began fifteen minutes ago. He didn’t have a last name so Calum’s sure it’s a lot of eliminating grandmothers and aunts from Instagram, Twitter, and FaceBook. “You’re going to wear a whole in my concrete. And I really didn’t think that would be possible,” Calum returns, waving for Michael to take a seat. Even if it’s only for three seconds before he pops back up again.

“I’m sorry. I’m probably bugging the shit out of you with this.” The cushion gives enough but the weaved wicker supports Michael’s back as he leans into it.

“You’ve bugged me about way less.”

“Do you think--”

“No,” Calum answers, already knowing the question before it’s finished. “You’re not crazy. You’re just concerned.”

“I mean, like, just a little bit right? For panicking like this. I mean, maybe she’s not even my soulmate. She hasn’t shown up again since then.”

“I hate to break it to ya, mate. But we’ve all got lives. They get a little bonkers. Maybe she’s just tied up right now.”

“I hope they find something. I think I could literally go insane, right about now. If I haven’t gone insane already.”

There’s nothing Calum can say that will make Michael understand that part of his concern is rational. A portion of that concern just shows that Michael cares. Instead Calum offers more distractions. Rounds of Rocket League while they wait for their lunch to arrive and attempt not to look at their phones for any signs of life from the girls about any signs of Odette. It works for the time being but Michael’s worry holds down his shoulders. He curls up on Calum’s couch, an arm wrapped around Duke’s body, the other under his head, and tries not to think about if he fell asleep right now if he’d run into Odette again.

“I’m only allowing the dog cuddles now. But any other time, I’d fight,” Calum teases, lifting his heels to the edge of the coffee table. Their boxes of take out have been trashed already but the bottles and cans still linger on the wood. Their last match didn’t end spectacularly, but they were only down by one goal. Maybe the edge of Rocket League has run its course. “FIFA?”

Michael shrugs, not moving from his fetal position. His feet pressing into the arm of the couch. His head a cushion away from Calum-- it’s how he managed to scope up Duke. Calum says nothing, arms folded in front of his chest. Michael takes his fingers from Duke’s fur and pushes up. His phone rests near his bottle of water. “Don’t you dare,” Calum retorts.

“Just, like not even for Twitter?”

“If you go to Twitter, you’re going to go to the group chat. If you go there and there’s nothing there, you’re gonna be even sadder. I know you.”

Michael doesn’t want to admit that Calum is right but he knows he can’t win in a fight either. So he falls back into the cushion. “I’m just gonna take a nap then. Since I apparently can’t do anything else.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Even though they laugh into the quiet hum of Calum’s house, Calum still worries. It’s the middle of the day. They have no clue what she does for work, so if she's sleeping now or not is really a shot in the dark. His own phone hasn’t chimed with signs of anything from the group chat. He can’t tell Michael to never sleep, to never shut his eyes if he manages to get proper and good rest, knowing how much sleep evades Michael on a normal basis. Maybe it’s irrational to hope for Michael to find her in his dreams right now. It’s really all they have. It’s all Michael has. So even if it’s crazy, Calum watches Michael for a second with the briefest prayer to the universe that Michael finds her on the other side just for peace of mind.

There’s no crowd for Michael this time. He spots the metal gates. He hears the creaks of the backboard, the bounce of basketballs on the concrete and he struts right towards it. He can see his bright pink sneakers in his peripheral vision under his body, carrying him towards the grass and concrete and wooden benches. This is how it’s gone for the last five days. Him walking right up the gates, settling onto the park bench and just...waiting. He waits with knees bouncing, and dragging his hands over his face.

But this time, as he nears, he spies the ringlet curls. The dark brown hair. Her amber skin. “Odette,” he whispers.

There’s no way she should’ve heard it. But her head snaps up and he can see her red eyes. He jogs over, sliding onto the bench next to her, taking her hands into his. “I tried pineapple on pizza,” she confesses. Her voice is hoarse and he wants to ask what happened, where she’s been. But he’s more shocked that she’s right in front of him, that she remembered their first conversation. “I still stand firm that it does not belong on pizza. But it’s good on pizza. There’s a huge difference.”

Besides himself, Michael chuckles. “You can fight me. It does belong on pizza. It has a rightful spot amongst, cheese, veggie and pepperoni pizzas.”

“There’s a reason that speciality pizzas exist.” She unravels his hold of his right hand, but threads her fingers through his left one. “I guess this is a real thing.”

“I absolutely lost my shit not seeing you for five days. Is everything okay?”

There’s a simple headshake, her hair bouncing with the movement. “No.” It’s just one word. But it falls from her lips in a whisper and she doesn’t look up at him. Her broken voice hits Michael in his chest. It almost feels like someone’s reached into his body and snatched his lungs from him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he returns, waiting for his brain to figure out the next step. Does he comfort her? And if he does, how?

“I just want a break,” she says, lifting her head and looking out, where the empty bench is across from them. “I just want a goddamn break.”

“Where are you right now? I could come by, drop you off some food if you want. Or whatever you need.”

“It’s okay. Thanks, though.” She just sits, silently watching out. Her fingers brush over his and Michael tries not to think how perfect her palm feels against his. He tries not to think too much how she kind of slides into him, the way she presses into his side.

“You sure? I wouldn’t mind.” Yeah, and he wouldn’t mind maybe seeing her in person, just so he could lay his real eyes on hers and know without a shadow of any doubt that she was real.

“I appreciate it.” Silence settles around them as they lean into each other, hands and fingers intertwined. Michael’s not sure what to say, what he can do. So he just sits, holding her hand. Maybe it’ll be their thing. Like no matter how bad it gets, no matter what’s going on in the world all they have to do is just reach out and take each other’s hand.

Michael wouldn’t be able to tell anyone one the silence breaks and when he’s left that park bench and finally finds himself face first into Duke’s fur again. When his eyes open, though it’s bleary, he can see the TV flashing, players running across the field. Calum’s up a goal. He hums, before pushing himself up, head falling into the back cushions. “Ah, he lives. I was worried there for a second.”

“Shockingly,” Michael replies with a small tuft of laughter. “I saw Odette.”

Calum glances away from the screen, to see the half smile on Michael’s face but it’s quickly clouded yet again with concern. “How is she?”

“Not good. We just sat there really.” Michael runs a hand over his face, partially to wake himself up. In part to hide and even suppress the hot flash of worry that rises on his cheeks.

“She tell you what’s wrong?”

Michael is quiet. Duke’s paws as he climbs down the sofa and over the hardwood floor to his water and the clicking of the controller under Calum’s thumbs and fingers are the only real sound for a moment. Michael exhales. “No, she didn’t tell me anything.”

Calum knows that tone, the frustration that bleeds into it. “The girls have posted what they found in the groupchat.”

Michael surges forward. His bottle of water, only a fourth full, wobbles at the weight slammed into the table. Michael, holding himself up mostly by his elbows, unlocks his phone and finds the thread. Your girl hides herself pretty well. But here’s what we found. The next few texts are links: one to Instagram and the other to a FaceBook page.

“She is real,” he sighs, after the page loads. Calum pauses his game, taking a gander at Michael’s phone too. The pages are private, but the profile picture is very clearly Odette to Michael. There’s no doubt about it.

***********

I hope you don’t think this is too strange. I just wanted to reach out. Let you know that if you need anything at all, someone just to sit with IRL I’ll be there. Take care.

Odette saw the message the second it came in, while sitting alone in the waiting area on the second floor of the hospital. Her mother’s overnight sitting between her feet. Michael. She wasn’t even shocked that he managed to find her on social media. Anyone with half an hour to kill could do it. But this message makes things even more real. It’s not just some guy that appeared out of nowhere in her dreams. It was a guy in a band. A successful one, she would give him that. But a band, with enough traction that would just cause her more panic than good. If she allowed herself just two seconds, if she let her think about what could be, she knew it would have it’s own challenges. She’d have to navigate the limelight, the prying eyes. She doesn’t like anyone in her business as it is

Timing is terrible, she concludes. Even if she wanted to pursue anything with Michael, she still had her mother’s health in near shambles and that would take precedence over everything else. The message sits behind the locked phone and two swipes and a tap. It’s been six hours now. Her mother now settled into her room. She’s woken up once or twice, mostly with a soft hum, but nothing major to say. Odettee sits curled up in the chair, watching the machines, the TV above their heads plays the news.

I appreciate it Michael. Everything’s kind of crumbled right now. I’m sorry if I’m hard to reach. Thanks again.

Her phone doesn’t even sit face down for longer than a few seconds before it shakes again. Another message. I understand. Just want to help. His icon pops up again with another message beneath it. I know it sounds crazy but I just really care. I’ll do whatever I can.

She closes her eyes, tears stirring behind her eyes. It’s not even Michael’s message. It’s the goddamn hospital. Her father in surgery, her mother in the ER, her mother in surgery. She hates this place. It makes her stomach twist up. She always thinks she’s going to be sick when she catches a whiff of stale sterilization and white walls. She hates it here. She hates her mother having to be here. She hates that her father took his last breaths but they couldn’t be there. They couldn’t comfort him.

And there’s no one else. There’s no one else to take her place. There’s no one else to take this burden from her. “Don’t cry.”

Odette wipes her face with the backs of her wrist. “Rest, Momma. You need it.”

Her mother hums, turning her head into the pillow again and within a few seconds, she can tell sleep has overtaken her. Her mother’s face is not her own. The carbon dioxide is still bloating her mother’s cheeks. It was needed to increase visibility but now Odette’s sure if she were to take a finger and poke a cheek, her face would just deflate. Her mother would just flatten and disappear into the sheets.

She covers her face with her hands. She enjoyed sitting with Michael. He didn’t ask too many questions. He didn’t press her. But she didn’t have time for love. She didn’t want to become her mother. If her father was still alive, her mother wouldn’t have thought twice about going to the doctor’s sooner. Odette didn’t understand. Her mother was stubborn. When things looked like they could get worse, when everyone else was warning to just cut ties, her mother would hunker down and see things all the way through, even if it was to a bitter end. However, when it came to her father, there was hardly a fight. If her father said jump, her mother hardly asked how high before pushing her body up into the air. They were somewhere between individual people and magnets. One of them was never too far without the other.

Now her mother is just running herself down. Taking more and more shifts at work. Hardly sleeping. Hardly paying attention to her health. If Odette didn’t know her mother better, she could’ve almost thought that she was doing it on purpose. Of course, there were easy excuses to cast blame on: they still had expenses from her father to take care of, rent to pay, Odette’s student loans. She hadn’t even gotten the break she thought she would with her art degree.

With one less income coming into the house, her father hadn’t retired yet and while his insurance policy covered most of the funeral expenses, it just seemed to be a sinking ship. And Odette wouldn’t let herself get off one and into another one. She wouldn’t let herself be so dependent on someone. At the end of the day, she still had to be able to take care of herself if something went wrong. She doesn’t want to turn into her mother. It seemed so cliche. Everyone fears turning out like their parents. But to lose oneself, to become so intertwined with one other person that the thought of losing them seemed far worse than death honestly scared Odette.

But there’s Michael. There is Michael, creeping into her thoughts whenever she thinks her boat might actually hit rock bottom. She’ll admit it’s nice. She doesn’t have to worry about anything. She doesn’t have to be her mother’s only provider for those quiet moments. He just wants to help, but there was no way he really wanted to get involved with her and her mess. Not when he could have the pick of the litter. Not when no doubt had his own crazy life to handle, though. Michael would be better off on his own ship. Not with her adding weight to it.

She doesn’t see Michael that night. She hadn’t really expected too with how fitful her sleep is. Every hour or so she wakes, checking that her mother is still there, that she hadn’t slept through any emergency. When the doctor’s come in the morning, it’s all smiles. They clear her mother.

“You look tired,” her mother comments. “Have you been sleeping?”

“No.”

“You need to sleep.”

Odette laughs dryly-one tuft of laughter-, pausing as the traffic clears before crossing the intersection and starting north towards their apartment. “I know.”

“Rest once we get home. I’ll fix us baked ziti.”

“That goes against every instruction the doctors gave you.”

“I’m fine now.”

“You’re getting home and you’re lying down.”

“Who’s the parent here?”

“Right now, it doesn’t matter. You’re still recovering, Momma.” It feels like talking to a toddler. Her mother doesn’t want to give up the control that she has. But if she doesn’t listen, it’ll cause more problems than before.

The first two days go well. Her mother does make light jokes of Odette’s cooking but they both know Odette learned from her. Odette stares at her ceiling, waiting for the alarm to go off, wondering if she should just see how Michael is doing. The mornings are really the only part of the day she has to herself. At night, when her head hits the pillow, she thinks too much about everything going wrong. Sleep’s always kind of evaded her, but now, it feels tenfold.

Take care. Michael sends it with almost every message. They finally exchanged numbers. He must mean it well, must mean it like, don’t forget about yourself. But Odette’s only swimming and swimming and sometimes she is sinking. She’s not sure when she can take care of herself. But she likes to escape from her real life bullshit by drawing. She’s started taking commissions since she’s been out of work for a week and will be out for at least another one. And sometimes, she lets herself daydream about Michael. Not often and not for long. Because there is always food to cook, dishes to clean, bills to hide from her mother.

There’s a clatter. The distinct sound of metal hitting the floor and filling their house with the tinny and high sounds. Odette flies out of her bed, heart racing. Please let her be okay, Odette chants to herself, throwing open her door and not bothering with putting on pants. And there, in the kitchen, is her mother standing at the sink with a pan on the floor. “Momma.” It’s a warning, soft and a small part of the disappointment dripping into the word.

“Don’t Momma me. Just pick it up please.”

“You have to take it easy.” The pan is returned to the sink, awaiting another scrub.

“I just wanted pancakes, that’s all.”

“I can make you as many pancakes as you want, you know.”

“I’m not old! I’m perfectly capable!” The kitchen echoes with the frustrated shouts of her mother.

Odette, still facing the sink, wishes she could just disappear. “Momma, I’m not saying you’re not.”

“Then just let me make myself pancakes!”

“The doctors told you you’d have to take it easy for a few days. Just relax and I’ll make them.”

“Making pancakes is not going to kill me.”

“No, but you hemorrhaging will. You bleeding out at work or making yourself some fucking pancakes in your kitchen will if you don’t just sit down for a second!” Odette pushes off the counter, facing her mother. The tears are blurring her vision and if she weren’t such a goddamn angry crier, she’d be able to seethe. She could show her mother just how fed up she is. “I don’t know what you want. Do you want kill yourself? Is that what you’re trying to do? Do you miss Dad? What is it?”

The two women stare at each other. Odette feels her arms shaking. Her stomach trembles. She doesn’t know what else to do to help her mother. “He’s just gone,” her mother sobs. It’s the first time outside of the funeral that her mother’s cried in front of her. “That morning I was kissing him, telling him to have a great day and that night he was just gone.”

“He is,” she agrees. “It’s not fair. But Momma, I need you.”

“I just don’t know what to do.”

Odette knows this is the moment to attempt to console her mother. But what can she say? What can she do? The only thing Odette knows to do is walk over, wrap her arm around her mother and walk them both to the couch. It’s almost unreal. How both of them are just so lost. Maybe it was naive to think her mother would have all the answers. That her own mother wasn’t grieving just like her.

At the stove, Odette dares not a tear to fall into the batter. As the batter cooks, bubbles appearing all throughout, Odette knows she has to get out. She has to have a break. But God, she can’t go too far. She plates the pancakes, even tops it off with a cup of tea for her mother and then puts it onto a tray. Her mother gives her a soft thanks but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she continues on to her room, finding her phone.

“Hey, what’s up?” Michael answers.

“Shit, sorry,” she returns. It’s barely seven in the morning and it was only the gravel in his voice that reminds her that not everyone has the early morning routine that she does.

“No, no, it’s okay. Is everything okay?”

“I should let you sleep.” What Odette hadn’t anticipated was the relief that settled in her chest at the sound of his voice. Since they’ve started talking more readily, they see each other less in their dreams. But it still happens occasionally, especially if Odette hides for a couple days. As if it’s life’s way of reminding her that she will always be pulled towards this person, she’ll never be able to escape them. And sometimes she didn’t mind that fact, but other times it scared her.

“Did you need something?”

An escape. Ten minutes in another universe to let her know if this really was all worth it. “I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that, you know? World’s not going to explode just because you call me early enough to hear the rooster call.” His laughter floats in through the phone a small bit of a squeal, mostly coated in the still gruff grip of hours of not being used during the night.

“It’s not that early. Early, yes. But I didn’t, like, call at five in the morning.”

“There it is,” Michael hums. “The Odie I know.”

“Odie?” Her chest tightens just a little. No one’s called her that since her father. She hadn’t even thought about that nickname since her father’s car accident and death.

“Do you not like it?

“My dad used to call me that. I haven’t heard that nickname in almost two years.” She can hear her own voice cracking. The tears are slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t mind it.”

“Are you sure? Sounds like you’re crying. And I just, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“It’s-it’s okay. Just a lot going on.” Odette works the tears back down, fights to keep her tone even. How many more tears could she cry?

“We can go get breakfast, if you want?”

Her sigh creates a crackle through the receiver. She still hasn’t told him. Still hasn’t let him in fully. She didn’t want to lose herself. But maybe sitting on her bedroom floor, in just a t-shirt and panties, crying her eyes out for who knows how many times in the last two and half weeks, isn’t exactly having herself either. “I can’t go for long. My mom just had surgery and I’m the only one she has.”

“I’ll bring it to you and your mum then. How does that sound?”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I probably don't even live anywhere near you. I don’t want you to go so far out.”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter. Sounds like you’ve had a stressful couple of weeks. Please let me help.”

Odette inhales. “Make it lunch and you’ve got a deal.”

“Just give me your address and I’ll be at your door at 12:30.”

“It’s not, the greatest. Where I’m at. I’m sorry.”

“Just send your address and I’ll see you at 12:30.”

Michael texted her at 11, asking what they wanted and ever since then, Odette’s been sitting at the kitchen table. Her mother’s watches TV but Odette will always be able to tell when her mother’s eyes flick from the Netflix playing some romantic comedy to her. They’ve yet to have words outside of discussing lunch. “You look like you’re about to be in trouble,” her mother calls. The neighbors above them stomp about.

It’s then, as Odette finally casts her glance at her mother, that she wonders if she should share the truth about Michael. Would that hurt her mother more? Would her mother think that she’s leaving her too? “It’s nothing,” Odette says, looking down at her phone. It’s just after 12:10, so Odette stands. “I’m just gonna be outside.”

She takes the stairs down to the door and then settles on the curb. The concrete is warm against her thighs. Her old volleyball shorts do nothing to protect her legs from the loose gravel and dirt. Her slides are loose on her feet and she sits, watching the parking lot as cars she knows all too well slide in and out. While Odette truly wished to get the hell out, she didn’t want her mother to think she would up and abandon her.

But she couldn’t stay here forever. She has to go at some point. She has her entire life to live still.

It’s Michael. It has to be because she doesn’t know anyone else to roll up in the white Tesla. Suddenly her hands are a little shaky. As she stands, she quickly wipes her hands on her thighs, crossing the parking lot to him pulling into the visitor spot. Odette only gets as far as the trunk before the door opens and Michael steps out. She can’t lie about it now. She can’t pretend when her heart nearly stops at the sight of him. Real. In front of her. She half jogs the few feet between them.

His arms open, to let her in, a grin on his face. “Hey.”

Odette tucks herself into his chest. “Hi.”

She smells like honey and flowers. Michael would’ve never guessed that combo. But it feels right. It crawls up his nostrils and settles into his chest. He feels almost like he’s at home. Michael fully encases her body into his arms. “Nice to finally meet you. In person,” he laughs gently into her ear.

Odette can’t say anything. She didn’t think Michael was real for a second. But now he’s here and he drove from god knows where to her. “Thanks,” she exhales, her voice shaky. “It means a lot.”

“Of course, Odette. I’d do anything.”

Odette leads Michael up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes mixing in with the thumping music bleeding out from a number of apartment doors and with the laughter that swells from behind closed doors. At her front door, she stops and turns to Michael. “I apologize now for whatever my mom says.”

Michael nods. She works her bottom lip underneath her teeth. “It’s okay.”

Nodding, Odette cracks open the door and her mother is not on the couch. “Fuck,” she whispers, rushing to set the bag in her hand on the table. “Momma!”

Her panic tone pierces Michael’s ear. “In here!” The response comes from deep in the house and Odette scurries deeper into the apartment, pausing at a door right near the start of the hallway.

She hovers outside the door. “Everything okay?”

“Girl, I’m not dead.”

Michael watches from the edge of the open living room space, drink tray still in his hand. “The food’s here,” Odette relays. Her voice is softer and she’s slow to push away from the door. The weight settles on her face and when she walks back to the kitchen table, Michael sees it all. All the nights she probably hasn’t slept.

“What else do you need?” he asks. “And please don’t bullshit me.”

Odette scrubs over her face, collapsing into the chair. “We’ll be okay.”

“What do I have to do?” Michael finally places the drinks down. “I just want to help.” He takes her hand, kneeling in front of her. “Just want to help.”

“Odette hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Michael looks up and for a moment, he wants to laugh. Say that they’re playing a cruel joke on him. But when he looks back to Odette and then to her mother, he knows it’s no trick. They are practically twins. He ought to be used to it, with the way Calum and his mother look so much alike. But it’s always a shock, it appears.

“Michael, this is my mom. Mom, this is Michael.”

Michael stands, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Brown.”

Odette watches, praying to the high heavens her mother doesn’t say anything slick about the lack of Odette’s warning. Instead, her mother shakes his hand. “Thanks for getting us lunch. It’s very sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome. And please, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to reach out. Odette has my number.” He bows, a quick dip of his head. “I hope you have a speedy recovery, Mrs. Brown.”

Odette walks him to the door. Michael takes a quick hold of her waist, for one last hug. “Please call me, okay? If you need anything, want anything. Doesn’t matter, call me.”

She nods. “I will.” The door shuts after Michael slips through it and as the bag crinkles to her mother’s hands, Odette rests her head into the wooden door. Michael is actually real and more handsome in person than she ever thought. And why had she been so scared before? Why had she kept Michael at arm’s length? He was sweet. He listened. He cared.

“So, who’s the guy? A friend?” Her mother’s tone drips with the playful tease.

Fixing to keep the smile of her face, Odette spins, back pressed into the door. “Yeah, um, just a friend. My-” It happens. Even if her mother tries to deny it, Odette still sees the slight falter to her smile. There it is. Her mother being in the way. And Odette wonders for just a split second, if it was on purpose. “Just a good friend,” Odette corrects.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetheart.”

“Momma--”

“Eat. The food’s no good cold.” They eat with only the sounds of the TV playing in the background as their only source of conversation happening.

**********

I’m sorry. The last line in Odette’s text. An apology about missing their facetime call, after saying that she picked up a double at work. Michael gets it. Though her mother’s been able to return to work, Odette’s been carrying the brunt of pulling in the bulk of income. They’re not terribly behind, but they are just scraping by. The tensions are rising. The last time Michael called before Odette could even get out a word to him, her mother was shouting in the back.

Michael stares down at his phone. I’m coming to get you on your next day off. We can just go to a cafe or something and talk. Anything you want. Just want you to take care of yourself too. He waits. He shouldn’t expect a response so soon but then he sees the bubbles pop up.

Okay.

What no fight? Not gonna make me wrestle you out of your apartment, throw clothes and walk you out the door?

No fight, it seems when the text message sits for five minutes. And then ten without a response.

Odette’s already standing outside of the apartment complex when Michael pulls in. Her shoulders are covered in a tattered denim jacket. He can’t tell if it’s age or purpose that’s caused the holes. She’s quick to jump off the curb. There’s barely enough time for the car to stop completely before she’s opening the passenger side door. She sniffles, just once, wiping at her cheeks and secures the belt. “I don’t care where we go, just away from here, please.”

Michael suspects a fight with her mother. They seem to be happening more frequently. Michael tries to think of a place nearby, though he doesn’t know the area at all, and is interrupted by the guttural scream from Odette. One moment she’s quiet and the next her sweltering scream fills the car and probably can be heard from anyone on the outside too. Michael doesn’t say anything, just makes sure there’s no traffic and after about a minute she falls into the seat.

“Sorry.”

“You gotta let it out somehow.” Putting the car into gear, Michael continues forward until he’s able to find a spot to pull in, then back out off and then heads for the road. “My place is an hour out and maybe we can just hang out in my backyard. Just get you away from everything for a little bit.”

“I’d like that.” She’s silent for the first part of the drive, minus the few times she unsticks her thighs from the leather of his seats. “Thick thighs save fries but right now they’re not doing me many favors,” she laughs, mostly to herself pulling her thighs up again and readjusting.

“Sorry.”

“No need. I didn’t think these shorts would ride up this much.”

“The plus: easy to clean,” Michael jokes, glancing out of the corner of his eye to her. She smiles for a second, mostly a smirk and shakes her head.

“With this white leather, I don’t think anyone would dare think to make a spill.” They fall silent again. Much less tense than before. Odette, against all better judgement, turns to face Michael. She watches the earrings that dangle and catch the sunlight. His bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top lip. His head bops ever so slightly to the song playing over the radio. She knows about the band. Michael has talked her through countless hours in the morning about crazy touring stories. But yet, she hasn’t really shared much about herself.

“Sometimes I wonder if my dad was still alive if I could’ve left by now. If I could’ve found my break with designing.”

Michael, braking at a red light, takes her hand. “I’m sorry. That has to be rough.”

Odette nods, eyes tearing up. Traffic threads through before them. People turning, people continuing straight down the road to their left. “I hate working retail. But it’s the only thing around that I know I can get steady hours. I was going to try and move out by now. But then Momma got sick. She hardly takes care of herself since Dad died. She’s only got me and if I live, I fear she’d just let herself crumble. I don’t want her to think there’s nothing left for her.”

A couple cars honk. Michael looks up to the green light and sighs before continuing on. He keeps his hand locked around Odette’s. As tires glide, Odette squeezes at Michael’s hand. “I’m scared. I don’t want to break her heart. And if I let you in more, what happens? Do I lose myself?”

“Or maybe you find yourself. Maybe this is your story and if you fuck up, you just fuck up. In the end, if you stay, you’re probably breaking your own heart more.”

Odette sniffles, taking her free and clearing the tears. More well, more tears fall behind them. “Maybe, maybe I am.”

Michael pulls into the driveway of his house. Bringing the back of her hand to his lips, he grins. “How are you at video games?”

“I’m terrible at them,” she answers, voice wavering.

“Perfect.”

“Get back here, Michael!” Odette shoves him, still spinning out from the red shell that was thrown. He can only laugh, still holding onto the gas as his character crosses the finish line. Odette yelps as she’s hit with the flame from an NPC’s fire plant. “This is so unfair!”

She crosses the finish line in eighth. From the coffee table, her phone buzzes again. Another call, they both can tell by the way the shaking is consistent and long. It’s the sixth call since they got to his house. Who knows how many times she ignored the calls while she was in the car?

“You gonna answer that?”

“When I get first place, I will.” When she glances over to Michael, she can see the slight concern in his eyes. “I thought we were getting better, my mom and I. I thought that we would make progress. But she knows. I never said you were my soulmate and I didn’t have to. She knew.”

“We can do Moo Moo Meadows. It’s a chill map.”

“Oh, the cow is so cute! Please don’t utterly destroy me on this map again.” She looks up from underneath her lashes, a pout on her pinky and pouty lips. Michael’s not breathing. It all left him in a blink. “What’s that look for?”

Shaking his head, Michael turns back to the TV. Now’s not the time to be wondering how she’d taste on his tongue. “Nothing, nothing.”

Her fingers are soft on his chin, nails scratching just a little at his beard. Michael falls into the touch and turns to her. “No, what was that look for?”

“It’s not appropriate right now.” He doesn’t miss the drop of her gaze to his lips. Maybe it is appropriate. Now seems as a good tune as any.

“Try me.”

He leans in, slowly, centimeters at a time until their noses brush. Odette tilts her head and their lips brush. Just for a moment and Michael pushes in for a deeper kiss. Inhales that are sharp and lips that are almost bruising for something more. Odette pushes up into Michael, hand resting on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat.

“I still have to kick your ass in MarioKart,” she teases, pulling back just enough to speak.

Michael, hands now kneading at her waist, his remote fallen to the coffee table. He can only smell her hair, her lotion, only Odette. “If you think that you can beat me, you’re insane.”

“Then call me insane.” Her exhale is shaky and her fingers still clutch the soft black t-shirt.

“Okay, Miss Insane,” Michael laughs before they share one more kiss.

Perched on the kitchen island, Odette watches as Michael slides the omelette onto the plate. They placed a bet, the loser had to cook. With the winning combination of a Bullet Bill and three red shells, she managed to overtake Michael in fourth to finish third in the last race. He still placed higher than her overall in the tournament. With her breakfast for dinner handed over, she grins. “Thanks.”

“Bets are bets. I’m just still so shocked that you beat me!”

“It was only the one lap though.”

“Hey, no,” Michael interrupts her bite, lifting her chin. “None of that. One lap is still pretty crazy considering I am the King of video games.”

Odette snickers. “Yeah, okay, King.” Michael takes the fork, cutting a piece off. “Hey! That’s my victory omelette!”

“It was my hard work!”

Feeding Michael another piece, she smirks. “All you had to do was ask, you know?”

Michael grins around his bite, standing between her legs. He could get used to it. If he let his mind wander and he didn’t think too hard about the challenges of her home life. He could get used to her just being around, playing video games with him. Hanging out late at night, watching the stars maybe if they couldn’t sleep. “Stay the night with me?”

Odette sighs, setting the plate down next to her. She can’t stay the night. That’s too much too fast. But she can tell Michael is gone, hook, line and sinker. She couldn’t give in fully. Not right now. Sure that could be a thing that would ruin her and this, but for right now, until she figured out what to do with her mother, she can’t give in just yet. “I have work in the morning. And I doubt you want to be up at 5 in the morning trying to get me back across town.” It’s not a lie either. She does have work in the morning, but she has mid shift not the opening shift. Either way she should get home tonight.

“Of course, of course, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be. There’s still the rest of today. We can hangout. Do whatever. Do nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

********

“It doesn’t matter, okay, Michael. It’s okay.” Odette reaches in the dark for her jacket. Her keys are in the pocket. She knows because she remembers leaving them in the pocket, thinking she’d retrieve them in the morning. Sleep is still trying to shut her eyes but the panic in Michael’s voice shoots adrenaline through her veins. His sentences barely come out coherent, attempting to apologize for waking her in the middle of the night. “It’s okay. I’m on my way, okay? I’m on my way. Stay on the line with me. Can you do that? Can you stay on the line with me?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Good.” Finally with her jacket in her grasps and the slides on, she tiptoes down the hallway. The front door creaks open. Of course everything is louder in the night and it sounds like she could wake the whole neighborhood. But even if she did, she doesn’t care. Not if it means getting to Michael. In her car, she fumbles to get her keys straight. “Do you need me to pick up anything?” Her phone rests on the popsocket holder attached to her air vent.

“No.”

“Okay. Just stay on the line with me, baby.” The entire ride Odette keeps a tight knuckled grip, trying to think of everything under the moonlight to keep Michael’s thoughts occupied. She tells about her failed adventures in dancing, at least with classical ballet. She talks about trying to convince her parents into letting her have a dog. But that never flew. Pets were just too expensive. They were like having children and her parents couldn’t afford that. “If I could have a dog,” she continues, “I just would never stop adopting. Or fostering. I would just constantly need a new dog in the house. I could never be the crazy cat lady. I’m allergic.”

Her rant continues as she listens for Michael’s soft exhales or hums to let her know he was still listening. Was this letting Michael in? Or had she already let him in and this was just hte first time she was noticing it? Because her heart would never be at rest until she laid eyes on Michael and saw that he was okay, or as okay as he could be for the anxiety that was wreaking havoc on his brain. Maybe that was the thing about soulmates, maybe you didn’t really have to let them in. They had the key already.

At his house, she scurries up to the front door. Phone still carrying the time of the entire 45 minute drive. “I’m outside.” In the dark, she’s not sure she could find the spare key and return in without leaving it obvious. So she waits, praying and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

By the time Michael gets the door, he all but falls into her arms. She pushes to get into the door, closing it behind them. They only make it as far as the couch. Michael curls up into her chest, body still shaking and the tears still hot as they fall onto her chest. She didn’t even change out of the camisole, merely threw on leggings and the jacket before climbing into her car. “What’s going on? What do you need?” Odette asks. Her nails trail over his scalp.

“It’s just...hard,” Michael sighs. “I can’t shut off my brain right now. Some days it’s easier. But now it’s just hard. It’s like I can’t trust myself. I don’t trust myself.”

She hums. “I’m sorry, Michael.” They stay on the couch. Michael curls up in her side, and she keeps her hands trailing, up and down his back, humming. She’s never considered herself a singer, having only sang in the church choir as a young child. But that’s all and it only lasted for a few years. But she keeps humming, keeps filling the air until she knows Michael has fallen asleep.

Michael wakes first. His limbs feel like they’ve almost been detached in a couple places. But when he cranes his neck and sees Odette, he gasps. Her hair is wrapped in a scarf, the brown curls pooling at the top of her head. He can’t even imagine the time of day it is. It’s bright from the windows though. “Odie,” he starts softly. His voice is hoarse. His chest aches just a little. He remembers when the thoughts first started racing, all he could think to do was call her. “Odie,” he tries again.

She hums, arms tightening for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Let’s go to the bed. It’s probably more comfy.”

She nods, slowly pushing up. Her jacket is still on. She didn’t have a thought about it once she saw Michael. Now, it falls to the arm of the couch before she follows him down the hallway. In his bed, she pulls him back into her, kissing his forehead. “I��m always here, you know?”

He nods. “Thank you.”

When he wakes again, he can hear a hushed voice. Odette’s not in bed with him. “He needed me, Momma.” It goes silent and Michael shuffles down the hallway. “I’m not--I’m--Listen to me! He needed me. And that’s final. I did what I had to do. I can’t bring Dad back, okay? I can’t bring him back. I can’t make things better. But if Michael needs me, I would fly over the fucking moon. It doesn’t matter what he needed or what I would have to do, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But frankly, I’m 24, Momma. I’m an adult. I have to live my own life.”

Michael can see her, pinching her nose. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty. He just needed someone to talk to, to help him calm down. Odette spins, her jaw dropping when she spies Michael. She hangs up the phone, striding from the living room. “No, no, I know that look.” She runs her hand up his chest, bare without a shirt.

“I don’t like you fighting with your mom.”

“Mom and I are always going to fight. But if you need me, it doesn’t matter. You call me. Dead of the night, middle of the evening, crack of fucking dawn. You call me, okay?” Michael can only nod, taking her hands into his. “I can cook if you want. Or we can order in. I’ll let you win in Mario Kart, yeah?”

“Oh, you will not let me win in anything. It’s I who let you win.”

“You sure about that? Sounds like a lot of talk but I don’t see nothing backing that up.”

Michael glances across the way, to the clock. It’s nearly ten. Too early to call in for lunch just yet. “Two tournaments before we get food. We’ll see who comes out on top.”

It’s no question as Odette settles down that Michael will win both. But she’s happy to see him like his old self for the most part. He still settles in super close to her and when they wait, with the TV just playing for the food to arrive, he curls up in her side again. She knows the storm hasn’t left completely but they’ve caught the eye of it. They’re settled for the moment being and she’s happy for it.

Odette returns, only after making Michael promise to call her for literally even the smallest thing, to her mother sitting at their kitchen table. Hanging up on her mother wasn’t the smartest choice. But Michael didn’t need to hear her arguing not when he had his own anxiety and issues causing him turmoil.

“Don’t you ever hang up on me like that again,” her mother seethes, finger tapping on the wooden table to emphasize her point. “You let me know where you’re going!”

“Michael needed me. I’m sorry.”

“Just leaving out in the middle of the night. What if something happened? What if you got in a car accident? I would’ve never known. I can’t-” the emotion chokes her mother for a moment. “I can’t lose you too.”

“Don’t make this my responsibility. Don’t become the saint now when you literally almost took my head off because you didn’t want to follow doctor’s orders after your surgery. Momma, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been at each other’s throats for the last six months. Every time we turn around, you’re on me. You’re ranting about bills and keeping afloat. I am sick of being your punching bag. You’re really going to lose me. I can’t bring Dad back and I can’t stay under your wing forever.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Her mother stands, crosses their living room. “If you go, there’s no one else.”

“Momma, I’m always gonna be there. But I can’t. I can’t stay here. Michael was right. It may break your heart to see me go, but can I keep breaking mine? I love you, Momma. I do. But I’m suffocating.”

Odette doesn’t know when her mother will accept that. Doesn’t know when that will finally make sense to her mother. But at this moment, it’s a relief to get it off her chest. To finally stop tiptoeing this subject. This apartment is just too small for the both of them. Odette can’t fix her mother and herself at the same time. She is not a miracle worker.

But after leaving her mother standing in that living room that Odette knows she has got to change her life around. She has to move out. Find her own place. Start somewhere fresh and new. She’s started to get more commission work, mostly help with logos. Occasionally, she gets asked to help build the work for a website. Odette knows with everything that’s been going on, she hasn’t necessarily given as much time as was needed for this craft. But maybe now, maybe now things can start looking up.

*********

Micheal glances over his shoulder, fingers still working over the frets, not fully playing anything. Mostly just going over the progression before they lay down the track. Odette’s snickering, attempting to keep her laughter from bubbling. But it’s always going to fail. She’s always going to give into the life of her laugh. Calum’s phone is tilted towards her and not before long, she’s giving in. Her head falls back into the cushion, hands clapping together. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she wheezes, singling Calum out.

Michael only watches as Calum joins in, attempting to cover up his laughter with his own hands. “I-I had to,” Calum huffs out.

“Send that to me, please.”

“What are the hyenas on about?” Ashton jokes entering the room again. Calum only lifts the phone in return and now Michael can see it’s a picture of him and Calum, in their school uniforms attempting to act cool. It’s grainy now, upon comparison of the cameras on phones in this time compared then when it was taken. How Calum still had it, Michael’s not sure.

Rolling his chair closer, Michael attempts to take Calum’s phone. “You’re giving her trade secrets, mates!”

Calum’s quicker, ducking the phone back. “Nah, she’s allowed to get dirt on you, man.”

“It’s not that bad,” Odette attempts to recover. Tears are still pouring from her eyes. But she wipes at them and stands up from the couch.

Michael pouts as she walks over. “I’m sure you have plenty of shitty and uncool selfies too.”

“Yeah, and pictures my parents took of me buttass naked in the tub too.”

Michael snorts. Odette stands behind him, arms wrapped close around his upper chest. “What were our parents thinking?”

“They weren’t.” She punctuates the sentence with a kiss to his cheek. “But you’re still cute. Even in the dorky selfie. And Calum did kind of incriminate himself too.”

“Hey! I was adorable then!” Calum calls out.

“Sure, sure,” Odette says, directing her attention to Calum, “But that pose. The emo fringe that wasn’t fully a fringe.”

“Look, I didn’t become a fashion icon overnight. It’s hard work,” he retorts.

“Keep working,” Odette returns, snickering as the room explodes into a chorus of ‘oh’s.

Michael looks up at her, the disbelief but admiration dripping from his fromgaze. “I still have to work with him you know.”

“Alright, alright. That’s okay. I like your spunk though. Keep her around, Michael.”

It’s later than they anticipated by the time they leave the studio, which isn’t too off course for them. But Odette seemed ready to pass out nearly eight in the evening. Michael finds it endearing when he offers to end the night early but she refuses, saying that she didn’t want to interrupt their work. But now she’s curled up on the sofa, under Michael’s jacket to keep warm. Having not brought a heavy enough jacket to withstand the air conditioning of the studio.

“Baby, c’mon. Let’s go home.”

She snaps awake, even at the gentle touch of Michael’s hand. “Hmm?”

“I’m taking us home, so we can cuddle and sleep.”

“I want a milkshake.”

Michael laughs at the sleepy confession but nods. “We’ll get some tomorrow, yeah?”

Odette nods, keeping herself awake enough to follow behind Michael. Taking the week off feels nice. She doesn’t have to worry about anything else. She’s still working on commissions and has managed to pull some more steady weight income wise that way. She’s yet to move out. But she takes more time to hang out with Michael. Mostly at his house. Occasionally they go out, catch movies. It feels normal now for them.

As they slide under the sheets, Michael pulls her in close, arm slung over her waist. “Coming in tomorrow with me?”

“Need to work,” she returns, nose and exhales brushing over his chest. Michael kisses her forehead, allowing the steady rise and fall of her chest to guide him. But he doesn’t fall asleep, not immediately. He lays there.

“We should adopt a dog. Maybe two. And it’s gonna be awesome.”

“I vote two,” Odette returns after a long moment.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“So are you!”

**********

“You know what’s lame?” Michael asks, flinging his arms around Odette’s shoulder. Her screen is zoomed in on the corner of something. The edge is rounded and he can’t see the preview of the full image. He assumes it’s new work for a client. Work has come more steadily for her after working with an up-and-coming band. Michael happened to run into them on Instagram and they made a post about needing some help on the team. He forwarded the information to Odette and things took off from there.

“What’s lame?”

“I don’t see you in my dreams anymore.”

“You see me practically every day now!” Odette counters, setting her pen down and cranking her neck up. She moved in three months ago. It’s been interesting to say the least. But they have a good routine. Odette works part time at one of the local boutiques and still does work for design.

“Yeah, and like that’s definitely a dream in and of itself. But I don’t know, I miss talking to you in my subconscious.”

“You’re so weird,” Odette chuckles. Soulmates only communicated via dreams when real world communication hadn’t occurred for an extended period of time after they first met in person. When Michael leaves for tour, she expects he’ll crop back up. He’ll find her again at that park bench.

“That’s just a fact. But still, there was something about them. Maybe it’s because I thought you were the best thing since sliced bread, but they were kind of amazing.”

“That was the cusp of my life falling into the sewer.”

“But you found me there, so it wasn’t all that bad.”

She laughs, nodding her head and nudges his hold to slacken. She spins the barstool around. “I thought people who talked about their soulmates were fools. Like no one falls in love like that. Not through a dream and certainly not all at once. I mean, it just sounded so unrealistic.”

“Certainly not you, of course. But I’ll admit to being in the camp for falling in love all at once.” Odette rolls her eyes. “What can I say? You’re drop dead gorgeous. You know how to dish it out just as hot as anyone gives you hot shit. It was a recipe for love.”

“No, certainly not me. But I’m glad it was you in my dreams. No one else would’ve gotten me to eat pineapple on pizza that’s for damn sure.”

Michael laughs. “Maybe that’s what we get for dinner, yeah? To reminisce?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That won’t spoil your appetite for your dinner with your mom tomorrow will it?”Michael knows about the long standing pizza dates. They were hard to get started. Odette unsure if her mother was going to attempt to guilt her into coming back home. But after the first couple, things smoothed out. Odette wonders if her mother still felt haunted, even in sleep.

If no matter what her mother did or believed, she would always know that her husband was gone and not her subconscious would always try to bring him back. But it would never work. Her mother would never have peace. That scared Odette, if she was honest. Though she figured, there had to be something. There had to be some safeguard if that one of the soulmates died the dreams would stop, that her mother would stop reaching out for her father. And maybe there was, but there’s no safeguard on those memories. There would be nothing to stop her mother from dreaming for her husband, of all the times they shared before he died.

She hadn’t asked her mother yet those questions. But just imagining that allowed her to understand her mother better. She still hurts, still looks at her mother and feels that same uneasiness, like at any turn she could set her mother off. But she imagines it cannot be easy for her mother either.

Odette, finally blinks, staring back at Michael. Finally reconnecting back to their conversation from before. “Pizza is a food group. It must be had at least twice a week.”

He giggles, fingers tapping away at the screen for their order. “You know I think I might have to run that by the FDA before fully subscribing to it.”

“No need.”

“And why not?”

“Because I am the FDA and I just said it.”

“I take back what I said about not seeing you in dreams being lame. I’m glad to get at least 6 hours break from you.” Micheal scurries down the hallway once her gaze narrows. The dogs chase down after him, unsure of what’s happening but wanting in on the action.

“Just for that,” she hollers, “I’m not saving you the last slice of pizza!”

“You wouldn’t dare?”

“Try me.”

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wildflowerhigh · 5 years ago

Text

Chances (l.h.)

Summary: It’s funny how humans constantly miss what they’re looking for when it’s right under their nose, aka a soulmate au where your soulmate’s name is inked on your forearm

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: I forgot I wrote this, oops. Well I remembered, here you go, hope you guys like it!

PS. I’m starting college in a couple of days (I’m terrified, but let’s not get into that right now), so this will probably be the last fic I post in a while. I’m currently working on another fic, but that’ll take me quite sometime to finish. So I hope you guys enjoy this until then!

---

You sigh as you like your friend’s post on your phone. She had just recently found her soulmate, and had clearly decided to announce it to the whole world. You’re happy for her, obviously, but it’s getting a little annoying now. Everyone meets their soulmate eventually, of course, but seeing all your friends meet their soulmates and you not getting anywhere is making you a little antsy.

Everyone had their soulmate’s name tattooed on their right forearm. Some people had exotic and uncommon (at least to them) names on their arms, while some people had pretty common names tattooed on their arms. You were part of the latter group; you had the name Luke.

There were millions of Lukes in the world, how were you supposed to find your Luke in them? With the population burgeoning like it was, finding your soulmate was like searching for a needle in a haystack. And with a soulmate with a common name like Luke, the needle might as well be the size of an atom.

As for your soulmate finding you, they probably had it a little easier. Your name was quite rare, at least where you lived currently. It was a beautiful name from your home country, but you were tired of hearing the people around you butcher it and having to endlessly correct their pronunciation, so you just resorted to introducing yourself as your much simpler nickname. If you knew them and liked them well enough, you would make the effort of teaching them. You know that this tactic will probably reduce your chances of meeting your soulmate, because your birth name would be printed on their hand. But to be perfectly honest, you didn’t really care.

You close the app and put away your phone, focusing on the drink in front of you. You were at a club with your friends; they were already on the floor dancing, but you had decided you needed a drink before you got loose. So here you are, at the bar. You notice someone approaching the bar in your peripheral vision but you don’t glance at them.

“Excuse me?” a male voice asks, and you look up to see a tall man in front of you, blonde curls falling around his ears. He’s quite good looking, you’re not gonna lie. Casual dating is still a regular practice in this soulmate world; people normally date others till they find their soulmate, because being lonely sucks. You brace yourself for some cheesy pick up line, but instead he points behind him. “My friend Calum over there thinks you’re cute, and would like to buy a drink, if you’d like that.”

You lean over slightly to see another good looking man sat a little way away, and he waves at you, smiling. You look back at the tall man, who’s taken the seat next to you, and ordered a drink.

“And who are you, the wingman?” you ask, smirking.

He nods, picking up the glass that’s been placed in front of him. “He’s a really nice guy, sweet and respectful, and he isn’t too bad looking either, as you can see.”

You can’t help but laugh at the situation. “If he’s so nice, why isn’t he talking to me himself?”

The guy scratches his head awkwardly. “Because he’s… trying to be respectful?”

“Okay, wingman, but I think I should talk to him myself and find out what he’s like, right?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fair,” the guy says, blushing lightly, and gets up. He waves over his friend named Calum over, and smiles at you. “Have fun,” he says sweetly, before walking away. Your eyes follow him; you get a weird tingly feeling as you watch him disappear into the crowd, and you shiver slightly. It’s probably just the air conditioning in the club. You turn your attention back to Calum, who has taken a seat in front of you, and smile.

You introduce yourself, and the two of you start talking. The wingman friend was right- he was a really nice guy, and made good conversation. At the end of the night, he asks you out, and you accept.

Sometime in the middle of talking to Calum, you realize you never got the other guy’s name.

---

You and Calum have been seeing each other for two weeks now. You had gone out on a couple of dates, and you had a lot of fun. Obviously, you aren’t soulmates. But the two of you have decided not to disclose the names on your forearms to each other, to maintain a sense of illusion that this could work, at least for a while.

He invites you to meet his friends this weekend, and you agree- from what you’ve heard, they seem cool. You walk into his friend’s house and see other people sitting around, including the wingman friend from the bar that day. Everyone greets you, Calum introduces you, and then introduces everyone else. You discover that the wingman friend’s name is Luke.

You don’t think much of it; again, what are the chances of him being your soulmate? You’re tired of getting your hopes up every time you meet someone called Luke, and plus, you don’t want to make things awkward by bringing this up.

One of the friends, who Calum presented as Michael, asks you if your name (by which he means the one you introduced yourself with) was your birth name. This happened sometimes- people got inquisitive, and you had to go through the whole process.

You clarify your real name, and explain that you’re from a different country, hence the different sounding name. It takes you a second to notice that everyone is looking at you like you just dropped a bombshell.

“Is everything alright?” you ask. You see Michael glance at Luke, and you look at him as well. He’s staring at you, mouth open, like he can’t believe that you’re there. You get that weird tingly feeling again, and you suddenly get an inkling of an idea as to what might be happening here. But you don’t want to get your hopes up just yet.

Tearing his eyes away from you, he looks down at his fully covered arm, and slowly rolls up his sleeve. Tattooed across his forearm is your name, your birth name that you just revealed to everyone.

He looks back at you with crystal blue eyes filled with fear and hope. The tension in the room can be cut with a knife- everyone is holding their breath as they watch you roll up your sleeve as well, to reveal Luke’s name printed on your hand.

Instantly, it’s like something exploded in the room. Everyone is talking over each other in amazement, laughing. You feel warm and tingly all over, and you think Luke feels the same, from the way he’s looking at you.

Then you realize Calum sitting next to you, head in his hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I dated my best friend’s soulmate,” he mumbles, and you laugh, smacking your head with your palm.

“I can’t believe I met my soulmate but ignored him to date his best friend,” you remark.

“I can’t believe I set my best friend up with my soulmate,” Luke pipes in, shaking his head.

“And I can’t believe how stupid the three of you are,” Ashton adds, and all of you burst into laughter. Congratulations follow, and you and Calum shake it out. He informs you that he had fun with you, and you agree- two weeks wasn’t a long time, but it was a good time. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to a grinning Luke.

“Hey, soulmate,” he says, and the buzz that you’ve been feeling since you realized he’s your soulmate intensifies. You had never believed your friends when they told you that when you know, you know. Staring into his eyes now, however, letting the blue envelope you, you believe them. It astounds you how you didn’t realize he was your soulmate the moment you laid eyes on him because right now, it’s clear as crystal to you.

“Soulmate?” you smirk, stepping closer to him. “Maybe take me out on a date first?”

You swear his face lights up even more, dimples deepening, as he intertwines his large hand with your smaller one. “How about I take you on that right now? And maybe on the way, you can teach me how to pronounce your name properly?”

“I’d love that,” you say, giving his hand a little squeeze. You can’t help but notice how perfectly it fits in yours.

Looks like the chances of him being your soulmate were pretty damn good after all.

---

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parkerspicedlatte · 5 years ago

Text

Disconnected-Chapter Six (Luke Hemmings)

Summary: In an alternate universe where everyone has a soulmate, Luke and his soulmate share the rarest of them all. Some people have matching tattoos, others feel each others pain/emotions, but mental connections are the least common. The connection that Luke and Lynn share is that they can hear whatever song the other is singing. When they are close together they will be able to hear each others voices but for the meantime, they can only hear the recorded versions.

Pairings: Luke Hemmings x Lynn Corby (OC)

Warnings: Angst, smoking??? (maybe don’t read if you trying to quit smoking?)

Content: Angsty Luke, self doubt, like one sexual innuendo....

Featured Songs: If I Could (Jack Johnson), Space Odity (David Bowie)

He was dreaming, a familiar scene. A crowd gathered in front of the stage. They were jumping and dancing while singing along to the song he could hear in his ear piece. They looked like they were having a good time; the time of their lives.

Luke looked over to his left to see Calum swaying to the subtle beat created with the bass strapped to his body. To his right, Michael’s fingers were a blur as they worked up the fret board. Luke could feel the beat of the drum through the floor of the stage. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that both of Ashton’s arms and feet were working furiously. Luke was lost in the tune, but something wasn’t right.

The crowd was now swaying together but they weren’t as energetic as they should be. Luke looked down and noticed the guitar strapped to him. Instead of the sleek blue Stratocaster he was expecting, he was met with the sight of a dark cherry colored acoustic Martin. Something about the feel and the weight felt incredibly familiar. However, the capo resting on the third fret was neon pink. It didn’t look like anything he’d owned in his life; it didn’t even match the look of the guitar.

He looked back at the audience. There was not a single phone or light to be seen. Everyone was swaying together. The people in the front rows, the ones that he could see, were all in tears. Why are they so upset? What are we doing wrong?

Luke looked over at Michael and then to Calum. Both of them had put down their instruments. Ashton walked over to them, swinging an arm over each of their shoulders. Together, they swayed back and forth, like a couple of drunk sailors, singing a song they had learned on the docks .The beat changed from fast and energetic, to soft and slow. Luke could hear the lyrics but he couldn’t make out the words. But where was the music coming from if nobody was playing?

Suddenly, the audience wasn’t there anymore. Luke took a step back, nearly tripping over his boots. Where’d they all go? They’d been there just a second ago. Looking back over to the boys for an answer, he swore when he saw them starting to disappear, fading to nothing. Luke ran over to them, trying desperately to grasp them before they were gone. But he was too late.

Luke spun around, searching for an answer to whatever was going on. He felt like the whole room was spinning around him. He was still on the stage; the audience was still empty and his friends were still absent. Only one spotlight was left on. Luke hadn’t even noticed that the rest had shut off.

Boots, Luke could hear the heels of a pair of boots walking across the wooden stage. He froze at the sound. Bracing himself, he turned around to face whoever was approaching him. Just as the figure was within eyesight, another spotlight snapped on and rested on the person. The spotlight, however, seemed to have a reverse effect. Instead of clearly illuminating their face, the light reflected brightly off of them. Luke’s hands flew to his eyes to avoid be blinded. After letting his eyes adjust to the intensity of the reflected light, Luke still couldn’t see their face but he could make out the shape of their figure.

They were smaller than he was but he could tell that they were wearing heeled boots meaning that the person was even shorter than they appeared. They were holding a guitar that, unfortunately, obscured Luke’s perception of the rest of their shape. The guitar looked familiar, almost like the one he was just holdin-

Luke looked down and his eyes widened at what he saw, or rather, what he did not see. The guitar he’d just been holding was missing. The cherry Martin that he couldn’t find was shaped exactly like the silhouette of the guitar in the persons hands. Then he noticed it, the bright pink capo, it was now moved down to the second fret.

“Ground control to Major Tom.”

The voice, he knew that voice.

“Ground control to Major Tom.”

Could this be her? Could this be his soulmate right in front of him?

“Take your protein pills and put your helmet on.”

The chords were familiar to Luke; he’d played the song constantly as a teenager but not in years since.

“Ground control to Major Tom, commencing countdown engines on.”

Luke tried to take a step towards her but his feet were frozen in place.

“Check ignition and may God’s love be with you.”

To his left, Luke noticed an acoustic guitar resting on a stand. Not just any guitar, his guitar. The guitar he’d used all of those years ago when he was recording videos on his own and uploading them to YouTube. Before Michael and Calum had even come along, before Ashton had completed the band.

Luke felt his arm being pulled towards the guitar. He felt his fingers grasp and lift it by the neck and sling the strap over his shoulder. His fingers fell back into place, taking the shape of a C chord on his left hand while his fingers belonging to his right hand held onto the thin pick he didn’t remember having before. But he didn’t start to play just yet.

“This is ground control to Major Tom, you’ve really made the grade.” She started again. “And he papers want to know whose shirts you wear. And it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare.”

This time Luke joined in, his fingers using the pick to pluck and strum the right strings. Hammering on and pulling off of the fret board.

“This is Major Tom to ground control.” Luke sang. “I’m stepping through the door. And I’m floating in the most peculiar way.” Luke saw her head tilt slightly. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath.

“And the stars look very different today.” she harmonized with him, perfectly.

Luke had been practicing with Calum, Michael and Ashton for years, perfecting their harmonies. Yet Luke had never harmonized with someone as perfectly and effortlessly as she had with him.

“From here, am I sitting in a tin can? Far above the world.” they sang. “Planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I ca-”

She was gone, fading just like the rest. Luke threw down the guitar, he heard it splinter into a thousand little pieces flying in every direction. Again, he was too late. She’d vanished into thin air, disappearing as mysteriously as she’d appeared. Luke felt his stomach churn in knots.

“Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles,”

Luke spun around desperately trying to find her. Her voice remained yet she’d vanished

“I’m feeling very still. And I think my spaceship knows which way to go.” Luke looked down but he couldn’t even see his own body, he was gone too. But how could he still be there yet be gone?

“Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows.”

***

He woke suddenly, sitting upright so quickly, he vaguely noticed the rushed feeling in his head. He was clutching the blankets on either side of his thighs with so much force that his knuckles had turned white.

Pounding, Luke could hear pounding. He both heard it and felt it in his head; it matched the hard, fast paced rhythm of his heart. Deep breaths, come on Luke, deep breaths, he thought to himself. He filled his lungs then exhaled just as quickly, repeating the process multiple times, slowing down gradually until he was breathing at a normal, steady pace.

Luke could still hear the song in his head but something was off. It wasn’t her voice, and it wasn’t Bowie’s voice but something in his gut told him it wasn’t a cover. It almost sounded like it was her voice and Bowie’s overlapping each others.

She’s close! She’s close she’s close she’s close! His heart leapt for joy at the thought. I can hear her voice singing someone else’s song, she must be close!

“Shit, where’s my notebook?” he tore the covers from his body and leapt out of the bed, nearly landing on his knees. His vision was still blurry from sleeping. Luke pawed at the walls in search for the light switch finding it but regretting it immediately once he was blinded by the bright light.

Before Luke even let his eyes fully adjust, he was once again, tearing apart his bedroom in search of a notebook. He’d done such a sloppy job of unpacking that he hadn’t thought to put the notebook somewhere he’d be able to reach. Now he was kicking himself for being so careless. At that moment he was between crying and screaming from the frustration of his lost book.

“Ground control to Major Tom your circuit’s dead there’s something wrong. Can you hear me Major Tom?”

“Finally!” he found it under a jacket beside the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slid down towards the floor while pulling the pen out of the spirals holding the paper together.

“Can you hear me Major Tom?”

Luke opened the book to the page he’d last written in, scribbling down the information, making an entry for that day.

Space Oddity- David Bowie. LA time: 5:18 am Sadowa Time: 11:38 am

Note: could hear her voice and Bowie’s at the same time while in a dream. Must be getting close…

Luke sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. He knew she was close; she was so close yet so far. Luke brought his hand up to wipe his eyes that had started to water, nearly forming tears. He wasn’t going home or back to LA until he found her, he was certain about that.

***

Later that night, Luke found himself wandering around the cottage, not knowing what to do with himself. Does she know that I’m close? Does she even care? She clearly knows who I am, yet she hasn’t tried to find me. Maybe she doesn’t want to have a soulmate. What if she is part of that anti-soulmate gang that’s been in the news a lot?

Calum’s left hand clapped Luke’s shoulder making him jump slightly.

“You plan to keep starring a crack into the wall?” Calum asked him. Luke hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped pacing and was now starring directly through the wall he was facing. He didn’t say anything in reply. He wouldn’t have even known what to say. Calum must have sensed that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim packet of cigarettes.

“Need a smoke?” he offered half jokingly. Luke surprised Calum by looking down at the pack, sighing deeply and nodding his head. After Ashton, Luke was usually the one telling Calum off for smoking, but he’d been known to have a cigarette when he was beyond stressed out. Whatever Luke was going through, it had to be really bad for him to want a smoke. Calum had seen Luke break down and mope for days at a time and not smoke. He’d seen Luke ready to kill somebody who’d tried to screw them over and Luke still hadn’t smoked when it was offered. Calum grew even more concerned at the acceptance.

“Alright then, let’s take this outside because Ashton will have my hide if he smells cigarettes in here.” said Calum.

“Yeah, sure.” Luke agreed then turned to walk towards the outside porch. Calum grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and followed Luke. As he walked past the door, he half contemplated bringing a tissue box with him; Calum couldn’t tell what mood Luke was in yet.

The screen door shut behind them. Calum handed Luke a beer while setting down his own. He then dug around in his other pocket and pulled out a lighter. He lit his own cigarette then held out the packet and lighter for Luke. Luke lit his while leaning against the railing of the porch. Luke took a short puff of the cancer stick, not really caring for it once he had it.

They were quiet for a few minutes; Luke just stared off into space while Calum stared at the back of Luke’s head trying to figure out what to say. Luke hadn’t brought up what was bothering him and did not seem to have any intentions of doing so.

“Not to sound like an old lady… but a penny for your thoughts?” Calum tried.

Luke contemplated the question for a moment before finally replying a meek, “Noting I’m just tired.”

“Come on man, you’ve been off since you woke up. What’s going on in your head?”

“I just-” Luke sighed. “-I just don’t know what to do.” he finally admitted. “I um, I heard her voice this morning.” Luke told Calum in an almost whisper.

Calum’s jaw dropped. “Her? Like her-her? You heard your soulmate?”

“Yeah, very subtly but I could hear her voice, singing a Bowie song of all songs.” Luke rubbed his face with his free hand, something he often did when he was stressed out.

“Well mate that’s great news! That means she’s close, you can finally find her. Always figured you would be the first of us to find your soulmate. Must be that lead singer luck.”

Luke shook his head and said something inaudible in reply.

“Sorry didn’t catch that?” Calum said.

“She doesn’t want to be found.” Luke spoke, nearly chocking on his own words.

“Dude that’s nuts, she’s your soulmate, of course she wants to finally find you. Hell, if she’s anything like you she’s going crazy not being connected yet.”

“But how do you know? How do you know that Calum? She knows who I am and I don’t know who she is. She knows how to come find me and she knows how to end this empty feeling but she doesn’t! What if she doesn’t want a soulmate? Maybe she’s a part of that gang that’s against soulmates. What if she flat out doesn’t want me?” Luke’s breath was shaky from the emotions that emerged, the ones he had tried so hard to keep at bay.

“Luke,” Calum started softly. “She hasn’t gotten to know you. How could she, your soulmate, your other half, not want to meet you if she hasn’t gotten to know you enough to make that call?”

“I didn’t say it made sense. Maybe she’s read some things that haters say about us.” suggested Luke, a single tear slipped from his watery eyes. Quickly he wiped it away, not wanting Calum to see, despite the fact that he was practically shaking with contained sobs.

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.” Calum said after thinking about it for a moment. Luke looked at Calum quizzically wondering what his friend was talking about. “You’ve got to find her and prove her wrong. Show her the real Luke Hemmings. Show her how sweet, kind, and annoyingly romantic you are.” Calum told Luke nudging his broad shoulder with his own. “There’s no way she won’t love once she gets to know you.”

“Thanks Calum.” Luke said after a moment, emotionally touched by his friend’s words.

“And if all else fails,” Calum smirked. “Show her your wallet.”

“Ohhh Calum.” Luke sighed; face palming and shaking his head yet still smiling.

“I’m just saying,” laughed Calum as he stood up and patted Luke’s shoulder before walking towards the door to go back in the cottage, wanting to give Luke some privacy. “Stick a condom in between the credit cards!” he called over his shoulder.

Luke chuckled to himself as the screen door closed, letting the cigarette dangle from his fingers. He hadn’t put it to his lips in a few minutes. The ash at the end fell from the burnt weight. Luke didn’t particularly like smoking but it seemed to help him clear his mind despite the fact that the smoke literally clouded around his head.

For the first time in several days, Luke felt alright, relaxed even. But something inside of him felt wrong, he felt anxious. Then she started to sing, again, the same Jack Johnson song. He couldn’t her voice this time, none the less he listened with all of his attention.

A brand new baby was born yesterday just in time.

Luke felt himself swaying back and forth to the song he’d some to know so well. Every lyric, beat, and chord pattern had become so familiar to him that sometimes Luke couldn’t tell it she was actually singing the song or if he was playing it in his head.

Papa cried baby cried said your tears are like mine.

Luke took one last drag from his cigarette, putting it out in the ash tray placed on the small wooden table. He let out the smoke from his lungs and refilled them with the fresh air around him, succumbing to the song in his head.

“I heard some words from a friend on the phone didn’t sound so good.”

He sang along tapping his fingers against his knees to the beat.

“The doctor gave him two weeks to live I’d give him more if I could.

You know that I would now, if only I could now”

Luke smiled; he could almost feel her calm down knowing she wasn’t singing along so he continued the song.

“You know that I would now, if only I could.”

Series Masterlist

Regular Ol’ Masterlist

A/N: so what did you think??? I am actually super proud of this chapter and have been giddy thinking about when I can finally share this chapter with you guys! In the next chapter I am going to introduce you to someone who will become important soon I promise but in that time, just remember that she has a purpose. Come tell me on anon or whatever you’re comfortable with what you think will happen in the next chapter! Thanks for reading

-xx Reetz <3

Taglist: @madformichael @h0tsos @fiesty5sos @misskarynie @negative-love@captivatingcal @beautifulplacesforhappines@felonystevefoundthe1975 @mellany1997 @caswinchester2000 @babylonduke @castielanddeanthedog @katsen13 @abby-landolf @urpretendcrush @aulxna @to-the-road @pippin248 @blinkinglightsandmusic @lovcyou3000 @winniesutherland

Taglist is by no means limited, if you want to be notified when new chapters come out just ask and you will be added to the list! :)

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softforcal · 6 years ago

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Soulmate!AU Ashton where the first words you hear from your Soulmate goes on your skin and his classic "alright Los Angeles!" has always been on your skin and a girl you meet at Uni who is a 5sos fan sees your mark and freaks out, showing you the video and thus making you realize he's your soulmate

haha god, you’re in a lecture hall one day and a girl is looking at your arm where the soulmate mark is and you get slightly insecure about it seeing as you’ve practically given up on finding yours and she’s just kinda like “hey im so sorry but have you heard of 5sos?”

and you’re kinda like “yeah i’ve heard of them, why?”

she whips out her phone and faster than you can blink, brings up a video of some blonde drummer screaming “Alright Los Angeles!” with a super pitchy voice.

your soulmate mark kind of flares and you both just stare at each other with wide eyes. so your Soulmate is a famous rockstar. now you gotta figure out how to message the guy and have him actually pay attention because he’s probably had thousands of women trying to say they’re soulmates.

its one of those weird things, fate probably, where he’s actually in your city on tour the next day. fate always lines things up. you go. not worried about not having tickets. you know. this is your time. this will be fate.

part of you says to wait out the back of the arena but another part draws you to another side of the building. you’re not sure why but you go with your gut.

the concert ended a while ago and you’re staring to get nervous and then a door opens to the alley and a few big body guards come out followed by a group of guys and you know nows your chance, and then something completely lame leaves your mouth, “Whats up Chicken Butt?!”

i mean, its original. like who the fuck else would say that to a rockstar?

and he just stops. and turns. and stares at you. the letters on his arm flaring up and he’s just like… “you couldn’t think of anything else to permanently be on my skin?”

and you lift up your arm and show him “Alright Los Angeles”

he immediately knows what video you must have watched to realize he was your soulmate and just bursts out in a fit of giggles.

“it was an amazing first impression.” you try to assure him as security lets you through.

he grins, “also, i dont have a chicken butt.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin blurb #soulmate!AU #soulmate!ashton irwin #soulmate ashton irwin #soulmate!5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #soulmate!ashton #au #5sos soulmate au #5sos soulmate

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daniellesimagines · 6 years ago

Text

au where u spend ur bored time playing those silly facebook quizzes – the initials of ur soulmate, where ur gonna be in 5 years, what u would be arrested for – and after a few months u start to realize they’ve all been coming true

#5sos #5sos blurb #5sos au #soulmate 5sos #au #soulmate #soulmate au #prompt #someone that isnt me pls write it #and tag me!!!!!!! i wanna read!!!!!!!!

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lankydoodlelukey · 7 years ago

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the soul tattoo - fourteen

pairing: Luke/Reader (Y/N)

rating: PG-13: cursing, mentions of sex, etc etc

word count: a nice long 3k to apologize for taking two years to give you the next part of this story...

summary: If one day you woke up with a random tattoo on your body, you were destined to meet your soulmate soon. When (Y/N) finally gets her soul tattoo, she’s in for a shock when she finds out who her soulmate is.

masterlist // the soul tattoo season 1 recap

Luke’s POV

I expected my life were to get better the second (Y/N) was out of the picture. But I was wrong. I thought that if I made her feel the hurt I felt every time I saw her and Michael together, things would feel “even” between us. But as I lay in my bed, alone and staring at the ceiling, I wondered why I even felt this way. (Y/N) was not my soulmate, yet it almost felt like she was. I debated with this back and forth for hours. Before I knew it, it was four in the morning. We were to leave for the last leg of the North American tour in a few hours. I sighed. Why was (Y/N) the only thing running through my head?

Once the plane took off into the sky, I really thought that I would be in a better head space. Being on stage was where I was happiest. Seeing all the fans in the audience singing along to our songs and having a great time made each day of being in this band so much more worth it. I was excited to get away from all the soulmate drama. But when we hit the first city, I was distracted. I was missing my cues, forgetting lyrics, tripping over myself and completely forgetting the choreography we had during some of the songs.

At first, I thought I was just having an off day, but it soon became a frequent occurrence at the following shows. I was off my game just because I couldn’t get a girl out of my damn head. It didn’t help that every time I tried to hang with the boys during our free time, they would all be on the phone facetiming with (Y/N). A few times, I even heard her ask for me, but I refused to see/talk to her. I couldn’t bear it. People were starting to notice that something was up. I had to dissuade everyone and just tell them that tour life was getting to me, but deep down I’m sure everyone knew that wasn’t it.

The tour continued on for a month and a half. My soulmate had asked to come and visit me on tour, but I declined. I told her that I would see her when I got back. I still couldn’t understand why I was being pulled in (Y/N)’s direction and away from my soulmate. None of this made any sense. I felt like I was losing it. I found myself having dreams about (Y/N). In the dreams, she was my soulmate. We spoke about music and our dreams. With her I didn’t feel empty. I didn’t feel like an object. I felt whole.

The only person that knew about what I was going through on tour was Ashton. A couple of years ago, Ashton had thought he found his soulmate, but the job made it hard for him and his soulmate to be together. It was one of those rare cases, but both of their soul tattoos faded. They fell out of love quicker than they could fall back in love and restore everything. It was a hard time for Ash. There was a moment when he just wanted to leave the band because the pain was unbearable. We all convinced him that leaving the band wouldn’t help him. The boys and I were there for him during that hard time.

A week into the last leg of the tour, Ashton came up to me and asked what’s wrong.

“I don’t know, mate. My head is all over the place. I can’t get her out of my mind,” I said with a sigh. Ashton laughed.

“Luke, it’s perfectly okay to miss your soulmate!” He said, patting me on the back. I shook my head.

“That’s the thing, Ash. I wasn’t talking about my soulmate. I was talking about (Y/N),” I whispered. Ashton became quiet. He sat down next to me. We were in our hotel rooms, a couple of hours before our show in Atlanta. Calum and Michael were out exploring the city.

“Did you and (Y/N)…?” Ashton inquired. I scoffed.

“No, nothing happened. I would never do something like that, especially to Michael, or my soulmate, for that matter,” I said. “But, Ash. I’m telling you, the first time I met her, I just knew. I thought I knew when I first met my soulmate. But when I met (Y/N), I never felt anything like it before. It actually physically hurt me to see Michael with her.” I put my head in my hands and rubbed my forehead in frustration. “But I just can’t seem to find a reason why I feel this way. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Ashton laughed. I looked up from my hands and gave him an agitated look. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just that… that explains everything. It explains why you’ve been such a dick to her and why you refuse to see or talk to her. And why you decided to turn into a rabbit before tour and fuck your soulmate so obnoxiously,” Ashton said with a hint of a tease.

“Will you shut up about that?” I groan, slumping in my seat.

“So what does this mean?” Ashton asked. “Is (Y/N) your real soulmate?”

“You’re just as lost as I am, mate,” I said.

“Well, we have about less than a month and a half till tour is over. We leave for Bali a week after that and Mikey just told me (Y/N) is coming with. Can you get your feelings in check by then?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. (Y/N) is coming to Bali too?”

“I would be surprised if she didn’t…” Ashton said, trailing off.

“Great. This is just great. How do you just forget your feelings for someone you feel so strongly about?” I ask aloud. Ashton sighs as he stands. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. If not, write a song,” he says with a shrug and walks towards his room.

I sigh. This is going to be harder than I thought.

---

(Y/N)’s POV

The boys are almost back! It’s crazy to think that almost two months has gone by. To getting my soul tattoo, to being Michael’s girlfriend, it’s clearly been an intense two months. Now the boys are days from leaving tour and we’re set to leave for Bali in less than a week.

I was nervous. A few weeks ago, Michael had asked me to join him and the boys and all their friends. We were facetiming one night and he just blurted it out. At first, I was skeptical of the idea, but since graduating university, I hardly took days off for myself. I worked my ass off every day. I told Michael I would love to go, but I had to find out from my boss if I could go before I committed to anything.

I first brought it up to (Y/F/N) and her reaction was different than I expected. I figured she was gonna dissuade me from going.

“YES! Oh my god! Yes, you should go. Bali is gorgeous and you’ll have so much fun. You deserve a vacation, dude. I’m so jealous,” she said excitedly.

“Why don’t you come with us?” I asked. “You’ve already met Michael and you guys seem to have gotten along. Plus, it’ll be fun if we went on this trip together. It is a friendcation after all!” If (Y/F/N) came with me, I would ultimately feel so much better. She would help put me at ease having to see Luke and his soulmate together. I knew that I really needed to decide what I wanted to do with Luke. Tell him the truth or let it be? Despite me trying to deny it, I knew I still liked Luke. Having (Y/F/N) there with me would also help stop me from doing anything stupid, especially when there was a 100 percent chance tequila would be involved.

“I dunno, dude. I’d have to call off a whole week from work.” I saw her mind working as she tried to mull over the idea of going to Bali. “I wish Michael had asked you a month before and not a few weeks before they leave.”

I grabbed her shoulders and shook them. “(Y/F/N), PLEASE! There’s no way I can go on this trip without you! The hotel will be free because the boys are paying. I’ll pay for your plane ticket! C’MON!!!!!” I exclaimed.

“I’ll think about it…” she trailed off. I collapsed into my pillows and groaned in frustration.

“UGH. Why are you like this?” I sighed.

---

I eventually convinced (Y/F/N) to come on this trip with me. Her now fiancé wasn’t too happy about the fact that we were going on a vacation with a bunch of dudes, so he decided to tag along too. I was a little peeved, but at the same time, this entire trip was basically a couple’s trip. Me and Mikey, (Y/F/N) and her fiancé, Luke and his soulmate, Ashton and Cal with girls they met on tour, and a few of their band buddies and their girls. It was going to either be a giant party or a huge orgy... I was hoping it was the former instead of the latter.

When I told Mikey of our plans, he was so excited. I had called him the second I got the okay from my boss.

“Wait, really!? You can come?” He asked, excitedly. I laughed.

“Yes, Mikey! I can come with you to Bali!” I squealed. I could hear him jumping up and down in excitement. I had already started Pinteresting pics of Bali and things we could do and outfits I needed to buy for the trip. Michael was already sweet enough to cover my flight tickets and hotel rooms.

Now two weeks later, the boys were finally back. I was physically and emotionally prepping for this moment since Mikey had asked me to join them on their Bali trip. I had decided that after this trip, I was going to tell him the truth about my tattoo. I was scared, but he deserved to know. It gave me a lot of anxiety not knowing how he was going to react. I went too long not telling anyone and that is a mistake I regret making. If this backfires and he’s ends being upset, then I’m just going to have to face the consequences. I deserve that.

I was at work when I got a text from Michael.

HELLO, I AM BACK IN LA. WHERE ARE YOU AND WHY AREN’T YOU NEXT TO ME, the message read. I giggled.

I’m at work u idiot. I’m off at five pick me up for dinner? I responded.

LOL MY BAD YEAH I’LL COME GET YOU THEN

WHY ARE YOU YELLING I replied.

IDK IM REALLY EXCITED IM SORRY AJJDNEFAOIJDOAIH

I laughed. My little goofball. The laughter was soon gone the second I remembered what I planned to tell him after Bali. God, I couldn’t do this to him. How could I let myself be so stupid and drag this along? I shook it off. It’s fine. Less than a week till Bali, I can do this.

---

Luke’s POV

We were back in LA. We leave for Bali next week. I was excited to be back, but I was a wreck. The entire last days of tour, I thought I was going to be able to get (Y/N) off my mind, but the closer the date came to getting back to LA, the more I had dreams about her. She was taking up my entire brain and I hated it.

The second we landed I called up my soulmate. We got in a good fuck. She thought I just missed her, but deep down we both knew that this relationship had become purely sexual. If anything, she was a distraction. I felt awful for using her, but I felt worse thinking about (Y/N) with Michael. My life had suddenly turned into a live version of Jesse’s Girl. But since (Y/N’s) coming with us to Bali, I had to have something or someone to get her off my mind. We all know I do stupid shit, especially when there’s alcohol involved.

I tried to convince the guys to just make this a boy’s trip, but they all complained that they had already invited their girls to come with us. It was too late and I had to suck it up. As much as my soulmate and I had nothing to talk about anymore, at least we had something we could do with each other. Each day I spend with her, I realize how much we aren’t meant to be for each other. Coming back from tour and seeing her again in person confirmed that, even if the sex was great.

After my soulmate fell asleep, I put on a pair of sweatpants and walked to my balcony. I closed the door behind me and called my mum.

“Hey mum.”

“Hi sweetie! How was the flight?” She asked.

“Just fine, mum. We’re back in our LA house right now,” I said.

“Oh, that’s great! How are you? You sound down, baby.”

I sighed. My mum always knew something was up without me having to say anything about it. “I’m okay. Things could be better. I’m still so conflicted about my soulmate. She just doesn’t seem like the right girl.” I look through the glass doors to see my soulmate fast asleep on my bed, her bright red hair sprawled out around her, a huge contrast against the pearly white pillows I had. She seemed so quiet and innocent when she was asleep – completely opposite to how she was when she was awake.

“Honestly, Luke, the second you told me about her, I knew something was wrong. I know you wanted to give her a chance, but you sound miserable.”

“I know. I feel miserable. Do you remember that other girl I was telling you about?”

“Oh, yes! (Y/N)! The one dating Michael?” She asked.

“Yes, that’s her. I still think she may be my real soulmate, mum.”

“Luke, sweetheart, I’m only going to say this once because I’m your mum. Get your shit together. If you’re unhappy with your soulmate, then break up with her. Just because she may be your soulmate, it doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be with her. I want you to be happy, baby. But you can’t do that if you force yourself to love someone we all know you do not love.”

“What… Mum!?” I was shocked, my mum was never forward like this.

“I’m sorry, love. You’ve been calling me about this situation for weeks now. It’s been two months since you got your soul tattoo. I know you think that you’re going to have this great big love like your father and I - I’m more than sure you’ll have it soon, but clearly this woman who’s claiming to be your soulmate, isn’t making you happy and that’s fine. That just means she isn’t the one for you. Tell her how you feel. In the long run, you’ll both feel better about it.”

I was quiet for a moment. I hated that she was right. But all of what she said was true. I was too afraid to face how I really felt. I denied everything wrong with my soulmate because I thought it was right, because some unwritten rule somewhere said that I had to fall in love with my soulmate. It’s very rare, but sometimes these things just don’t work out. I had to face the facts one way or another.

Once I got off the phone with my mum, I went back to bed. I was so caught up with jet lag when we landed, but once in bed, I couldn’t sleep. I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling, just thinking. My soulmate was fast asleep next to me. I looked at her for a moment. She was beautiful and she was fun to be around sometimes, but deep down I knew she wasn’t my girl.

Hours later, I decided that after our trip to Bali, I was going to end things with her. I knew that that wasn’t how this whole soulmate shit is supposed to work, but I couldn’t bear another day being with her. I could tell that even the boys were starting to get irritated with her. They were just too scared or too nice to say anything to me about it. So that was the plan. Bali is in a few days. I just had to figure out how I was going to tell her and if I was going to confess my true feelings to (Y/N) after that.

---

yeeeeeet I finally gave you guys another part! I have to admit, I’m so freaking nervous about this. My heart is beating and my hands are shaking as I type this. I have written and edited and re-edited and re-re-edited this part and the following parts so many times. I knew that I couldn’t hold onto them anymore, so here it is. The only explanation I have for taking so long is this: life gets in the way and there’s nothing you can really do about it. Once time passed and I figured it was time to get back to this, a year had come and gone. I simply lost the inspiration to write. But here we are, two years later and I finally have the next 13 or so chapters ready for your eyes to read.

I hope you love it.

{r.h.}

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goodgodbean · 7 years ago

Text

Alive - Calum Hood

Prompt

Song - Heal by Tom Odell

Trigger Warning - Cutting

Masterlist

+++

It was a bad day. The worst in a while. After Calum came into your life you thought that you wouldn't be in this position again. But he was on tour and you were left alone, sitting on the bathroom floor, covered in blood. It was your own blood, but it had never been so bad before. It was just that you wanted to feel the pain that you deserved. You didn’t even deserve to live you thought. Maybe it was natural instinct to stay alive that you didn't swallow a bunch of pills, but you felt like cutting allowed you to stay alive. By feeling the pain you were allowed to hold on a little longer.

You want to call Calum. You want to call him and confess what you had done. Once you glance at the time, you know that you can’t. He’s about to go on stage. You shouldn't bother him, like you bother everyone.

You hear the front door opening. It’s probably one of your friends coming over to surprise you. You quickly stand up and rush to the sink to wash away the blood.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice calls. It is a man’s voice. You don't have any close guy friends except for 5sos… you start scrubbing at the dried blood, only causing the fresh cuts to open up again. You don't know why Calum would be home, but the heavy footsteps on the stairs say otherwise.

“Y/N?” He calls again opening up the bathroom door.

“Calum!” You yell with fake cheeriness, you hands still in the sink. You’re sure you look as guilty as ever. He take a long look at your face and then switches his eyes over to your hands in the sink and the blood on the floor. He lets out a long breath before taking your hands in his large ones and begins to dry and bandage them. He doesn’t ask any questions, but you can feel his sadness coming off of him in waves.

Your wrists are bandaged and you are both sitting on the couch downstairs, staring at each other.

“I’ll be alright” you whisper. Trying to put some weight behind your words.

“You always say that,” He says running a hand through his shaggy hair.

“What else am I supposed to do? Tell you how I actually feel? Who does that?” You say becoming agitated.

“Yes, Y/N. Yes. Please. Please tell me whats going on! It kills me that I have to be away on tour and you’re here doing this! What would’ve happened if I hadn’t come home? Were you ever even going to tell me?” He says angrily. You know its because he care’s about you but you can’t help but burst into tears at his words.

“No, no princess,” Calum says gathering you into an embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you okay?” You give a small nod. And Calum holds you closer than ever before. “I love you Princess,” he whispers in your ear. And all you can do is cry, because that is all you want to hear for the rest of time.

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annathesillyfriend · 3 years ago

Text

Anna's August Fic Recs

Welcome to my August fic recommendations masterpost!! This has been quite a busy month for me but I'm holding onto last weeks of freedom. I am trying to read as much before uni starts and I had a pleasure of reading some brilliant fics this month. I am so excited to share them with you all! I hope your summer is going amazing and to those, who have just started classes - good luck!

To all the writers - I love you and I appreciate you so much!

To all the readers - please, share the fics you read and love. The reblog really makes the change! It’s the least we can do to show our gratitude.

HOLLAND & Co.

✨ Tom Holland

revenges is sweet by @t-lostinworlds

series, social media au, college!au, football player!tom, fake dating, idiots to lovers, all of our fave tropes, i am invested in this series more than i am in my own life, it's just that good

sunkissed by @duskholland

one-shot, 18+, surfer!tom x lifeguard!tom, exes to lovers, h's great mind at its finest 👏

souvenirs of the heart by @veryholland

one-shot, brought me to tears no joke, such a beutiful story, mila did such an amazing job!!

heartbreak girl by @lauras-collection

one-shot, 18+, lead singer!tom, based on 5SOS song, this is so goooood 😫😫 this story lives in my heart rent free right nextdoor to laura!!

act 1: scene 5 and 6 by @youandtom

one-shot, best friends to lovers, helping tom with learning lines, i loved this very much!

happier than ever by @vendettaparker

one-shot, tom being the great lad he is comes to save an awful date and we stan

the trial of the eldest holland by @reawritesthings

one-shot, ex!tom, welcome to the angst town! this is so deeply heartbreaking but so beautifully written!

lucky to be in love by @hollandsvogue

one-shot, rose is going staright for my silly little heart :')

slide in by @uglypastels

one-shot, frat!tom, i fall in love with this story time and time again

white winged dove by @muhollands

one-shot, 18+, conuntry!tom, insert country boy i love you vine here (also, i'd like to take this moment to kindly invite you all to go through d's whole masterlist cause it's brilliant. this mj blurb has sent me straight to hell but it's so worth it)

abide by @hazofmyheart

one-shot, 18+, mob!au, tom x reader x harrison, this made me feel some type of way 👁👄👁

getting ahead of ourselves by @/hazofmyheart

one-shot, 18+, college! lacrosse player!tom holland x tutor!reader, this is soft, this is cute, this is hot, this is everything! 12/10 would recommend

✨ Harrison Osterfield

little lune by @dovenymph

one-shot, celebrating your birthday with haz, made me want a refund for my birthday cause it's so lovely 🥺🥺

it will come back by @greenorangevioletgrass

one-shot, part of the rich kid!au series, 18+, richkid!haz x richkid!reader x actor!tom, there are no words in any language that would let me express how much i love ava and this au

✨ Harry Holland

wild side by @softholand

one-shot, 18+, best friends to lovers, that trope was made to be written about mister harry holland, i swear

lost in your light by @spider-barnes

one-shot, 18+, best friends to lovers, bloody lovely 💛

falling in love at a coffee shop by @/spider-barnes

one-shot, college!au, oh to fall in love with harry holland at a coffee shop 😫

hope is frightening thing by @peterplanet

one-shot, writer!reader x first da!harry, her book gets a film adaptation and harry is being is wonderful self 🥰

my forever by @unsaidholland

blurb, talking about your future with him, it's just 🥰🥰

circles by @farfromharry

one-shot, rich kid!au, enemies to lovers, so wonderful!

MARVEL

🎂 Suz's birthday fics

this total babe @samwilsons-pillowpecs gave us four beautiful gift on her birthday! we adore you, lovely 🥰 these stories are all wonderful anddeserve their own category 💛

you're the glitter in the dark

one-shot, 18+, mob!bucky

if i could touch you...

one-shot, 18+, boxer!steve

love you in a thousand ways

one-shot, 18+, ceo!sam

miss your kiss

one-shot, 18+, biker!thor

🎂@rodrikstark ’s 1.5k follower celebration!

collecion of headcanons with our favourite marvel boys as well as some other characters, i bloody love them all but my numer one has got to be joaquin teaching you spanish 😌

✨ Sam Wilson

book smart by @indyluckycharlie

one-shot, librarian!sam x PhD student!reader, such a warm and comfy little story by my dearest cate who i love very much 😌

he we go again by @/xbuchananbarnes

one-shot, idiots in love 🥰🥰

adventures in babysitting captain america and winter solider by @princessmisery666

one-shot, reader takes the boys to disneyland and it's just so amazing!

stay awhile by @lacapucharoja

one-shot, black!reader, a saturday morning with sam 😌😌

slow motion by @ambrosiase

one-shot, 18+, sam in baggy grey sweatpants and no underwear, need i say more?

✨ Steve Rogers

bullies, bullied by @anika-ann

one-shot, my main babe is blessing us with protective steve and i love her 🥰

there's a peace in dreaming by @babycap

one-shot, i don't have the words to tell you how stunning this story is, please go read it

✨ Bucky Barnes

timer by @xbuchananbarnes

series, soulmate!au based on the movie TiMER (2009). i could go on and on about how incredible that series is but with dani it's a given, sooo 🤷‍♀️

the kids will be alright by @imaginationintowords

series, social media au, lawyer!bucky x interior designer!reader, single dad!bucky, single mom!reader raising their kid together as friends, also reader x clark kent. honestly this is one of my fave social media aus of all time. and it's got a sequel is coming!!

quick fix by @ocean-bucky

one-shot, tfatws!bucky x ofc, vidra is the queen of ofc's, you simply can't not love her characters!

grant (part 2) by @coffeecatsandsarcasm

two-shot, bucky's in a relationship with a single mom with a little boy, it's so soft, i love this little family!

before sunset, i fell by @buckysbiota

one-shot, modern!au, when i get drunk i get myself cake, when reader got drunk, she got herself a husband. a very fine husband 😏

alcohol you later by @/xbuchananbarnes

one-shot, is it the 4th of dani's fics on this list? yes, she's just that powerful

three flags up by @starbuckie

one-shot, 18+, campcounselor!bucky x campcounselor!reader, best friends to lovers, buck being a cute little puppy in love and i adore him very much

and he kissed me right there by @sunmoonandbucky

one-shot, veteran!bucky, age gap, this is so full of feelings and it's gonna steal your heart!

lost and found by @sunshinebuckybarnes

two-shot, neighbour!bucky, alpine being the matchmaker of the year and we love that for her

hazy dreams and good mornings by @angrythingstarlight

one-shot, 18+, firefighter!bucky, i think that's enough encouragement to read this gem 😏

✨ Joaquin Torres

red by @remmysbounty

one-shot, a truly exceptional story!!

hold my words, keep us together by @/xbuchananbarnes

one-shot, soulmate!au, just simply stunning!

✨Peter Parker

love lies by @rosyparkers

series, social media au, y/n is silk but peter doesn't know it, peter is spiderman but y/n doesn't know it, sarah is the brightest star in the universe and everyone knows it

sunset lovers by @duskholland

one-shot, college! au, soulmate!au where what your soulmate writes on their skin, appears on yours. i don't think i have to tell you that eveything written by h, my beloved is pure gold. the softest thing!

always waiting (for you to come home) by @peterbenjiparker

one-shot, reader comes to peter cause she needs him to patch her up after patrol, it's so funny and sweet and i just love it so much, m is the bestest!!

perfectly a little late by @/t-lostinworlds

one-shot, college!au, reader forgets about peter's birthday. or does she 👀 please, give a round of applause for this wonderful writer who's been feeding us so well this month 👏👏

this fic by @peeterparkr

one-shot, last kiss with peter :') nancy knows all the most beautiful ways to break someone's heart

the plan by @spideyyeet

series, aveneger!reader, reader likes peter, peter likes mj, mysterio shows up, lots of angsty things happen. it's so bloody good, my mates, go read it!!

burning red by @spideyspeaches

one-shot, avenger!reader who who describes people's personalities as colors, it's just a stunning story with wonderful writing and i love it!!

this fic by @mcumendes

blurb, peter brings y/n flowers and is very very adorable!!

kiss me more by @celestialholland

one-shot, first make out with peter and i'm just 😫😫 in love

the reveal by @cloudybarnes

one-shot, best friends!reader where she finds out about him being spiderman, so lovely!!

always by @ptersmj

one-shot, an absolutely adorable best friends to lovers moment

red-handed by @/vendettaparker

one-shot, stark!reader, morgan interrupts y/n and peter's alone time 😏😂

OTHERS

✨ Spencer Reid

as told by flowers by @reidingmelodies

one-shot, story about the progress of the relationship with spencer told by flowers (duh 😂), it's just wonderful!!

✨ Frank Adler

thnks fr th mmrs by @wiypt-writes

one-shot, 18+, reader goes to frank the night before his wedding, i love this with everything i have

will you hold on my love by @writerwrites

one-shot, don't come anywhere near this piece without tissues!!

✨ Ransom Drysdale

undercover boss by @chase-your-dreams-away

series, reader's working at drysdales' company and hooks up with ransom not knowing who he is. this series is so bloody good! i love the reader in here so much!!

a/n: if you catch some kind of mistake or if you see that i miscredited someone - please let me know so i can change that!

#anna's fic recs #august fic recs #fic recs #marvel fic recs #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #harry holland x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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irwinkitten · 6 years ago

Text

drown it out | l.h

requested: lmao soulmate!luke of course it’s requested pairing: luke x reader prompt: “ Promise me, that whatever happens, you'll remember me. “ notes: i wrote this whilst on the train to Sheffield for my mytt show whilst listening to ghost of you and honestly i’m sorry. also i played around with the writing, let me know if you liked it or not?? i’m experimenting and changing things up a lil bit words: 1.4k!

---

People never really believed the soulmate theory when it was put into test with many variations.

People couldn't believe that there would be one person who would fill the small hole that people had been describing as they got older.

There were so many beliefs on the subject that it became something frequently asked about. Celebrities were asked what they believed, politicians were asked if they thought the tests were truly real or fabricated to push the agenda of those who were simply lost.

Luke had never been sure of his feelings on the subject. He'd always felt the emptiness that many described before they'd met their soulmate. And in the vast emptiness, he'd destroyed himself to try and stop himself from feeling that.

Tabloids ran with the news of how he was spiralling, how his current arm candy had been caught with someone else. How he was becoming a burnout and the band had barely had their foot in place in the musical world.

It'd been Ashton pulling him from the pit he'd dug himself in that made him realise his feeling son the subject. But as the band began to gain traction once more, the new release hitting all the charts and sending their name soaring through the world, he couldn't shake the empty feeling that sat in his gut.

Part of that feeling had inspired so many songs on the album but he'd kept quiet about that, letting the others come to their own conclusions about the lyrics.

He was lonely.

Going back on tour helped to fill the void in his heart, it felt like he could breathe again with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, but he knew it was a quick fix to the sadness. It was still something he needed to deal with, healthily.

So he googled therapists who were willing to talk about soulmates, to help him from falling into the pit he'd created with his own hands.

And his therapist listened. They reassured and gave him self-help tips and he began to explore his emotions, his looks, who he was.

And he'd felt so much better for it.

And it was one of the days where he'd tried not to get maudlin about it all, to focus on the good that his soulmate was still out there. When he ran into her.

Quite literally.

His hands shot out to steady her, his fingers coming into contact with soft skin and he could've sworn his heart skipped a beat as he looked down, her eyes widening as they met his and he could feel his breath being taken from him as he realised who she was.

His soulmate.

"Hi." He breathed, his fingers unable to move from their spot on her arm.

He could physically feel something in his heart shift, and she was the reason behind it.

"I never thought---oh my." His heart sank slightly, but the look of wonder on her face gave him hope. Hope that she wouldn't laugh at him.

"I'm Luke." He finally murmured and she found herself offering a shy smile in return.

"Y/N." Came the soft whisper and he found his own lips pulling into a wide grin.

"Uh, would you like to maybe take a walk?" He hated the fact he sounded so hopeful, knowing she had the chance to absolutely crush his heart with one negative word.

Instead, she beamed at him in return.

“Of course, I, can I make a call first? I was meant to meet someone, but I think they'd understand." He nodded as she stepped a few steps away, her eyes still returning to him every now and then, almost as if she was checking he was still there.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I know we agreed, but---and you can't shout at me for this---but I think I just met my soulmate."

He watched as she winced, the tone clearly louder than expected.

"You of all people know this is important! I promise you, I would never ditch you like this, but please, for me?" A pause. "Thank you."

She put her phone away and walked back up. Luke immediately offered his arm and she found herself giggling at his actions.

"You're definitely better than what the news could ever say about you." He grimaced at that.

"I'm not proud of that."

"And if you had been, I'd be going back home." The sharp response came and he gave her a small smile.

"I'm still getting help for it. I'm trying to be better, but---" He hesitated, unsure of how to describe it to Y/N how he felt.

"It's a struggle, isn't it?" He was caught off by the soft tone, her features soft and kind, not an ounce of pity in her eyes, only understanding.

"I've been trying to function without relying on adrenaline to make me feel better." He admitted as they wandered away from the busy city, walking through a neighbourhood she clearly knew.

"And how's it going for you?"

"I managed it. I got to the point where I could focus on something else and it didn't hurt. Not as bad as it used to."

"But then you met me." She hummed playfully and Luke found himself grinning.

"Then I met you." They'd come to a stop in front of a small kids park, a look of nostalgia upon her face. Without a second thought, he laced his fingers with hers, making her look up in shock.

"Maybe this is where things are better for both of us?" His question was quiet, but she paused before nodding thoughtfully.

"Always, rockstar." And before he could do much, she pressed her lips against his and he felt his world explode into the most blissful feeling as his hands pulled her closer, holding her against him.

She didn't protest, pulling her arms tighter around him, almost as if he were the only thing holding her together.

News got out fast of his soulmate and at first, Luke hated it. He hated how he was demanded to talk about her, to tell the world her secrets. But he never did.

Her secrets had been hers to keep and he had promised they would never leave his lips without her permission.

She'd convinced him to move out of LA, or at least move to the outskirts of the city, more focused in the rural areas. And it helped take the pressure off him when they'd moved into their own place away from the hubbub of the city that never really slept.

As time moved on, he felt his soul heal from the damage he'd done to it. All because of her soft touches, her gentle kisses that left him wanting more. The way she held him on his worst days. She had helped him heal and he loved her with his entire being.

He reciprocated, making sure he was there when she'd cried out from nightmares that still plagued her sleep. His own soft touches soothed her bruised soul and helped her love once more. They had brought the best out in each other and everyone could see that.

But nothing could prepare him for shortly after they'd married, their routine set in stone, or as in stone it could be when he was home.

He was preparing for a day in the studio when a crash resounded around the kitchen and he dropped his keys and bag, racing to find Y/N sprawled in such a way that his heart stopped for a second before he dialled 911.

He was with her as they arrived and he was begging for her to come back to him.

She was alive, but barely.

They rushed her to hospital where they stabilised her, sending her for all sorts of tests to understand why she'd collapsed.

By the time that they'd sent away for the results, she'd come around, her eyes drifting in and out from consciousness as she tried her hardest to hold onto Luke.

"You aren't allowed to leave me yet." He almost begged her, with tears in his eyes.

"Promise me, that whatever happens, you'll remember me." Y/N whispered, her eyes holding his.

"How could I forget you? Especially with your carbon copy at home." He whispered. Their little girl, Sophie, had become the light of their lives a handful of years ago.

He watched as she smiled gently, her fingers lifting up to trace his jaw.

"I love you, soulmate." Her hand went slack, hitting the bed as Luke felt his heart stop with hers before it broke, a wail escaping him as nurses began to surround her, trying to pull her back.

But he could feel it, she was gone.

---

tag list: @cals-babylons, @plainwhiteluke, @calumsdemons, @wrappedaroundcal, @pumpkincalum, @blameiuke, @pumpkinsmashton, @irrevocablylukes, @astroashtonio, @catchinqcalum, @plaidpantsluke, @qualitylu, @5saucewho, @babylon-uncrowned, @dontstopisagoodsongchangemymind, @therainydays4, @my-world97, @silverchainbee, @hidd3nfangirl, @doodleasouarus, @hemmomfg, @mylovehes, @songforhema, @kinglyhood, @youngblood199456, @makecoffeenotwars, @5squash, @negative-love, @softboycal, @allltimehemmo, @you-of-ghost, @mzchnandlerbong, @jane-ofalltrades, @meetyoutheremgc, @lmao5sosimagines, @lietoash, @aw-hawkeye, @biggestslutforcalum, @drummerboy794, @itkindajusthappenedreally,

#if u wanna be added to the tag list just ask or message me!!!#luke hemmings x reader #soulmate!luke #soulmate!5sos #soulmate 5sos #soulmate 5sos blurbs #soulmate 5sos blurb #soulmate 5sos imagine #soulmate 5sos imagines #luke hemmings blurbs #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings imagines #lashton network #my writing

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calpops · 5 years ago

Text

finding forever | c.h.

Summary: He found solitude in running away from himself. He detached his emotions and left them on coffee stained paper bound by leather. Flickering fluorescent lights bid him farewell as he escaped a world in which just one touch decided fate. A world in which a future could be erased and taken by another. But when ink fades and becomes replaced Calum may find he’s on the path to finding forever. A soulmate au.

Word count: 6k

***

Snow lined cement and halos of light pooled down to glimmer against the glaring white from the street lamps lining the sidewalk. Calum felt the cold creeping past his bones, settling into his bloodstream and reaching his heart. Night always brought the cold back, but he preferred to feel the numbness tingle at his fingertips, it took the focus away from the burning loss that stained his skin. He trudged on through the snow, boots scraping the ground as he faltered to pick up his feet completely. He left a trail in the freshly fallen tufts and brushed himself off once he reached the cover of an awning. His late night rendezvous with a cup of bittersweet caffeine kept him awake but it also managed to keep the dreams at bay and left little room for doubt. The bell above the door announced his arrival to no one; the small diner always sat desolate at this hour, no patrons filled the pleather booths and the minimal staff had disappeared into the back.

Calum slid into the booth that had become a second home, the worn seat a familiar comfort, the stained tabletop an easy pattern to trace with restless fingers. He did not need a menu, he was nearly certain he had the two laminated pages memorized by now. It wasn’t the french fries drowned in vinegar or the slices of apple pie with extra flaky crust that kept him coming back. It was the privacy. The feeling that the rest of the world was drowned out behind venetian blinds, even if they were hung askew and rips in the paper let twinges of the city’s lights slip past. The aged waitress Calum had come to know and love poked her head out from the kitchen, gave him a knowing smile and headed back in; his usual order not forgotten. They both knew it stayed the same, Calum was determined to ensure that some things would never change.

His fingers found a familiar pattern on the tabletop, his wrist ached and fading colors that once seemed so permanent were a reminder that even the best things in life were not promised. Forever was just a concept and change happened. Whether he willed it to, wished it wouldn’t or was indifferent. Change was inevitable. Time would not stand still. The hourglass on his wrist was a lie. Grains of sand frozen in place upon soft skin was merely a facade; a glamorous illusion that gave false hope to something Calum had only ever known to be immutable. He didn’t know another soul who’s tattoo had been covered by another. Only her hourglass which had vanished and been replaced by the jagged lines of hearts beating in time with each other; all from the touch of someone else.

Self doubt kept him awake, jolted his body from sleep and ran rampant through his mind into the early hours of morning. He found solitude in running away from himself. He detached his emotions and left them on coffee stained paper bound by leather. Flickering fluorescent lights bid him farewell as he escaped a world in which just one touch decided fate. A world in which a future could be erased and taken by another. He scrawled out words he hadn’t dared to say to her though they burned at the back of his throat and sat heavy on his chest. He tore out the pages and crumpled them in frustration; scrapped them and left words behind.

The waitress came out with the first round of fresh coffee as Calum flipped open his journal, thumb fidgeting with the eraser on the top of the pencil in his grasp. Some nights words came easy; the fluid motion of the lead unstoppable as he poured pieces of his heart and soul onto paper. Other nights his hand stayed still, mind reeling; thoughts unable to translate to the page. What he could jot down got erased, eraser bits blown off the page until the remnants of lead and wrong words made a mess of the page. Tonight was the latter. His mind was cluttered and the ache in his wrist kept his hand from moving. He thanked the waitress with a smile and head nod, sleep deprived mind and body craving a kick of caffeine. Calum’s mind was chaotic yet at a standstill as he took his first sip of coffee and let his shoulders roll back, grip on his pen loosening.

The silence of the diner save for the rare clatter from the kitchen was calming. The city slept and Calum ventured to find something more than four walls that reminded him of a past he would never get back. She was too much a part of it all, her paint color took over the walls, her decorative pillows were still stacked in a pile at the foot of the bed. He couldn’t sleep in a room she had created of her own tastes and abandoned for something—someone—better. The storm made up of things that never would be anymore broke as the bell at the entrance dinged. Calum’s gaze shot toward the door as it opened. A woman walked in, hair wind blown and jacket undone although snow still fell from the sky. Calum couldn’t imagine the bite of the air on exposed skin other than digits that went numb in mere minutes. She came into the diner in a light flurry, as graceful as snowflakes blending into piles of white.

Calum straightened his posture, curious eyes following as she did not hesitate to slide into a booth just one away from his. For a moment he wondered if she was aware of his presence or if the world around her was as much a whirlwind as she was. He considered it for a moment; until she looked up and their gazes met in a soft collision that left Calum winded. He wrote it off to surprise, never once had his private escape been intruded upon; the ridiculous hour usually kept people away. Three in the morning was not for the masses. It was for slow heartbeats, soft sheets and safety only slumber could provide. Only those weary yet wired truly knew three in the morning. Calum couldn’t help but question why it seemed she was no stranger to such a time.

She let the corners of her mouth upturn ever so slightly, ever so slowly; easy eyes somehow softening even more as Calum couldn’t find it within himself to look away. From the steady gaze her eyes kept on him he figured neither could she. Sleepless nights painted exhaustion subtly across her eyes and Calum knew his mirrored hers. The silence of the diner was nearly palpable; the only thing Calum could hear was his heartbeat thumping in his ears; the rhythm reverberating through his entire being. Had the moment not been interrupted by the waitress cutting past Calum to get to the new customer’s booth he might have recognized the moment for what it truly was.

The waitress set a mug down as if in the same practiced way Calum’s coffee was ordered without words and delivered with familiarity. As the waitress disappeared into the back once more Calum dared himself to break the veil of tension and silence with the rise of an inquisitive eyebrow and a guessing smirk.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she stated while Calum questioned—words said at the same time making smirks deepen and eyes brighten.

“Mind if I join you?” Calum asked after taking a moment to gather enough courage to form the words.

He wasn’t sure why he asked. All he knew was that he was in motion as soon as she gestured for him to join; giving him a nonverbal okay with eyes following his every step and what he could only hope and plead was a smile hidden behind the lip of her mug as she took a sip. It only took a few steps to join her in the booth one down from his usual. He slid into the opposite side, journal and coffee in his clutches as he came to settle. He noted the arch of one of her eyebrows as she placed her mug down and folded her hands on the tabletop. Her eyes trailed down and fixated on leather bound privacy that held Calum’s secrets. His grip tightened on the journal; a natural reflex to wondering gazes and probing interest. But his hold relaxed when her fingers tapped a slow rhythm against her own journal laid on the side of the table. He figured she understood; worlds of secrecy kept together by covers and unspoken words.

“Restless minds think alike?” Calum asked, voice thick and a little unsteady, it rode waves of uncertainty and a newfound nervousness. He wasn’t sure why flickering gazes and similar escapes made his body buzz and heart thrum to a beat he was unfamiliar with.

She nodded, hand quickly dragging her journal closer to her. Calum noted the confident shadow of a smirk begging at her lips as her gaze focused in on the pencil that laid across his journal.

“Unsure of yourself?”

Calum’s head quirked to the side; the question was bold but said with a soft spoken voice and punctuated with authentic curiosity. At first the question and it’s meaning surpassed Calum’s understanding. All until he noticed fidgeting fingers clicking at the top of a pen she had procured. Ink was certain and permanent; or so it was thought. Graphite could be erased and forgotten. Calum found the minute differences in their restless adventures amusing, the quip she had offered an invitation for conversation.

The waitress came out before Calum could properly collect his thoughts and form a worthy response. The waitress didn’t comment on the new seating arrangement though Calum’s skin prickled when quick and curious glances were exchanged. Mugs were filled and the warmth of coffee and cocoa steam filled the air; the winter bite warded off and replaced by heat that drove Calum to shrugging out of his jacket and she—on the opposite end of the booth—merely rolled up her sleeves and brushed her hair out of her face.

Calum abandoned the protective grip on his journal in favor of wrapping his hands around the mug, faded colors now vulnerable to eyes smart enough to glance down. Calum cleared his throat into the silence as the waitress retreated into the back once more. He took a quick sip of coffee; the burn a pleasant and welcome sensation that started slow sparks as Calum’s thoughts came together and a response sat on the tip of his tongue.

“Not unsure of myself. So sure that I know mistakes will be made; luckily nothing is permanent, not even ink.”

A smug smile begged at the corners of Calum’s mouth but he kept it at bay as she gave him a quizzical look.

“Not even ink?” She repeated as a question, pen tapping against the tabletop.

“Time will fade it. All those certain strokes will eventually disappear. Words will be lost,” he answered in a low murmur, surprise evident that the conversation began so deep.

“Luckily art lives forever,” she responded without missing a beat; her free hand opening the hardcover journal in a sweeping motion.

Calum realized they weren’t so alike after all. He was leather bound words kept secret with no notion of permanence. She was binder bound sketches open to the world and concepts such as forever. His eyes landed on looping sketches etched in ink. Mistakes did not live within the book; accidents created opportunities and livened cityscapes that decorated dotted pages.

“Time is just another concept. Forever can never be found or proven,” Calum retorted but there was no bite in his words, only a forlorn lilt that shone light on the possible fact that there was a chance Calum wanted to be proven wrong.

Her lips pursed in her moment of pause before she slowly reached across the laminate tabletop and lightly tapped the click top of her pen to a fading hourglass. One eyebrow arched and her inquisition made Calum squirm, feet shuffling under the table but wrist staying still. She bit her lip as she pulled away, Calum hyper aware of the carefulness in which she took to ensure she did not touch him. As her teeth pulled away from her lower lip, catching for only a moment, she shifted in her seat and sighed.

“I guess you’re right. Even certainties promised to us may not be forever,” she replied as Calum let his hand wrap around his wrist, covering a faded forever in an attempt to forget it. “After all, promises are made to be broken, forever can never be proved. Maybe soulmates are just as much a faulty concept as time and permanence.”

“How’d you know it was from my soulmate?” He asked quickly, voice hitching and heart racing. He omitted the fact she was no longer his; that her hourglass had disappeared in one snap moment in favor of something and someone more. He figured inquisitive eyes and deductive reasoning had put enough of the details together.

Her eyes swept over his bare arms and the answer clicked for Calum in time with her shrug and simple answer. “It’s the only one in color; no matter how faded it is. I figured it must have been for a special reason or person. Or both.”

Calum instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. Defensive position warding off the intrusive memories that flickered past his thoughts. For a moment he wished he hadn’t shrugged out of his jacket and that her eyes hadn’t landed on truths too painful to speak aloud. But when he looked back up at her and saw only empathy and sincerity he relaxed. It wasn’t easy to let go of the past but the tight grip that remained was starting to strain as well. Calum swallowed down his reservations and watched as she backtracked—intrigued at the story her eyes begged to be able to tell, that perhaps needed to be heard.

“But what do I know? I’m just a stranger. A stranger who’s never had and may never have a soulmate at that. I’m not exactly well versed.”

Her words had rough edges but her voice still held a softness that only hope could produce.

Calum felt unbridled honesty build, he bit his tongue, mind warring with the words that pleaded to be voiced. He let out a sharp breath and let his voice dip low. He’d hardly opened up to anyone since ink had faded, but sat with a perfect stranger with curious eyes and concepts that didn’t quite match his own left honesty tumbling from his lips.

“My soulmate moved on without me, found someone better and let me fade away completely,” he let out in one fell swoop of a breath. He kept his voice quiet, just loud enough for the two to hear, as if in an attempt to keep the words from escaping the small world they had created. Calum wasn’t sure he’d ever say the words outside of three in the morning; there was something secretive and safe about the dark sky, as if the moon and the stars were worthy companions to share secrets.

She leaned back in her seat, abandoning the half finished mug and sketchbook looming on the laminate tabletop in favor of crossing her arms over her chest. A near imitation to Calum’s defensive pose but done in an easier fashion, it was less to ward off the world and more to hold one together. He could sense that thoughts were tumbling through her mind. He wondered how much she was censoring; if there were words she dared to not speak aloud, if three am wasn’t as inviting for secrets. He wouldn’t blame her.

“I’ve never loved and lost,” she started and Calum nodded slowly, waiting for the usual spiel of that being a lesser of two evils. “Maybe I’m better never having known love at all.”

Calum sat stunned, silent through a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. She shrugged, implying she was on the side of the unknown. Before Calum could get another word out she placed a few dollars on the table and gathered her things. And as gracefully as she had come into the diner—just a flurry flying past—she stood and made way towards the door. Calum stood abruptly too, legs narrowly avoiding a collision with the table as he slid out of the booth, one hand outstretched and a last call falling from his lips.

“Wait!”

She turned, eyes expectant and hip jutting out as she stalled her steps. She licked her lips and cocked her head to the side, waiting for him.

“Yes?”

Calum cleared his throat and took a step forward to marginally close the distance that felt craterous between them. He didn’t understand how he had felt so close to her; so willing to admit truths he had kept trapped and buried for so long. The hand he had reached out dropped and he tucked it into his pant’s pocket, unsure what else to do.

“I didn’t even get your name,” he realized out loud and was taken aback as he was caught in the crossfire of the glimmer in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied around a smirk and began to close the distance between them.

Calum was dizzy, vision tunneling in as she reached a poised hand out, fingers brushing his jawline as she stood on the tops of her toes and let her lips briefly kiss his cheek. Calum said nothing, was too wrapped up in the tingle that shot up his spine and reverberated through his body as she pulled away. He didn’t notice at first; wrist so prone to a numbing burn that the spread of warmth was easily written off.

“See you around, hourglass,” she whispered before walking away; only the ding of the bell on the door alerting Calum back to reality.

Without words and breath trapped in his chest he backed up to his seat, dropped unceremoniously and finally chanced a look down. The warmth in his wrist was still prevalent and vision creeping with darkness at the edges. His fingers curled into his palm as he turned his wrist and watched the hourglass fade and in the frame of the timekeepers place an infinity symbol appeared. In a split second he was back on his feet, racing for the door she had exited mere moments before. He rushed back out, early morning light greeting him and the concept of time blurring how long they’d sat in the booth together. Dawn had broken in the time they’d discussed forever.

She was nowhere to be found. Footsteps made paths in the snow that had yet to be cleared off the sidewalks but they ventured into crossing steps. Calum’s heart sank, bone chilling wind biting at exposed skin; cooling the warmth of infinity. The snow had stopped falling when Calum was behind askew blinds and blinded by the concept of soulmates. His shoulders sagged as he walked back into the diner, the sound of the bell hollow in his already ringing ears. The waitress reappeared from the back, a sympathetic smile greeted him as he gathered his jacket and left his tip. Before he could get out the door the waitress spoke up.

“She’ll be back. She’s as regular as you. One in the morning is her usual.”

Calum turned back to the waitress with a thankful head nod then escaped out the door; the notion of early morning escapes meaning so much more now. He’d come back and he’d hope that his own theory of forever could be proven wrong. He’d pray that the infinity symbol still simmering on his skin had graced hers too.

***

Calum found himself back at the diner on a consistent schedule as snow stopped falling and started melting. Rain washed away the remnants of winter and brought bloom to spring flowers hidden in the dark hours of one in the morning. Calum had found no trace of her, she hadn’t showed up and he found himself waiting hours on end each morning. He had warred with himself, caught in a mess of contradictory thoughts that left him feeling numb. He didn’t know why he chased after something he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore. His favorite waitress retired and his restless mind only wandered further into depths of uncertainty. He questioned himself; his antics weighing heavily on his own shoulders. It tested his patience and ability to hold onto frayed belief. He reconciled that maybe he wanted to believe. And that wanting was the first step to doing. If he couldn’t believe in forever, maybe he could believe in her instead. His friends caught glimpses of the infinity symbol and wondered where the hourglass had gone; they worried his late night habits had become too much for him to shoulder. The exhaustion painted under his eyes was prominent, the heartache on his sleeve apparent. His best friend Ashton tried to rally him; convinced him that for just one night he could stay away.

Calum was dragged to a fair, spinning lights blending in with the stars; time passing in sync with the motion of the ferris wheel and carousel. There were glimmers of positivity shining in the night air. Yet Calum’s shoulders sagged in defeat as he leaned against a chain link fence separating fairgrounds from common land. Ashton stood beside him, his attitude and outlook much more positive than Calum’s had been over the course of winter to spring. It’d taken a lot of bargaining on Ashton’s behalf to get Calum away from his thoughts and self imposed diner schedule. Pleather booths and restless thoughts were much less adventures for the insomnia that continued to plague him and more a desperate plea—a cry to be heard bellowed out into dark hours, heard only by the moon and stars.

“You gotta stop thinking about it. About them; whoever they are. Give yourself one night of peace,” Ashton’s voice cut through the haze of thoughts swirling through Calum’s mind.

Calum hadn’t voiced the diner experience; he’d left gazes in curiosity and questions unanswered in favor of hastily changing the subject. His hand found way to his wrist as if on instinct, the new tattoo tingling as if a reassurance it was still there and she was out there somewhere. Calum could only wonder if perhaps an infinity symbol tingled on her wrist in that moment too, or if nothing stained her skin and she went on under the impression she might never have a soulmate. Calum realized something pertinent in that moment, let his shoulders roll against the fence so he could face Ashton. Shadows cut across his best friend’s face but Calum could still note the sincere worry that captured his expression.

Calum let his wrist go, dipped his hand into his jacket pocket and sighed. He knew Ashton’s words were valid and said only because he needed to hear them. Calum nodded as if trying to convince himself, the subtle motion going unnoticed by Ashton who gazed up at the night sky. A slight breeze rustled past the fairgrounds and stirred up the ability to let words out in a rush.

“I felt it. I didn’t know it at the moment. I was so used to the numbing burn of the hourglass fading that the warmth of the infinity symbol went past me. By the time I collected myself she was out the door and gone. She didn’t come back. What if she doesn’t have an infinity symbol too?”

Ashton’s eyes flickered down from the stars to look at Calum quizzically. Calum knew Ashton was piecing everything together. He may not have explained the early morning at the diner but the tattoo on his wrist said more than words ever could.

“Impossible. You have the tattoo to prove it.”

Calum mused over that for a moment and had a fleeting hope that consumed his heart. He wanted to believe Ashton’s words. The skepticism of forever and time merely being a concept drifting from Calum’s once steadfast opinion as the minutes ticked by each morning at the diner. The silent solace had become a place of introspection in the face of her absence. His eyes and fingers had traced loops that covered defined edges of a timekeeper.

“Maybe she’s my soulmate but I’m not hers.”

Ashton let out a bellow of a breath and shrugged.

“Then I guess that’s why she didn’t come back,” Ashton said plainly, the negative sentiment to the words jarring Calum.

It only took a split second for Calum to realize the play at reverse psychology; that Ashton was trying to turn the table to make Calum convince himself it was foolish to think he might not be her soulmate. But there was an ever present and ever so persistent crashing reality that sounded like breaking waves in his ears and felt like being pulled underwater—breath gone and chest tight—as he realized his old soulmate had left a tattoo on his skin and moved on before he could. What’s to say a new tattoo on him meant a first tattoo on her?

Calum shook himself; tried to take Ashton’s advice and not think about it. At least for one night. Ashton’s partner came bounding towards them to take Ashton away, words of the carousel filling the air. Ashton bid Calum a farewell with a nod and last words about enjoying the fair while it lasted before he took off with his own soulmate. Calum had never been envious of the matching pink rose tattoos that adorned their skin. Not when two hourglasses still graced his life. Now, with a symbol of eternity and no knowledge of another he felt the swooping pulls of envy tug at fragile heart strings. He decided it’d be best to separate himself, if his mind wouldn’t stray away then he’d beg his feet to move and take him somewhere soulmates and envy and doubt could hopefully melt away.

Calum wandered aimlessly for a while, passed patrons with smiles that emanated glee and shouldered a need for happiness onto Calum. All his spiteful words against the notion of soulmates and concept of forever seemed to follow him in menacing shadows that danced around in pairs. His eyes caught sight of the carousel, happiness ever rounding and only stopping for newcomers. He kept moving along the grounds, crunch of gravel under feet softening to grassy steps as he furthered himself along. Situated at the ends of the grounds was the Ferris wheel; it stood tall and endless. Dauntingly reminiscent of infinite loops that replaced frozen time.

Although Calum couldn’t place why there was a pull for him to head toward the Ferris wheel he listened to the silent feeling that led him forward. The line wasn’t long and he had just enough tickets in his pockets for one go around. He eyed the structure, the lights that spun in infinite circles were entrancing as the short line moved ahead. Soon enough he found himself sitting, an empty space beside him and the end of the line staring blankly back at him. The operator was set on waiting for a moment; an attempt to fill empty seats before the ride began. Calum had cast his gaze up, night sky peeking back at him between metal and illuminations.

“Mind if I join?” An all too familiar and nearly long lost voice broke Calum’s reverie. It was a voice he tried his best to keep in his mind, a voice that lingered when sleep finally came and dreams gave him back what was missing. It was a voice that had admitted defeat and given into Calum’s notion that forever was just a concept and that nothing was permanent; not even soulmates.

He turned suddenly, she was backlit by the lights of the fair and wearing a timid smile that sent flutters of nerves storming through Calum’s stomach. Uncertainty knocked around his ribs as he managed a nod and she slid into the seat next to him, his eyes immediately flitting down to her jacketed wrist. His fingers curled into his own sleeve, keeping it secret and secure as he swallowed down a lump in his throat. They sat closer than they had at the diner with a table between them. If Calum moved his leg just an inch they would collide and his heart might hammer out of his chest.

“You never showed up again,” Calum murmured without realizing the words would slip out.

As the ride began Calum wished he had bitten his tongue. But that want was washed away when confused eyes found his and an indecisive hand roamed with fingers gripping a jacket sleeve. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and her eyebrows furrowed before the confusion broke and an incredulous look of disbelief crossed her face.

“I did. Every three am. I peeked inside an empty diner; you were never there.”

The Ferris wheel began its climb up toward the stars in a slow grating fashion and Calum’s wrist tingled as he brought his hand to his face; fingers nimbly and absentmindedly rubbing at his jawline. A bubble of disbelief simmered below the surface and it took all of Calum to not let it burst in a wave of near hysterical laughter. They had been chasing each other, endlessly running on each other’s times to seek out what might be infinite. He had yet to see a looping symbol stained on her skin but the fact she had been searching for him left once fractured pieces of hope mending themselves. In one unthought out moment he dared to reach for her hand and she let him, he pulled her jacket sleeve up and let hope pull together to form certainty and matching soulmate symbols. Calum’s other hand rolled back his sleeve and he watched her eyes flicker down on instinct; seeking out an affirmation.

They no longer needed to run in looping wonder. Late nights turned early mornings would not bring rising hopes with crushing falls. And yet, a static hesitation cut through the air, her eyes were still filled with doubt and it only took a moment for Calum to realize why. All his sharp words at the diner, all his admissions to the failure of forever and doubt of soulmates crackled between them in a tension filled moment. Calum shook his head in minute bursts, eyes drifting down to seek out infinity symbols that would match each swoop if their hands came together. He thought that maybe lifelines on their palms might run together as well if given the chance to be held.

“Even if forever is just a concept, it’s one worth trying for,” Calum finally said, voice drifting back to the early morning at the diner, regret painting the words he spoke in that moment.

She pulled her hand to her chest, restless fingers fidgeting with a charm on a delicate necklace that hung just past her collarbones. Once more her jacket was open even though the night had grown cold long ago. Once more Calum marked the differences that sat between them. Had he been in her position he wasn’t sure he’d give a second chance to a near stranger no matter the matching tattoo that stained their skin for what might be forever. She dropped her hand as a smile curved onto her face, eyes alight like two stars that could never burn out. Yet she was subtle, slow in reaching for his still exposed wrist, soft fingertip tracing over the swooping line that never ends.

“I guess you’re right. Even if we can’t be certain, what’s the harm in trying?” She asked, passing the conversation back to Calum; offering him one last out or one last chance at something he assumed he may never have again.

Calum nodded, just a small up and down of his head as he leaned toward her, capturing her hand and stalling the roaming finger from tracing an absolute. They’d stopped at the top of the Ferris wheel, an opportune moment presenting itself as stars above shone down on them. He swallowed thickly, heart racing and mind screaming memories better left behind in favor of making new ones. He shut them out, quieted them with a chaste look in her eyes and then let his eyelids fall closed, marginally closing the distance between them.

“Is it too cliche a concept to kiss you at the top of the ferris wheel?” He asked, still inching toward her, still hoping with eyes closed and heart hammering to her rhythm.

“Yes, but I think you should anyway.”

She closed the gap and Calum felt his heart flutter at the light press of her lips against his. There were no fireworks to light up the sky that night, but colors bursting behind closed eyelids and hearts audibly thudding in wondrous beats against rib cages was a worthy substitute. Calum’s hand that spoke promises of infinite time came up to settle on her cheek and she pressed closer, slowly deepening the kiss. She tasted sweet, like hot cocoa at three in the morning. Ever the contrast to himself. Pulling away left them breathless but Calum didn’t mind the slight ache in his lungs and the freefall in his chest. They stayed in a quiet and winded state as they made the descent down the ride, flickering gazes capturing each other’s in greedy glances. Calum was nearly certain he could stay on the ride endlessly so long as she was there too. So long as fate stained in his skin and she sat by his side.

Stepping off the Ferris wheel felt like drifting atop clouds, each step was light and airy; a sheer curtain of disbelief still drifting in the breeze between them. Calum could still feel his heart pounding in all pulse points, could hear the thud that created a beautifully erratic rhythm reverberating through his ribcage. His body and mind were in overdrive, two souls connecting and finding that their broken pieces fit each other perfectly. Calum knew it would take time, that the perfect portrait of forever wouldn’t come without the dedication it takes to create a masterpiece. Though his hand yearned to reach for hers he kept it by his side as they silently walked on, a destination of nowhere in particular in mind. All Calum knew was he wanted to walk with her. And so he did. He let her lead and followed her every step, nearly certain he’d follow her as long as forever may last.

They rounded a corner, passing by rides still in motion and Calum slowly reached for her hand, curious to see if his theory of infinity symbols overlapping and tracing the same paths was correct. Her hand reached out for his hand at the same time and fingers interlaced to the soundtrack of racing heartbeats and certainty crashing together to prove a hopeful theory correct. Calum couldn’t hold back the grin that captured his face, nor did he want to. But it faltered when she came into his line of sight; a past painted by faded hourglasses had stumbled along a winding loop of forever. She was with someone new. Calum stopped short and so did his newfound soulmate. She turned to him with concern etched across beautiful features. He only took one quick glance at his past before setting his sights back on his future. Mind, body and soul eased as she stepped closer to him and a once burning wrist merely tingled with a reminder of a new journey. He supposed that maybe some journeys were shorter than others. And he realized he was okay with that.

Calum turned to her, flashes of their first night bringing questions to the surface.

“I didn’t even get your name,” he repeated verbatim as she threw her head back in laughter.

Her name rolled off her tongue like music to his ears and certainty to his heart. He hoped with all of his heart and soul that on this new journey with her he’d end up finding forever.

***

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