For Arthur, the notion of "soulmates" was stupid and childish. That is, until he met a boy at the pub named Emrys.
...
It was like deja vu, only it felt much harder to put a finger on-- when the gangly boy walked into the room and took a seat at the back as though he owned it, Arthur took a look up into the mirror behind the bar and looked back. They had made eye contact, holding it for several seconds before the black-haired boy scrunched his mouth in distaste and leaned his head back against the booth seat.
Arthur didn't believe in soulmates, but he did believe that certain people act as a sort of magnet, drawing people into their vicinity for reasons inexplicable. The look of familiarity when the blue eyes in the mirror indirectly met his was stirring, not sexually of course, but in the way of being off putting. He bought another drink, watching as the figure moved his head to the side and glancing at the door before making the seemingly-painstaking task of removing himself from the seat and out the door into the night air of London.
Arthur looked at his glass, eyeing the liquor in it before turning to watch the door. A figure walked in, slinking through the door like a serpent before taking a seat beside Arthur.
"You seem out of it, mate. What's up?" The man asked, ordering a drink of his own. "Look like you seen a ghost."
"Can I ask something crazy?" Arthur watched the mirror again, half expecting to see that face looking back at him.
"Any crazier than that whole bit about the, what was it again, the Reðasafn?" The man asked, badly masking a smirk.
"Have you ever felt like you met someone before? Not at a party or something, but you just catch a glimpse of someone and you can't help but think you know that person?" Arthur asked, looking at his drink in dismay.
After a few moments, he still found his friend staring at him with an odd look on his face.
"Some girl has gotten to you, innit? Planted some thought in ya head that you're soulmates or some shite like that? Don't tell me ye've fallen for that, Artie. Then I 'll 've lost all respect fer ya." The man chortled, continuing, "Let me guess, ya made some eye contact, ya? Then she waltzes out the room like a bloody fuckin' queen, right? It's psychology, Arthur. Prolonged eye contact makes ya think yer on an intimate level with someone. You don't even listen to Morrison, do ya?"
"This was different." Arthur insisted, but after thinking the better of it, decided to forget the whole mess. Forget the boy. Must've just been some socially awkward twat who can't keep his eyes off a specimen like Arthur when he sees one.
After that, Arthur didn't think about the boy again. Not until morning.
...
Arthur had gotten halfway to work on the tube Friday morning when he realized he forgot the keys to the office at home. He texted his cubicle neighbor and asked her to let him in once she arrived.
He was supposed to be one of the first ones in, but after alerting HR of the situation, the representative told him (in great disdain) to walk around until his cubemate arrived and to make up the half hour by staying late. He agreed without complaint, having an excuse to walk from the tube instead of sprinting all the way to work like he usually did.
The walk was a pleasant one, through a quaint shopping district outside central London, the trees casting soft shadows on the pavement below. Up ahead several paces, he saw a boy with black hair, ears protruding slightly from the side of his head, and a lithe frame. Arthur, knowing better than to sneak up on a stranger, walked faster and faster until he was only a few steps behind. He slowed his gait once he noticed the boy had in headphones. So that was why he didn't turn around, Arthur realized.
Arthur reached out his hand and tapped the boy's shoulder. He whipped around and looked as though he was half-shocked into cardiac arrest. Arthur tried his best to smile in a sly manner but it seemed, (pardon the pun) at face value, to just be mild irritation.
"You're from yesterday," Arthur commented, ever the smooth talker.
"Yes," the boy seemed annoyed. "Ya done?"
"You shouldn't keep headphones in like that so loud, it's dangerous."
"Thanks, Mum, bye." The boy stepped faster, blue flannel shirt flapping in the breeze.
"What's your name?" Arthur asked, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Why?" The boy squinted, crossing his arms, displaying every telltale sign of suspicion.
"Because I feel like I know you... Somehow." Arthur admitted, albeit dumbly, without much thought given to what he was saying.
"Emrys... My name is Emrys." The boy whispered.
"And I'm Arthur, see? Now we know each other." He grinned.
"I believe this is the worst set of pick-up lines I've ever been on the receiving end of." Emrys laughed, shaking the hand off his shoulder and walking again.
"I'll see you again, Emrys. I'm sure of it."
Emrys waved once over his shoulder, putting his headphones back in. " 'I'll see you again,' " Emrys mocked quietly to himself. " 'I'm sure of it.' Madness..."
Arthur smiled, a swell of pride rising in his chest. He knew, deep down, he was right. He had to be. The coincidence was too coincidental. That or his stalker was coy and obvious.
Arthur strolled the rest of the way to the office with leisure, taking time to treat himself to a smoothie before going into work.
...
Arthur's cubemate let him in, quiet as usual, a reserved smile on her face. She always seemed as though she knew more than she let on, quietly plotting something. Often when he would overhear her on her calls with clients, he would doodle images of her as a cat toying with a mouse. Frankly, he had way too much time on his hands.
This slow-paced job of his seemed to drag along, he did write-ups of all the notes taken by each department gave him and made them into readable documents in the online database. After 3 years of this monotonous boredom, he was able to do the work with half of the attention he used to devote to the tasks. He turned his head to the side, noticing his cubemate sighing after a particularly lengthy call.
"Hey, Zelda. You okay?" Arthur asked, scooting his chair back to make eye contact with her. "That call went on for an hour."
"You would think that after 3 months of warning of them that they were falling out of compliance, that they would either fix it or complain to somebody who actually matters instead of me." She sighed, looking back at him. "You never talk to me, just work or sit there in silence. What do you want?"
"Do you ever feel like you've met someone before, even though you know you're strangers?" Arthur asked.
"Strange question," Zelda paused, pulling her blonde hair up in a ponytail. "But sure. I met my best friend for the first time at a frat party that I crashed. He tripped me on his way to the bathroom, made some half-wasted joke about a meeting with a toilet and it made me laugh. It was like I'd known him forever. We go out to a karaoke bar every Saturday night and don't talk much, but it feels easy you know? Effortless. Is that what you mean?"
"Sort of." Arthur leaned closer, "I know we aren't exactly friends but, can I talk to you about it?"
She tilted her head and nodded, "Sure. It gets boring in the cube with no one to talk to. Tell me, Arthur."
Then, for a fraction of a second, he thought he'd felt it with her too. A sense of familiarity. He chalked it up to how much she reminded him of himself once she started talking; the reserved emotions, the stubbornness, the confidence, and the sense of reluctant acceptance of each other as friends. Regardless, he felt that he could trust her, he felt a pull to her like he once had to Finn-- a gut feeling that this would make for a good friendship.
"So, in short, I was at the pub waiting for my friend Finley and this boy walks in and-"
"Does this boy happen to have a face, or you know, any features that would distinguish him from a lamp post?" Zelda quipped, causing Arthur to laugh.
"Right, sorry. He, uh, had black hair, blue eyes, kind of a tall gent, lanky and had these ears that stuck off the side of his head. So, anyway, he walks in and just sits down at this booth, it didn't even look like he bothered to make sure anyone was there before he sat down. Then he looked up and made eye contact in the mirror above the bar, it was weird... how can I describe it? You know when it's bright and the light is reflecting off a street sign and makes it impossible to read so you have to squint at it until the lines make sense? It was almost like that. Like I knew him, somehow, but couldn't place it exactly. We stared at each other like that for a few seconds, then he just got up and left."
Zelda's eyes got a glisten in them. A look distinctly similar to when she was the only one to recognize the boss was having an affair with one of the accountants.
Arthur suddenly felt deeply unsettled at the realization. Her expression faded in intensity once she spoke up.
"He knows you." She grinned, sure of herself. "You don't just hold eye contact like that with a stranger."
"Finn said he thinks he might've been trying to pick me up, like making eye contact to give the illusion of familiarity or something. Although he assumed I was talking about a girl."
"That's possible, but highly unlikely. Plus he left right before your friend arrived-- that's odd, right?"
Arthur shrugged, putting his face in his hands with a sigh, "Maybe I'm reading too much into this. For all I know he forgot his glasses at home and couldn't see anything, so he just left, or something."
"Maybe." Zelda shrugged as well, becoming silent as she returned to her work.
Arthur could hear the skepticism in her voice, but went back to his own work to get his mind off of it. He didn't even think to mention that he'd seen him again that very morning.