Plot: When everyone is finding their soulmates, what if you miss yours?
Word count: 2064
“It froze!” Joohyun screamed, her tiny hands clutching her clock pendant tightly. 19 years, 4 months, 28 days, 13 hours, 4 minutes, and 58 seconds. You watched as your best friend looked around the cafe frantically, before meeting eyes with a cute boy, his own eyes rounded with shock. “Is that really you?” You almost laughed at her amazement at finally meeting her soulmate. You two were both late at encountering The One, but clearly she was faster than you. You nudged her towards him, and he sent her a bashful smile.
“I’m Kim Jaehwan, a university student who’s majoring in music and composition. And you?” You sat down, muting their conversation. You did not want to impede on their privacy any longer than necessary, and instead fiddled with the delicate silver chain that held your own clock. Now it was 19 years, 2 months, 16 days, 9 hours, 52 minutes, and 4 seconds since you were born, and your watch had yet to stop. Other friends had met their soulmates as early as birth, in the crib next to them at the hospital. You would wait patiently, you decide, and convinced yourself that it was ‘save the best for last’.
“____. Do you mind if we… uh… go out?” Joohyun interrupted your thoughts. You nodded, sending a sincere smile, before shooing them out of the cafe. You took out your sketch pad instead, and looked around. It was a quaint and quiet nook of the college town that you attended. You had promised to take Joohyun here when she visited during her break, as her university started winter break sooner than yours had, but here you are now alone. I guess I can take credit for their amazing love story when their wedding rolls around, you thought to yourself with a miserable smile. You flipped through the pages, studying your past sketches. You and Joohyun were both insistent on majoring in things you were truly passionate about; for you it was art and for her it was law. Your sketchpad was worn out and frayed, but it still contained content that you considered valuable.
You can’t remember how long you sat there, listening to the soft guitar and piano instrumentals from the overhead speakers, flinching periodically at a sudden clatter of plates and cups or scrape of a chair against the wooden floor. Instead you poured yourself into drawing the flower arrangement that decorated your table, fresh despite the frigid weather. Or at least, you had been, until a rough shove of your table knocked your hot tea onto the surface. You frantically scooped up your pencils and pad, but it was too late. A yellow stain was splattered across the top page, and your past works were mushy to the touch. You furrowed your brows, before glaring upwards. A pair of boys stood there, one with a hand over his mouth in surprise and the other stuttering at your gaze.
“I-I’m so sorry!” He stammered, before grasping at the napkin dispenser and dabbed frantically at your art. You snatched it away, gritting your teeth in anger. You pressed it downward, absorbing as much of the liquid as possible, while the boys wiped off the table top. When the mess was cleared up and damage control done, you stared at the ruined sketch pad. It was not as terrible as you had thought it would be, but it was not the perfect bundle of effort you had put in prior to the episode. You stood up, shoving your belongings into the bag. The two boys had their hands folded over one another, staring at the floor. They were clearly expecting an outburst, but instead you just shook your head.
“If you two need a table to sit at, then sit here.” You stalked away, shoving the heavy glass door open and stomping across the freshly fallen snow. It was too late to ask Joohyun to keep you company in your sour mood– she was probably hitting it off with Jaehwan. The faces of the two boys were forever etched in your mind. One had brown hair, while the one who had grabbed the napkins had natural hair. You shook your head. What was the point of being cute if you were a mess?
You dragged yourself into your dorm, plopping onto the bed. Joohyun’s bed was empty, her desk a mess of pencils and textbooks, while her clothes were strewn over the tiled floor. You picked up, folding them absentmindedly while you hummed some holiday festive tune. Perhaps you could go watch a movie by yourself, or you could take a nap to forget the incident. You sighed, before wrapping your fingers around the cold metal of the clock pendant, your eyes fluttering shut as you lay down on your mattress.
“____! Wake up!” Joohyun’s excited voice rang in your ears as you shot up from your bed. You winced at the harsh morning sunlight and stared sleepily as your best friend threw an outfit for you to wear. “Jaehwan is singing at the multi- university concert today with his friends and he asked if we wanted to come! I got us backstage passes for before the show and front row seats.” You nodded, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.
“What time is it?” You ask, before glancing at the clothes. White cropped sweatshirt and a denim skirt and stockings to cover up for the cold. You changed, listening to her blabber about the details of how perfect Jaehwan was. He had humor. He had the most adorable laugh. His voice was like an angel’s. The list went on and on, and you tried to not cover her mouth as you finished tying half of your hair up.
“- and I was wondering if you would find your soulmate and we could go on double dates.” Joohyun finished. You sighed at the sensitive topic. It was another day closer to 20 years of not knowing where he was. There were always rumors of soulmates never meeting. One would die in an accident. One would never fall in love. Someone would grow old without anyone at his or her side. It was tragic, and something you feared.
“I’m sure he’s out there somewhere.” You mumble, before checking your pendant. You froze, feeling tears well up. Joohyun immediately tensed, before running to your side.
“What’s– Oh crap!” It was frozen. 19 years, 2 months, 16 days, 10 hours, 37 minutes, and 56 seconds. You had seen your soulmate yesterday. “B- but who?” Your mind whirled. The two boys. It had to be one of them.
Secretly, you had wished it were the boy with darker hair. While you had undeniably been angrier at him, you were touched by his efforts to save your sketch pad. His manners softened the doubts you had about one of the two being your soulmate. The brown haired one was not a bad guy either from what you had seen; he had an adorable eyesmile that he made when he was flustered, and a Busan dialect that had started to leak as he would stammer words to his friend. Still, you leaned towards the former rather than the latter.
“What if I never see him again?” The words stuck to your throat. So close. So so so close. How could you have missed it? You normally checked after meeting any new guy. Sure, the pair had pissed you off, but you must have been stupid to not have thought about it. Hope flaired in the pit of your stomach. You would recognize the two anywhere, and you would figure out when their clock had stopped, and if it matched the time at which yours had.
“You will. Come on, let’s head to the performance hall and we’ll think up of ways to meet him again.” You allowed Joohyun to drag you across campus, wiping away stray tears from your eyes. By the time you arrived to the sound check and rehearsals, your eyes were tinged with pink, and Joohyun was handing you her handkerchief. The image of the boy burned in your mind.
“Do you want to see Jaehwan with me or?” You nod your head, before following her backstage. The halls were full of rooms where the performers were getting ready. Racks of clothes lined the walls, the scent of cosmetics heavy in the air. She knocked on a white door, and it opened to reveal Jaehwan’s smiling face, who rushed to embrace her. A cough strangled out of you before you could help it, and you turned away. Keep walking. Walk it out.
Your feet dragged heavily, dodging oncoming traffic as other performers rushed to finish their hair and styling. Once or twice you almost walked into props or pieces of a set for the stage. More than once people had thrown pitiful looks at your tears. You finally sat down on a chair outside of one of the rooms, not minding the rush of boys running in and out. Your eyes closed as you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall.
“Exactly 14 hours, 28 minutes, and 1 second ago, I met you.” A familiar voice startled you. It was soothing to hear, unique to the ear but comforting at the same time. You looked up. It was the boy with darker hair, the one who had spilled your tea. The one you had been waiting for.
“The one I’ve been waiting 21 years, 2 months, 7 days, 52 minutes and 11 seconds for.” He remarked, before offering a hand to you. You stood upright, mouth gaping but unable to utter a sound as you grasped his outreached hand. It was rough but warm, something like his neutral expression but his contrastingly teasing tone. He was wearing a white hoodie, with a ripped denim jacket and matching torn jeans and white shoes. It’s so similar to my outfit, you thought. He smiled at you, and a triangle of beauty marks on his cheek caught your attention. “It would be nice if you could talk to me too. I thought I was going to be single–”
You cut him off with a constricting hug, arms wrapped around his lean but sturdy frame. He tensed in surprise, before a hand reached up to stroke your dark hair. Tears framed your eyelashes once more as you hiccuped pathetically. He laughed at the sight, and it sounded like music to your ears. You loved the way he smelled like cotton, and how his hair was messy and fell perfectly around his face. You loved how tall he was, how his tongue poked out just a little when he laughed, and how willingly he made you drop your former grudge.
“You’re still a clumsy ass.” You mutter, and he rose an eyebrow at you. Wrong words to say. “I mean you still ruined my art and made me think I didn’t have a soulmate and I hate how cute you are now that I forgave you and I’m so glad I finally met you but I was so scared I didn’t know it was you until it was too late and–”
“You really need to breathe.” He remarked, before wrapping his arms around you. It was a warm embrace, something you had been waiting for all your life. He simply felt like home. “I never thought the first words I would ever hear from my future wife would be that I’m a clumsy ass. Colorful language. I assume my future is about to get a lot brighter.” You blush out of embarrassment, but mentally check off that it would be hard to win an argument with him. He simply had a way of making his words humorous and direct.
“Can I at least have your name before I can agree to be your wife? I think you’re proposing a little too fast there,” you counter. He grinned even wider at this, a warm glint in his eyes as he peered into your face. He was obviously admiring it, and you blush a deeper shade of red, much to his delight. He cleared his throat slightly.
“I’m Ong Seongwoo. I’m a student who majors in dance and theatre from one of the visiting colleges. I’m graduating this year and this is my last college performance. And I’m so glad you made it.”
Two weeks passed before he felt like he “came to” again.
Apparently, he’d showered, eaten and drank enough to keep himself alive, done
what necessary things needed to be done to live, but he honestly didn’t
remember doing them. He felt like he was moving through sludge.
Dilauded had been his escape early on during his time with
Bureau, but he’d quit years ago and hadn’t craved since. He thought about using
it when Emily had died, but he hadn’t craved
it since he got sober – until now. Everything fiber in his body wanted him to
contact his old dealer and see what he could do for him – give him anything to
stop the overwhelming pain he felt. The only reason he didn’t do it was because
Maeve wouldn’t have wanted him to, and despite having only seen her face for 4
minutes and 13 seconds, the idea of watching her face turn down in
disappointment at his return to drugs kept him from picking up the phone. Even
when he was using, he didn’t feel like this
much of an addict.
Then he’d taken a flight to help the team on one case. He
was going to go back. Of course he was. The BAU was and remained his home, but
he nearly didn’t.
That morning. That morning just three weeks after the love
of his life had died. Words. More words popped up on his arm. He didn’t see
what they were, but he saw what looked like ink. Without a second thought, he
stormed into the bathroom and grabbed a roll of gauze, angrily wrapping it
around his arm so that he would never have to see them. How dare the universe
tell him he had another soulmate waiting around the corner when Maeve was
barely in her grave for a month.
After using nearly the entire roll, he went back to his room
to get dressed, but as he pulled on the shirt, the sleeve got caught on the
enormous mountain of bandage. He tugged and teared at the shirt so much, it
tore, leaving him to rip the shirt off, ball it up and throw it into the corner
of the room.
He collapsed back onto his bed and sobbed. After three weeks
of numbness, he didn’t think he could cry anymore, but here he was, dissolved
into a pool of tears.
Weeks went by without him talking to anyone, interjecting in
cases only when asked. The long swaths of silence frightened the team. No one
was used to Reid being so quiet, but they also didn’t want to disrupt his
grieving process; everyone grieved in their own way and on their own time. Who
were they to judge how he went about healing himself?
But it still didn’t make them worry any less.
One day as they were about to get out of work, JJ decided to
approach him; she could never have expected the reaction she got. “Spence, can
I talk to you for a second?” All she wanted to do was assure him that he wasn’t
“Not if it’s about what I think,” he said, snapping his head
up from his desk. “I don’t want to hear how everything is going to be okay. I
don’t want to hear how someone else will come along. I don’t want pity from
someone who gets to go home to the person they love right now.” Spencer’s eyes
stung with thick tears, in sadness, guilt for snapping at JJ, jealousy that she
go to go home to Will when he’d never have the ability to go home to Maeve –
all of it made him want to crawl out of his skin.
More than anything, he wanted to throw a tantrum – kick,
scream and cry at the universe and how unfair it was, but instead, he’d snapped
at JJ, and his mouth just kept going. “You get to stare down at your arm every
night and see the words he first spoke to you. I don’t. I look down and there’s
nothing anymore. Because she’s dead. I just don’t want to hear any of it
With practiced fluidity, used to turning away from people
when he was overwhelmed, he spun on his heels, pulling on his coat and taking
strides toward the elevator. He watched as they closed, separating him from all
those people – the ones that had what he so desperately wanted.
As the months wore on, he never once had the desire to look
at the words hidden under his bandage. Once every few days, he would take the
bandage off to change it, doing everything he could to make sure he never saw
those words. It had been nearly a year since Maeve had passed, but for him,
there was still no one else. His showering routine had gotten to a point where
he no longer looked in the mirror and had perfected the art of wrapping his arm
without truly looking at it.
The snapping incident that had occurred with JJ didn’t
happen again – with anyone. Basically
everyone had assumed that they shouldn’t try and talk to him about romance of
any kind, so with the exception of having to step on eggshells in regards to
Spencer’s romantic life, his relationships with his friends went relatively
back to normal.
On rare occasion, he would go out with the team, but only if
they were just going out to eat. Bars weren’t happening. He’d never go out with
anyone alone though, because inevitably the conversation would turn to romance
and those godforsaken words. If he was honest with himself, he hated the
universe for the phenomenon now.
No. Solo outings didn’t happen anymore – which is why he
surprised himself when he agreed to go grab a bite to eat with Alex. He wasn’t
sure what it was about Blake. Maybe it was because he knew she cared, but she
As they sat down at a hole in the wall Indian restaurant in
a booth that barely held the two of them, the two found themselves slipping to
a comfortable silence. “I’m here, you know,” Alex said, still looking at her
menu. That was all she said; that’s what Spencer loved about her. “You wanna
split some vegetable samosas?”
“Sure,” he said without missing a beat. The sentiment hung
in the air; he knew what she meant by “I’m here.” It wasn’t a cry for
attention, like she felt he was ignoring her, but a subtle and soft reminder
that she was there and more than willing to listen if he wanted to get
something off his chest. Though they’d only known each other for about two
years, Blake knew him better than most, or at least in a different way.
The waitress came over the table and introduced herself as
Kala, taking their orders for drinks, appetizer and their meals and quickly
departed leaving them in silence once again. “Can I ask you something?” Spencer
wondered. Not his words – he still needed to steer clear of those, but hers
were another story.
He watched as a smirk ticked up the corners of her mouth,
but that was all she allowed her face to show. “Of course. What is it?”
For a moment, he tried to formulate what he actually wanted
to say. From the way she acted with him, to the locket she played with on cases
where kids were involved (specifically boys) to the one time they were rooming
together on a case and he’d heard her mutter ‘it’s okay Ethan,’ he’d assumed
for months that she was a mother, but she never spoke of a son, so Spencer had
guessed that Ethan, if that was his name, was no longer living – yet she and
her husband James remained steadfastly dedicated to each other. “Were the words
James spoke to you the first ones on your arm?”
“No,” she said, her voice in a far off place in the corner
of her mind. “I was with someone else before James, but he died. His name was
Michael.” She seemed to remember him fondly. “I loved him with my whole heart,
but one morning I woke up to see that he had passed away during the night.
Aneurysm. A ticking time bomb that took him away from me at the age of 25; he
was way too young.” The fond smile turned somber for a moment as she mourned the
loss of someone so young – someone she loved so much. “And before you ask, it
was about two weeks later that a knew set of words showed up on my arm, and for
a while…I hated them. Those words. Not only were they a cheesy pickup line, but
they sprouted up out of nowhere two weeks after the love of my life died. I
hated them, until I met him. Once I did, they took on a whole new feeling.”
While he wanted to know what that feeling was, he wasn’t
sure if he was ready to confront it yet, so he asked the next obvious question.
“What were his words to you?”
Blake snorted and pulled up her sleeve. On her arm, no lie,
were the words, “I don’t have a library card, but do you mind if I check you
“Noooooo,” he said, suppressing the urge to giggle
Blake just shrugged. “Oh yea. Go ahead and laugh because
it’s funny. But he said them so badly I found it endearing. My obvious reaction
was ‘what?’ so that’s what’s written on his arm.” She went on to tell him how a
few years after Michael’s death, around the anniversary actually, she found
herself frequenting her local library for some solitude. Over and over again,
she eyed a tall, built, slightly tanned man with a beautiful smile, but she
hadn’t had the guts to go talk to him, until one day he approached her and said
those words. “After I said what, James stumbled over his words so badly, I had
to reassure him that he hadn’t just blown it and we went to get dinner.”
It seemed like only a few minutes later that Kala came back
with their appetizer. While they ate, the conversation went toward linguistics,
specifically endangered languages and the work being done to preserve them.
Once the meals actually came they’d talked so much that their mouths were dry
and they were both beyond hungry, so nothing was said until they were at least
halfway done with their meals. “Can I ask you something else?” He didn’t even
look up from his plate, because although the words had slipped out of his
mouth, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the answer.
“You know you can ask me anything,” she replied, her eyes
soft as she took another bite of her food.
Spencer placed his knife and fork at the sides of his plate,
swallowing hard and composing himself for her answer. “When James said those
words, you said your feelings changed. How?”
“Well,” she started, picking up her fork as if she was
starting to get a little anxious and needed something to do with her hands, “As
I said, I hate those words. They popped up and I was pissed that the universe
wanted to put someone else in my path when the love of my life had just died.”
She’d lived his exact circumstances, just years earlier. “I hated those words
until the first time I saw James. There was something about him – the way he
looked at me, the way he smiled at me, just the small things – they were the
first romantic encounter I had after Michael and it made me start to wonder if
the words belonged to him. I found myself simultaneously hoping they did and
hoping they didn’t, and then when he said them, it was like a weight lifted off
my shoulders…I don’t know how else to describe it, which as a linguist, really
Spencer smiled softly, wondering if he’d ever feel that way.
He couldn’t imagine he would. More time had passed since Maeve’s death than
they had spent together, but he still missed her every day. The sweet sound of
her voice was still one of the last things he heard at night. “Look at the
words when you’re ready, Spencer,” she finally said.
He wasn’t sure how she knew that he even had a second set of
words, no less that he hadn’t looked at them yet, except that she was a
brilliant profiler and linguist. “How will I know?”
Everyone was born with a timer that would go off when you met your soulmate. Mine hadn’t gone off yet and I was getting a little impatient . There were only two days,10 hours 27 minutes, and 7 seconds left. My mother told me to act as if the timer was not there so that I wouldn’t mess things up; that’s exactly what I did.
I woke up, got ready, and left my apartment. I worked at a little quaint coffee shop around the corner. It was a cozy and unpopular; only regulars would come in, sometimes newbees but not that often. There was this boy, Jason, who came in so often that I had practically memorized his order.
“Hi Y/N” He came in with a smile on his face and greeted me. “Hey Jason, the usual?”, I asked as he nodded. He payed and went to wait at his regular seat. I made his coffee and called out his name to signify it was ready. He got up and took his coffee, gave me an nod, and left. The rest of the day went smoothly, making drinks for familiar faces that I had seen yesterday and the days before that.
Hey , guys. Here is the sad imagine that I promised. Hope you like it :)
Listen to while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwaZzlSbnCk
It has been 13 days , 2 hours , 4 minutes and 46 seconds since it happened. Since he died. Since he said goodbye.
I remember the last day we were together. We were alone at my house. We laughed and kissed non stop. You knew you were saying goodbye , but I didn’t. I remember our last words.
“Please don’t forget me” he said
“I’m sure I wont” I answered
“Bye, Love you”
“I love you much more”
And then he was gone , the last time I saw him.
I didn’t want to see anyone. I locked myself inside my room. Ignored everyone , laid in my bed and cried. I was starving but I didn’t have the power to stand up. I would rather die. I kept reading the letter you wrote to me and let your mom bring to me.
I hope you didn’t know I was saying goodbye. I couldn’t stay my heart was getting weak. I should have told you. But I didn’t want to , because I knew we never would have laughed so much if I had told to you. I promise we’ll see each other again. I will be waiting. But please let me wait, don’t come right away. I want you to cross the finish line. The finish line of life. I should let you move on, and hopefully you do y/n. I enjoyed every second with you. I will never forget you.Never. I loved you so much. Of all my heart , and I still do. And always will.
Why? Why did he wan’t me to move on? I do not wanna move on. I wanna see him and move on with him. I can’t cross the finish line. Not without you. Now it’s my time to say goodbye.
I think I’m almost at the finish line. Almost at the finish line of life. But he told me to let him wait. He won’t need to wait long. I know. After seconds,minutes,hours,days,weeks,months or years I will meet him. But I can’t wait. I need to say my goodbye.
There I was sitting on my bed. Crying. Again. But now I was holding the letter he wrote me and in the other hand. Pills. Many pills. So many they could kill me. That was the plan. To die. I swallowed the pills.
I don’t think this is good writing , but hoped you enjoyed and thanks for reading :*