{Soulmate AU: You somehow find a diary/journal of your old self and read through the contents of life with your soulmate, centuries ago}.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flicking through the sheets of a battered old book, some hundred year's wear at least, you saw oddly familiar writing imprinted on its decaying pages. The cover was bland and uninteresting, but that somehow caused a sense of mystery and intrigue to accumulate inside you. Your very being shuddered in anticipation at what you might find. A feeling of déjà vu surrounded your body, burrowing its way into your heart.
The journal felt light in your hands, as if all the years it depicted were nothing more than fantasy – a discoloured feather that you imagined holding secrets and anecdotes about centuries old soulmates.
It detailed events and moments in a life not too dissimilar from yours. The young narrator with striking resemblance to yourself, had filled the yellowed pages with points of importance in her life. It began as a tribute to her fated partner, the black ink carefully following the lines on each page, occasionally jutting up, seemingly out of excitement. As your hand wandered further, towards the last few pages, you noted splotches of ink dotted randomly, and your heart ached as you painted a tragic picture in your mind – a young girl, not yet beyond twenty-five, drenching the attentive letters with her tears.
The entries contorted more as time elapsed, twisting her gentle writing into despondent, vastly melancholic inscriptions. You traced the latter epitaphs, benevolently grazing your fingers over the script, envisioning the heartbreak and absolute anguish of this young woman.
He was on patrol again yesturday. Except, this time it was dangerous. So very dangerous. He shouldn't have gone – I should have stopped him. What was I thinking? I had hoped that he would be safe. That he would return to my arms this evening. He hasn't come back.
That was the first of many sorrowful impressions. There were pages and pages of tear-stained texts, various sentences having been crossed out weakly, as if she was quivering uncontrollably, stopping her from putting pen to paper.
How ridiculous I must have seemed. He was the best hero this world had ever seen. I still remember the day we first met. He was such a nervous boy; he started sweating as soon as our eyes met. I knew instantly that he was the one. He often talked of becoming a great hero, but never of surpassing his friends. That was just one of the things I loved about him.
I remember when he asked me to date him – he was shaking slightly, and said afterwards that he expected rejection. I told him how much he meant to me. He blushed shyly, crimson adorning his soft cheeks, dusting them like sugar over the cupcakes we used to make...
I didn't even get to say goodbye.
[Word Count: 460]