01 | fire meets water

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PACIFIC HAD JUST finished a nine hour shift at the local charity shop and although she had appreciated Mrs Hubble's offer to take her to the mall for a coffee, her slender delicate fingers were still itching for her trusty piano.

Besides, she knew she was bound to bump into somebody from her sixth form there and she wasn't quite in the mood for socialising.

Steam clouded the cold train window besides her, engulfing it in a cyclone of misty haze as when softly laughed, brown that shone with a pure kindness.

Who was she kidding?

She hated seeing people like that. Pacific had always wondered how somebody was supposed to act when they saw someone they knew but didn't know.  It was a rather complicated phenomenon.

Pulling a pencil out from her worn brown handbag that used to be mothers, she brought the tip of it to a notepad and began to inscribe a poem. It had entered her mind earlier in the day when she had been ordering the second hand jumpers in the shop by size.

i could never forget the way
my eyes met yours,
between the rusty clothes rails
of the sweatshirts.

short and strong,
like all the best things life has to offer.
you looked at the green jumper and left.

left me dreaming,
and thinking,
that maybe in an alternate universe
i'd been that jumper you'd taken.

Tucking her short, feathery hair behind her ear, she glances upwards, an intuitive sixth sensing prodding at her ocre skin.

A rather angelic looking man was sitting opposite to her, scarily similar to the imaginary figure she had been picturing in her mind moments ago.

Curls of golden hair were adorned upon his head like a halo whilst his smooth skin, glowed with a warmth reminiscent of autumn. Sharp features that naturally held power and authority but were tame at the same time.

Hazel charismatic eyes brushed against hers yet within half a tick of a clock, Pacific had averted her gaze almost embarrassed at how drawn she was to him in such a short time frame. That wasn't normal, she thought.


She head turned to the side in curiosity and alight confusion. It was alarming that a stranger knew her name but there was such an immediately likability to the man that she didn't feel scared.

"Um, yes? How can I help you?" Her usual conscience told her that it would rude to say anything else.

"Hi, I'm Lorenzo." Confidently, he introduced himself, his linen white shirt shifting slightly as he leant forward. Everything about the way he acted said that he knew himself well. Almost too well.

"Sorry, I just wanted to check I had the right person. Otherwise things could have gotten embarrassing, am I right?" A contagious smile lit up his face like a sunrise. She almost blushed.

Well, he seemed like the person who certainly knew how to talk around a crowd.

Within seconds, his demeanour changed as he felt more comfortable around her. Lorenzo relaxed back into the seat as if he were an attractive statue in a museum, revelling up the adoration of others. Pacific found it odd how despite this, his vibe still seemed generous, eager to listen and communicate.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because I know the most out of all of us right now," he commented vainly without a hint of shame. "That's what I've been trying to tell everyone."

A litter flame of annoyance burst in Pacific at the lack of answer, negative thoughts spiralling within her mind. Although the South East Asian girl was incredibly kind, it took a split second for her to transform into the most pessimistic person around.

There was a good chance the handsome man in front of her was a stalker who has possibly broken into hospital records and stolen her file.

But files didn't have photos, did they?

She was getting off track.

"Aren't you worried that I could be a creep? You should be more careful around strangers," Lorenzo commented protectively with a smile, running a hand through his blonde hair that curled wildly.

"Exactly. I think that's my cue to move to another carriage. Nice meeting you."

Standing up, she began with walk away but froze but a hand held her back. A voice in her head critiqued her for being foolish enough to spend so long with somebody who had given her warning bells.

"Let go of me."

"Honey, I'm not holding on."

Pacific was a lover, not a fighter but she knew that once in a while you needed to give give somebody a punch if necessary. But when she turned around, she noticed that Lorenzo was right.

There was nothing but 3 metres of air between them.


Tugging at her hand again, a force remained pulling it backwards, almost as if a bracelet connected to an invisible long piece of string had been tied around her wrist. "What is this?"

Warm hazel eyes met her and the man cracked open a pearly white smile, somewhat reminiscent of the brave knight of a romantic novel that was at home in the bedside of Pacific's bedroom.

He lifted his taut right arm and shook his wrist, almost as if the other end of the strong was joined to him. "It automatically forms if one of us tries to leave without the intention of returning."

Sweeping her thin black hair out of her face, she took a deep breath trying not to freak out. A generous smile on his face, Lorenzo tapped his hand on the train seat that Pacific had been sitting on moments again.

"Just sit down and I'll explain what I know."

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