Half-lidded green eyes that seem to glow fluorescent.
George steps off his ride and thanks the driver, smiling and nodding as he rubs a sweaty palm subtly against the fabric of his black pants. He slams the car door shut and steps back as the driver speeds away.
Purposeful fingers that rest gently against heated skin.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks the location again, squinting at the shop names around him to figure out his surroundings. Eventually, he comes to a decision and steps forward onto the street. The little bag in his other hand sways with his movement.
A caress that crosses a half-open mouth, a light pinch on the lower lip that tugs a pout out of shape.
George stuffs his phone and hand into his jacket pocket as the seeping cold air chills the temperature of his exposed skin. He'll turn right up ahead and get to where he wants to be, should all things proceed as they should. He adjusts the mask on his face and the hoodie covering his hair.
Slow ceasing of any motion that laces the air with anticipation, and then the tender beckoning tipping forward to press-
George's step stutters, and he comes to a complete stop after recovering his initial slip. The bag in his hand sways forwards and back, protesting the sudden pause to his movement. His heart is racing him down the street, and the layers of clothes reach peak stuffiness. Another moment and he might completely overheat and combust.
Lips that fit too well against the mold of another, opening and closing in a steady rhythm of heartbeats.
"Stop," George whispers to himself, "Stop stop stop stop stop."
Imagery threatens to overspill and George desperately turns his attention to anything but the titillating course his mind leaps through. He stares at the cracks in the pavement, the uneven tiles that don't quite match, the off-color splotches that decorate the city street. Maybe the depressive greys on the floor can move his mind to more serious business, away from the vivid daydreams of his own conjuring.
I'll be thinking about kissing you, George's own words bounce torturously into remembrance and he has to physically restrain himself from slamming his head into a traffic light.
Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.
George pulls out his phone and checks the time. It's 2:00 p.m. sharp, any later and he'll be late for the meeting. He closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, but snaps them open as the first outlines of more fantasies threaten to progress into clarity. His breath is snuffed along with his effort to relax.
Pavement, pavement, pavement, door, door, door, door, handle, handle, handle, George repeatedly chants as his vision sweeps across the objects in front of him, Bell, bell, bell, bell, coffee, coffee, coffee.
The paired sensations of the shop help to push back the bursting imagination of George's mind and overwhelm him with a new sort of feeling. It has been forever since he visited a coffee shop, and though he had been aware of the location prior, the warmth inside and the sharpened scent of coffee with a hint of vanilla still hits him in a perfume of richness.
Wooden planks cover the walls and give the whole place a homely feel, and chairs are arranged in threes and fours around wooden tables a shade darker than the material composing the walls. Hanging light bulbs glow in muted orange and compete with the natural lighting outside to provide the place its wash of colors and visibility. Behind the counter, a few workers dance between the machinery filling cups with an assortment of bitter brown liquid. A deciding customer stands in front of the cashier, gesturing at the elevated menu sign as the worker takes his order.
George skims the contents of the board quickly, noting categories from lattes to iced coffee and teas before moving to survey the customers sitting in the shop. He's looking for one person specifically. "Red jacket and ponytail" was the description he had received, and though he's heard red described as a bright and easily noticeable color, his colorblindness makes it difficult to distinguish from the overall orange tones of the shop.
To spare himself the awkwardness of standing in front of the door and blocking incoming customers, all the while looking around cluelessly like an idiot, George shuffles to an empty table and sets his gift bag on top, lowering the hood of his jacket as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Better to camouflage himself with the rest of the customers first, and he can sort out the business after.
He types out a text.
George
at the shop, can't find her
A moment later, he receives a reply.
Dream
call her. or text her or something. why are you texting me.
George
i already sat down, it'd look weird if i texted her and then moved to another table
i'd look dumb and clueless
Dream
you would not. don't worry about it.
just text her and tell her you arrived, and ask her where she is
don't overthink
you got this
George
whatever. you're no help.
But despite what he types, a calmness settles in him along with the warmth of the shop, and he follows through with the instructions. Dream is right, he's just doing a normal thing, it's not that weird. All will be fine. The warmth of the shop catches up to him as he thinks, and George shrugs off his outer layer of the jacket to hang on the back of his chair.
When he sets his attention back to the texts, he all of a sudden forgets everything he had set out to do.
Why was he here again?
His eyes focus on the gray icon centered on the top of his screen.
Dream, he reads out in a strange moment of unintelligibility.
A definite mistake, as flashes of eyes and lips and hands accompany each blink and paint themselves back to the forefront of George's mind. He grows tense, freezing up in a moment of confusion, unable to tear his eyes away from the name displayed on his dimming phone screen. Even the smell of coffee does nothing to wake him up.
"You're so pretty," whispered compliments that fall to ears reddening with embarrassment, "So h-"
"-ey, are you George?" a voice interrupts his thoughts and cuts through the unsubtle blush spreading across George's startled face as he looks up from a blank phone screen.
The person who (thankfully) interrupted his afternoon-delusion session is a woman who looks around his age, coffee in one hand and a backpack held in the other. Her mask hangs on one ear, a fierce breeze away from being blown off. Her jacket could very well be red, and a ponytail falls just barely below her shoulders. Blue eyes look curiously down at her subject, who takes a moment to register the situation.
"Julia," George stands hurriedly as the chair scrapes against the concrete floor, "I'm George, yes, nice to meet you."
"Oh wonderful," Julia smiles as she pulls out the seat across and sits down, setting her coffee on the desk and backpack on the ground, "Nice to meet you as well."
George sits with her, returning the smile as best he can with the obstruction of the face mask, "I hope you weren't waiting too long."
"Not at all," Julia waves a dismissive hand, "I usually spend my afternoons here anyway, so I was just finishing work before you came."
"Ah, good to hear," George replies, and tries to appear as natural as possible as he sets his phone down and thinks of something to say.
Thank goodness the mask hides most of the areas a blush could cover on his face, and his phone screen was dark by the time Julia found him. Not so good is the fact that Julia probably watched him enter, perform a lackluster examination of the room, and proceed to be antisocial in the first table he finds himself walking to.
Probably not the best first impression he could have made in front of his soulmate.
After finishing his call with Dream a few days ago, George finally made the effort to reset his password for the soulmark website and gain access to his soulmate's information. A very basic skim of her profile provided her name, age, and phone number. Enough for George to reach her and have a basic introduction, but not enough to compromise security.
Julia, one year older than George and quite the friendly texter, had arranged their meeting spot at her favorite coffee shop. George had no objections, seeing as he didn't go outside enough to know what could be an appropriate meeting place, and thinking it was about time he went into another coffee shop. They exchanged not much information afterward, mutually agreeing to simply talk it all through in person.
From what George can skim of her personality so far, she seems to match what her texting style says about her. She's bolder than George, definitely, and more put-together and adult than he can ever imagine. That's without losing an air of friendliness and liveliness that expresses itself through clear, blue eyes glinting with a subtle sheen of mischief.
It's difficult to imagine how their lives could ever fit together, this professional and affable woman who frequents coffee shops and George, who's probably slouching and doesn't go outside for weeks at a time.
"Sorry about making you come find me," George starts as Julia straightens her posture from adjusting a toppled backpack, "I was looking for a red jacket but I happen to be colorblind and didn't want to intrude on a stranger's alone time."
"No worries!" Julia exclaims with an easy wave of her hand, "That actually makes some more sense, because I have a quick question I hope won't make you too uncomfortable."
George nods his assent, "No, please. Ask away."
"Are you GeorgeNotFound?"
It's jarring to hear his online identity pronounced so publicly in a coffee shop, by his supposed soulmate no less. It had not occurred to George that she might know of him through his online content, and reality strikes him in an unsuspected blow.
Bye-bye to whatever sort of first impression he could ever try to make.
"Um, yes," George admits a little stiffly, though trying to maintain his politeness and smile so as to not appear rude, "I am. Do you... watch my content?"
Now it was Julia's turn to hesitate, as her blue eyes shift momentarily to the side with a quick tilt of her head, and her smile turns into something that says more than George can decipher in the moment.
She doesn't let the hesitation last too long, turning her attention back to George with a quick shake of her head, "I don't, but someone close to me is a huge fan of yours."
"Oh," George replies, not quite sure what to make of her answer and the strange moment of hesitation, "Well, I'm honored."
Julia smiles in response, before picking up a new topic, "Do you want to get some coffee before we start talking? I come here a lot so I'd be happy to help you with your order."
"That'd be great," George relaxes visibly at the change of topic, "Do you know if there's anything without caffeine in it? My sleep schedule hasn't been the greatest and as much as I'd like to try coffee in a coffee shop..."
Julia seems quick to pick up the message, "Oh! Definitely. They have good selections of drinks other than coffee. Any of their hot chocolates are good, and almost all of the teas that aren't green tea don't have any caffeine."
George smiles graciously, and pulls back his seat to stand up, "Great! Thank you, I'll be right back."
Ordering isn't that difficult, George chooses a peppermint hot chocolate that seems especially festive and pays quickly before returning to his table with a receipt that tags him as customer #43. George silently memorizes the number before folding and tucking the piece of paper into a pant pocket.
"Which one did you order?" Julia asks as she sets her phone down and looks back up at George, who slides back into his seat.
"Peppermint hot chocolate," George answers, "Sounded really good."
Something of an impressed look crosses her face, "That's their best hot chocolate, you have good taste."
The compliment is welcome, and George receives it with a little satisfaction, "Thank you! You seem well-versed in the menu selections, have you tried all their drinks?"
Julia quickly scans the menu angled away from her and shrugs, "Not sure, but I would say I've tried most of them."
"You must really like this place," George remarks, doing his best to keep the atmosphere at an even, neutral setting.
Julia smiles fondly at something George is sure he's missing the backstory for, "I guess so."
George nods his acknowledgments, and the conversation brakes to a gentle stop.
Is this a good time to start talking? Do I bring up soulmarks? More small-talk? George calibrates in his brain as he fidgets with his fingers resting against his lap. For a moment, his wrist is exposed to the warm air of the shop, before George quickly tugs his sweatshirt sleeves over the area. He doesn't know why he does it, seeing as his soulmate is literally sitting right in front of him.
Before the silence can draw out to be awkward, a waitress sets a tray down on their table and removes a glass mug in George's direction. Liquid chocolate shifts easily with the movement, tilting the whipped cream on top dangerously as it settles in front of George. Red and green sprinkles rest on top of the cream in a final decorative twist.
"Peppermint hot chocolate," she recites, and departs with a quick confirmatory nod.
George thanks her before looking at the drink and realizing a sudden predicament. The shop is generous with their whipped-cream serving, and the swirly white top covers the entirety of the drink underneath. If he eats it from the peak of the cream, he'll probably appear juvenile and non-serious. If he tries to drink from the side, most likely the cream will fall onto his face and make him look even more ridiculous. If he waits, it'll seem like he doesn't want to drink from the shop Julia likes so much.
His indecision must fall apparent to Julia, who gestures with her hand at the waitress who is wiping the next table down, "Lisa, hold on. Could you get him a spoon please?"
Not ten seconds later, a small silver spoon appears next to his drink amidst a flurry of apologies, to George's immediate assurance that it was not a big deal at all. He takes the shaped metal and dips it into the drink, sinking a bit of the cream to expose the aroma of chocolate resting just underneath. Steam rises from the exposed portion of the drink, and George pulls down his mask to blow it gently to cool.
Julia takes a sip of her drink, which smells a lot more like actual coffee than George's dessert-y hot chocolate, and they both know it's time they get to the actual conversation of the day.
"Do you mind showing me your mark?" Julia begins as she warms her hands on the side of her paper cup, "If it's not in a convenient place or you don't feel comfortable that's fine."
"Sure," George agrees as he lets the spoon sink to the bottom of his cup with a little clink, "It's just on my wrist, so..."
He pulls back the sleeve of his sweatshirt and holds out his arm, somewhat not used to just blatantly showing off his soulmark in public. Julia leans in closer to scrutinize and does a double-take, frowning as she stares.
She whispers something under her breath that George can't quite make out beneath the ambiance of the shop, her gaze still laser-focused on the patch of skin that rests George's soulmark.
Her usual considerateness seems to be momentarily dropped as thirty seconds pass and still George hasn't received any sort of sign to retract his arm. When he starts shaking a little from the muscle fatigue, Julia seems to finally snap back to reality and leans back, to which George lets his sore arm fall as well. He tugs his sleeve back over the spot and returns his arm to its original resting place.
"I'm so sorry about that," Julia says as she makes a face of embarrassment, "I didn't mean to keep your arm out that long, it's just..."
George shakes his head to indicate all is well, though his right-hand massages his upper arm with a small grimace, "What?"
"It'll be easier to explain if I just show you my mark," Julia says as she pulls an arm from her jacket sleeve, "Mine's somewhere on the tricep or bicep area, around here."
Julia turns her right side to George and points to a spot. George stares and sinks into a silence.
It's his mark alright, but it's so, so, faint.
If he hadn't been familiar with his mark from looking at it so much, George would probably need a magnifying glass to actually look at the details. From what he can tell, the colors are barely hanging there, like a piece of laundry having had too many rotations in the washing machine, and the outline looks like someone tried erasing a mistake.
Julia is watching him intently, and George grips the handle of his drink to take a quick sip, careful not to accidentally smudge a bit of whipped cream against his nose. He barely tastes the bittersweet chocolate, but the warmth glides nicely down his throat and settles in his stomach. The moment's break will help him think.
"I'm sorry if this comes as a shock to you," Julia sounds genuinely apologetic, most likely not quite sure what to make of George's reaction, "I was hoping... Well, not hoping, per se. More... expecting yours to also have this same sort of bond disruption, but it looks perfectly normal. The doctors all said it was something to do with unstable bonds and that yours would be experiencing the same sort of fading mine is, but that doesn't seem to be the case. That's why, earlier, I was surprised."
George sets his drink down gently, "It's true that our bond has been destabilized but that's not from either of us doing anything. It's actually something more... complicated than that."
"Oh," the syllable sound conveys Julia's subtle surprise, "You know what's happening?"
"I found out just a week ago, I promise," George quickly explains, "I wouldn't have left you hanging this whole time if I knew."
"Oh, I didn't think you were purposefully avoiding me," Julia contemplates, "I think... I thought I knew what was happening this whole time."
"Tell me about it," George empathizes, "I thought I knew what was happening until it turns out I was completely clueless."
Julia makes a conspiratorial face even as her worries seem to dim her mood slightly, "You have a story to tell, don't you?"
George chuckles bashfully, "Something like that. But before I tell it to you, do you mind if we quickly sort through what to do with our disrupted soulmate status?"
If Julia makes a face of offense, George quickly cuts through it to add, "It's mainly because this story leads to a conclusion that is... hm... not the best in terms of the chances of us actually going anywhere."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Julia probes a little further and George holds his breath, praying nothing will go wrong in the following segment of what's to come.
Surprisingly, Julia doesn't seem all that horrified or disbelieving as he had braced himself for, and though he is far from good at observing other people's feelings, she seems overall very emotionally stable. In fact, throughout their entire encounter, George couldn't detect a spark of romance or chemistry between them, and he's pretty sure it's a mutual effort from both parties that such an environment has been cultivated. It seems Julia might be more on board with his ideas than he had initially expected.
George decides it's easier and less painful to rip a band-aid off than to slowly ease it from unwilling skin.
"I like someone else right now," he confesses, eyes darting momentarily to look at the whipped cream which has been slowly sinking into the hot chocolate and marbling the drink with swirls of white, "I like him a lot. And... I really want to end up with him."
I would also like to kiss him, a thought slips through before George can stop it, and this time there's no mask to hide the blush. He thinks it'd be a great time to perish in the middle of the coffee shop. If only there was a way to evict thoughts from his head.
"Oh. Oh, wow. Oh okay, wow," whatever concern had built on Julia's face completely melts away into something that looks a little too cheery and excited given the circumstances, and there's almost a hint of amusement as she takes in George's reaction, "This is actually perfect."
George thinks he might be hearing things, "What?"
Julia grins even wider as her eyes practically sparkle, "It's absolutely perfect because I'm actually already married to my favorite person ever."
---
Kang's Note: soulmate reveal! and soulmate's marriage reveal!
hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe i'm so excited for future chapters hehehehehehehehhehe
thank you so much for reading! it's chapter 49 and i can't believe you're still here. you're the actual best and i am actually exploding with the affection i have for you all. in return, i may or may not offer you some actual dnf ;D but not immediately. you know me. gotta drag it out a little longer because i can't stop procrastinating even in writing. but soon. okay have a great, wonderful, amazing day i will see you next time! *hugs*