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One-Shot Stories: Post or Nah?
Okay, so I write short stories on Wattpad and they are all one-shots in different Soulmate Alternate Universes... all around 5k-10k words and I’m contemplating whether I should post them here on Tumblr or not...
...and people on Wattpad (as well as my friends who had read them) are all angry at me when I post because I apparently destroy their hearts... so should I? let me know...
#Soulmate AU#AU#Alternate Universe#Original Characters#but based on#fandoms#i swear#youll know who they are#HAHAHHAHAHA#Wattpad#the stories are as diverse as i can#im still researching on the diversity of belief#because im not really acquainted with religion at all#so ill try that too#personal#mostly it is colour sexuality and cultural diversity#IAmAdlocked Stories
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[soulmate au] Everything is Grey
The world is black and white until one meets the other half. FRIENDSHIP, FLUFF, TRAGEDY By CA Hawkins WORD COUNT: 5701
AN: Here it is, an original story by moi. Idea came from Tumblr tho.
I’ve always found it so amusing when the coloured-eyed describe colours to the greyed-eyed. You meet and go with people who complain and look around for clothes to match their shoes, their eyes, their shirt... and you understand why: because they can see colours—because they’ve met their soulmates.
I had always envied them.
Not everyone has met their soulmates but had still ended up with the people they love. Some met their soulmates with their best friends. Some romantic soulmate relationships end due to the fact that they are destined to be together platonically.
The universe may say who your soulmate is—but you can never be sure what your fate together will be.
Speaking of fate, I have four best friends whom I love with all my heart. I don’t think they’ve met their soulmates yet either.
Two girls and two boys.
We all met about six years ago when we were all chosen from our university for some government research I cannot talk about in public... but even though we had finished the research after two quick months (much to the surprise of our superiors), the five of us had kept in touch and we had always spent some time together—mostly drinking in a pub.
Eventually, we all moved to the same city since we all love it here—in London. None of us have close relatives anyway and so we consider ourselves as a family.
Lawrence is a quiet kind of bloke, but he always keeps everyone smiling. He drives us everywhere and he seems to know every pub in the city—which is great! He is a bit shy with the ladies, though. I don’t know why he’s so insecure... He’s the most knowledgeable one in the group and he’s also incredibly sweet.
Sweeney is a rather sarcastic snob and a bit of an arsehole (maybe not a bit) but we keep him in our little family—only because he is extremely loyal and he will, apparently, die in our name. Of course, we also love him... unfortunately.
Felicity is loud. She loves cracking jokes and she loves playing guitar. She’s a heavy drinker but never gets a hangover—flirty but has great integrity—rather brilliant in her own explicable way, and a bit self-centred at times, but would also sit beside you all night if you need it.
Scarlett, my best friend, isn’t very talkative. She most likely has a lot of secrets and is definitely the most mysterious of us all. Oh she’s the most brilliant person I had ever met, and I don’t think there’s anything she can’t do... Oh, wait, she was a bloody horrible flatmate (but she moved in with Lawrence four years ago because his flat is closer to her work than mine)... and a bit of a lazy git at times, but that’s her in a nutshell.
Still, despite their differences, I’m glad that they were all rather happy for me when I told them that I can finally see colours.
They ask me what it was like, and how it feels like.
“Well... it’s hard to explain,” I answer. Ironically, that’s the answer I hated the most when I asked colleagues before, back when I was greyed-eyed. Well, it is hard to describe.
“How did it happen?” Lawrence asks, interrupting. He always knows what’s the right thing to say or ask. That’s why he’s our group’s leader so to speak.
I tell them the day I first met my boyfriend.
The first colour I saw was his beautiful brown eyes. I knew then what my favourite colour is: Brown... like the colour of chocolate (I’m still giddy that I can finally understand people when they associate colour with descriptions).
I tell them that Scarlett and I were heading to the pub—just the two of us to hang out—and we decided to go through the park for a shortcut. When I got distracted by a really good violinist who was performing in the middle of the park, Scarlett decided to be a bitch and ditched me... again.
I decided to ask the man nearest to me if he had seen a woman wearing a scarf. When he turned around and looked at me, that’s when the colours exploded in front of me.
I bet we both looked liked two idiot boys, standing in the middle of the park, mouths agape, looking at the world for the first time. Well, to be honest, we kind of did look at the world for the first time—in colour.
“So, this is what the sky looks like,” he whispered to himself, looking up at the blue colour of the sky everyone talked about.
“And this is what green looks like,” I whispered back, looking down at the grass, or is it green? There are so many colours.
I tell my friends that I almost cried that day—that i was so overwhelmed with the plethora of colours and the emotion that I’m seeing the world for the first time. I thought I was going to hyperventilate with happiness.
“God, this is so beautiful,” I whispered to the stranger.
“Howard Ainsley.” He smiled at me, offering his hand.
“Winter Elingston,” I replied, breathing out.
I was talking to my soulmate, for goodness’ sake! I never knew this would happen in such a boring frustrated day. To think that I was merely going to ask a stranger for directions, then boom fucking colours everywhere.
I will never forget that look of surprise on his face.
“Nice to finally meet you,” he told me with a sweet foolish grin.
“Likewise,” I replied, smiling sweetly.
The universe... the colours are so... beautiful...
“You’re lucky,” Felicity comments after the silence when i’m done telling them the story.
“I know,” I reply honestly.
I look around the pub—the flashing lights on the dance floor that used to be only bright lights—the number of glasses on the shelves in different shades of the window—the plethora of different shirts in different colours... I might never get used to seeing them...
The world is beautiful—fucked up, of course, but still beautiful.
O N E Y E A R L A T E R
I’ve been with Howard for a long long time and I had been asked on what my favourite colour is. For a long time, I’ve always wanted to be asked about this. now, I can never stop feeling the happiness of the realisation that I am so used to this question.
To the colour-eyed, this question becomes a part of their normalcy and it can be easy to forget that not all people are coloured-eyed.
That is my mistake.
“What’s your favourite colour?” I accidentally ask Scarlett, who is spending a week in my flat because I insisted her to.
As much as I love Howard visiting me in my lonely flat, I still miss my best friend making her own mess everywhere. It’s boring not to clean up blood (borrowed from the hospital) on the floor and other internal organs cluttered around the kitchen (borrowed from somewhere Scarlett won’t tell me about).
My thoughts about my best friend dissipate at the glare she is giving me. Realising what I had just asked, I shrink in embarrassment.
“Oh God, sorry,” I say, blushing.
“It’s quite alright,” she says in her usual cool tone, but I notice a slight edge in it. “You’re already coloured-eyed. It’s your version of normal, of course. Alas, for me, still, everything is grey,” Scarlett continues, gesturing around in a theatrical manner, “and it probably will for a long long time—forever even.” She shrugs.
Pity. It’s a shame she can’t exactly see how beautifully blue her eyes are. Before, I’ve always thought they were so pale—almost white... but no, they’re startlingly blue. As for me, I just found out I’ve always had dark sea-green eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter again.
“Elingston, stop apologising,” she says sternly. I chuckle to myself because she always loves calling us by our first names—something about not being too close to us, but obviously failing.
In our group of scientists (whom I know consider as family), Scarlett is the most analytically creative between the five of us. Sure, I may be the one who always questions everything; Sweeney may be the one who conjures up the suggestions; Felicity may be the one who never gives up; and Lawrence may be the one who always finds the answer...
...but Scarlett is all of us rolled into one, but instead of everything being a matter of hopeful possibility, it becomes a matter of definite probability—and that’s one of the reason why she’s my best and most trusted friend...
...and inside that façade of hers, I know she is also the most emotional and caring person in the planet—which is probably why she hides her emotions well—too well... No one knows her like we do. The four of us can see through all those clever lies. She’s the most human of us all—probably a side-effect of being nearly all-knowing...
...since emotion and humanity are a part of that brain of hers... but she never shows it. Still, we all assume she’s both aromantic and asexual. Come to think of it, she never says anything about herself much.
I wonder what else she hides in that metaphorically huge head of hers.
Looking at her right now, lying down on the ground, relaxing with her arms being used as her own pillow, it made me think. I just realised why I would ask such a question—her favourite colour.
It was a niggling sensation at the back of my head—something we have all seen but never really observed enough... and I want to smack my head silly because it is something so drastically obvious:
Scarlett can always match her clothes.
“Scar, may I ask you something?” I start again.
She hums in reply, closing her eyes. “Sure, what is it?” she asks me in the usual bored and sleepy tone of hers.
I observe her once more—on the ground as we listen to some Chopin—wearing her usual beige dressing gown which matches the colour of her brown silk pyjamas. The fact that I can always see her in one of two colours ever since I became coloured-eyed just surprises me.
There was not a day Scarlett wore anything mismatched. I had seen the others wear mismatched shirts, coats, waistcoats, trousers, shoes, and even socks—kinda embarrassing really—and it’s all because they’re all greyed-eyed.
Oh my God. Has she already met her soulmate but never told us?
“How do you match your clothes?” I ask.
“Pardon?” she asks, opening her eyes to look at me confusedly. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
“I asked you how you matched your clothes.”
She sits up almost immediately at that. “I don’t... Winter, you know, I feel like you’re starting to offend me by rubbing the fact that you’re coloured-eyed to my face. I don’t care about colours or the fact that I’m greyed-eyed. Are we clear on that? When is the attempt to brag ever going to end?”
“I’m not trying to brag!” I exclaim.
“Then, pray tell, what are you doing if not insulting me? Because we both know I will always have greyed-eyed.”
“I’m just trying to ask how—”
“Yes?” she interrupts.
“—how in the world do you manage to always have your clothes matched?” I ask her calmly.
She lies back down on the floor with a sigh, returning to her previous position. “That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“I buy everything in one set of colour every time I shop for clothes. The lady in the shop always guides me with the colours and I trust her judgment. Their matching colours are all in a certain order in my wardrobe so they are all in track to match their colours,” she explains. “Simple, really.”
“In what order are they organised?” I ask sceptically.
“Their chronology,” she answers, “of when I bought them. I even had the colours labelled, thanks to the lady there. With the help of society and information from the internet, I always know which colour to match together, and which colour never to match with.”
I nod to myself. “You do wear red almost all the time though.”
“As people had told me,” she answers plainly. “It is the first set of clothes in the wardrobe that I am able to reach easily. It’s not a surprise I always wear them. Plus, the texture of the clothing is better, and people compliment me on how it looks good on me, and how the colour makes me stand out more. I figured it best to wear them the most.”
Seems fair to me and I actually agree with what she said... but...
“Well... why the effort? Why would you go through all that? Why do you have to match the colours of your clothes? I mean, what’s the point? You can’t even see it...” I regret my words immediately after I said them.
Before I could apologise, however, Scarlett answers, “I may not see it but those who see colours do and I do not want to look moronic in front of them, to be quite honest. Imagine if you would see me in such atrocious colours... People say mismatched clothes could be unappealing,” she continues. “I don’t want people to see me as anything less than I want to exhibit.”
“So, you’re saying... you went through all that trouble for the sake of fashion?”
“Yes,” she answers plainly, “are we done now? I want to nap.”
Right... Maybe I’m wrong.
T W O Y E A R S L A T E R
Scarlett has already been told about my new announcement but she still insists on pretending not to know as we gather everyone in our favourite pub.
“So, why are we here?” Sweeney asks. “What’s the occasion?”
“Why would you all think there’s an occasion?” I ask.
“Come on, Winter... You were practically screaming on the phone,” Felicity observes, smiling amusedly.
“And we never come here on a Tuesday,” Lawrence points out. “So what’s the big news that can’t wait until Friday?”
“God, there’s absolutely no secret that can pass by here, is there?” I sigh, laughing. “Guess there’s no point in delaying anything—I’m moving in with Howard,” I announce.
Howard had spent a lot of time with these idiots. They seem to get on pretty well and thankfully, the others love him—which is actually a huge relief to me. Then again, Howard is my soulmate—my other half. Of course, if my friends love me, it’s only natural that my friends would love my other half, too.
Felicity starts shaking in happiness. Lawrence congratulates me with a pat on the shoulder. Sweeney gets the first round. Scarlett just sits there, looking out the window, wearing her signature blood red shirt and blood red scarf—but she said she doesn’t see colours so maybe it’s just her usual clothes and not her signature colour. For me, I’d say it still is.
“God, when’s he proposing?” Lawrence asks. “I think it’s about time, don’t you?” he asks me.
“Really, Law? Marriage? You may be a romantic but I’m not. Let’s focus on moving with him first before all that.” I laugh as they do.
He playfully punches me in the arm. “Come on! You’re moving in with your soulmate! And you’ve been together for about—what?—two years already? Of course, that’s going to lead to a proposal! That’s worth twenty rounds of drinks!”
“I suppose so.” I laugh.
“God, I’d kill for that opportunity. You’re so lucky. What does it look like again? The world in colour?” Felicity asks for the nth time.
“You know that I find it hard to explain. You feel colours. We can’t explain it... You can’t explain the unexplainable,” I say. “Even Science can’t explain this.”
“Fuck Science,” Felicity mocks.
“Feli, you’re a genius architects,” Lawrence points out.
“Fuck Science,” she repeats, laughing. “Speaking of which... Hey, Scar!”
Scarlett hums in answer, turning away from the window. What is she looking at out there anyway?
Oh...
Fireworks...
Colourful fireworks...
“Did you ever wonder what colours look like?” Felicity asks the others.
Just then, Sweeney arrives with the drinks and after being told by Felicity of what we are talking about, starts spewing stories about who he tried to imagine what they look like and ended up with a large headache.
“No,” Scarlett answers simply, dismissing us all by looking out the window again. With Scarlett, you never know what personality she has. She can be sweet, loud, or never talk at all. Her personality is all jumbled.
We all look at Lawrence who shifts uncomfortably on his seat. “I never really thought about it.”
“It must be beautiful,” Felicity moans. “Come on, colours! When will I ever see ya?!” she groans.
“You’ll meet your soulmate, Feli,” Sweeney says. “Too bad it isn’t me.” He winks at her. Felicity laughingly hits Sweeney on the back of his head.
Lawrence clears his throat, looking down at the table as if he is in some sort of trance. “Colours are amazing.” Everyone stares at him and he finally looks up, clearing his throat. “Theoretically, for us greyed-eyed, of course.” He whispers, “They say colours are so beautiful.” He smiles at the table once more.
Then I finally notice that Lawrence is wearing a blood red tie that matches with his brown three-piece suit.
M O M E N T S L A T E R
"Law, can I ask you something?” I ask Lawrence who had volunteered to drive me back home to Howard.
“Sure, anything.” He smiles briefly before turning his eyes back on the road.
“The colours of your clothes match,” I blurt out before I stop myself.
“That’s... not really a question, Winter,” he points out.
He didn’t deny nor confirm it—which means it’s worth investigating.
“I know... but what I’m asking is: who’s your soulmate? and why didn’t you tell us that you’re already coloured-eyed? and how long?” I ask him.
Lawrence looks at me briefly before sighing. “Swear on your life you won’t tell anyone.”
I nod. “Yes, I promise.”
“Not even Scar,” he points out because I always tell her everything.
“Yes, of course, I promise.”
He nods absentmindedly before smiling. “Well, she doesn’t want to be known. To be honest, I don’t want to expose anything about her either but... obviously, we’ve met. We’re both well aware about us being soulmates and we, er, always meet in secret and that’s when the fun usually begins.” He smiles.
“Do you love each other?”
“Well, if we didn’t, we wouldn’t be married now, would we?”
“WHAT?!” I yell out. “Married? What do you mean married? We haven’t even met her and you’re saying that you’re bloody married?! MARRIED?!”
“In secret, yeah. It was her idea to keep the marriage a secret, and I agree. No one knows about it and we love it that way... but it was my idea to get married. I proposed the usual way—fancy dinner, and with a ring, of course. Still, we always go to fancy restaurants so I didn’t look suspicious... Completely took her by surprise—which is saying something because she doesn’t get surprised easily.” Lawrence laughs.
"How long have you seen colours?" I ask.
"Eight? Nine years?" Lawrence shrugs.
"And how long have you been married?" I ask again.
He smiles. "Seven years."
"Jesus. That long?" I ask and Lawrence nods.
“Honestly, the moment I saw colours, neither of us said anything. I actually thought—no—feared that I was the only one who saw the colours but that was logically impossible... Soulmates are shared bonds so—of course—it had to be her... I remember she was wearing good but mismatched clothes—the look on her face...” He laughs. “I think that was the only time I ever saw her be horrified with herself... but coincidentally, we were wearing the same shirt colour.”
“Does she live with you?”
“No,” he laughs. “That would be hard since Scar lives with me. I’m just glad my soulmate is not the jealous type and she completely trusts me. Scar doesn’t know about her, of course, but our relationship works. My wife and I may be an odd couple but we work—beautifully.”
“You won’t stop talking.” I point out since Lawrence is usually quiet.
“You have no idea how long I’ve always wanted to talk about her. Obviously, I can’t say her name because she’ll kill me if she finds out but, at least, I could say things about her. Granted, I agreed with the secrecy and I love it but... I love her so much, you know? It’s hard not to say anything.” His voice dies down before he whispers, “She humbles me. I’ve always thought I was the smartest person in the room all the time... but then there’s her. I was so different. She made me a better man.”
“You've known your soulmate for a long time; you’re lucky.” I smile.
“Not always—I see you, Felicity, and Sweeney wear hideously coloured clothes all the time. Now, that’s unlucky... although... Scar always wear matched clothes, right? Did you notice that?” he asks me.
“Yeah... yeah, I did.”
“Do you think she met her soulmate? Did she tell you something about it?” he asks me. “She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Well, she told me she didn’t.”
“That’s a load of bull,” he exclaims.
“She says she buys everything in a colour set,” I explain and Lawrence nods, thinking deeply.
“Shame. I was kind of hoping there was something more to that. Imagine Scarlett finding her soulmate? She’d be furious—considering she's not interested about those kinds of things.”
“I don’t know... I still think she’s hiding something,” I add.
“Whatever it is, she will tell us eventually... I hope...” He laughs and I join him because it’s Scarlett. She won’t say shit.
T H R E E Y E A R S L A T E R
Tonight, Howard and I cuddle on the sofa as we watch telly when a banging on the door breaks our little Saturday ritual.
My husband stands up to go greet the person on the door. I close the telly and hear some mumbling before a pair of footsteps echoes through the corridor, making its way to the living room.
To my surprise, Scarlett enters. Her clothes are dripping wet from the rain outside—making her body shiver... but that’s not what surprised me.
Scarlett looks lost—scared beyond relief—and she has tears as well as scratches on her eyes.
“I’ll go make a cuppa,” Howard whispers, leaving us.
Scarlett’s legs folds under her and she sits down on the floor before bawling like a child. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never comforted Scarlett before because she never cried in front of me before.
"Scar, what is it?" I try to ask, crouching down in front of her and putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
Her only answer was a mere moan of pain. My eyes tear up at the sight of our most calculated analytical mind suffering under the maddening curse of being human.
I quickly text everyone to meet up at our house. Howard quietly places the tray with the tea on the table and stands on the side, giving both of us some space.
My attention goes back to Scarlett who whispers one thing, “Can’t...” and she cries out in pain once more.
I try my best to comfort her and Howard actually replaces me for the moment because I’m not really doing a good job with comforting her.
"Oh God, what happened?" Felicity asks when she barges in after being greeted by Howard, crouching down beside me. Sweeney quickly sits beside Scarlett and pulls her into a crushing hug, unlocking more of her emotions and making her cry harder, clutching Sweeney’s jacket tight.
I stand up, pulling Felicity with me, and whisper as to not be heard by Scarlett. "How'd you get here?" I ask Felicity first.
"Sweeney and I were both in the pub when you called," she answers. "God, what do we do?"
"Where's Law?" I ask Felicity. "If anyone knows Scar's limits, it's Lawrence."
"I've been trying to call him; no answer," Felicity whispers, shaking at the sight of a bawling Scarlett. "God, it's hard to see Scar this way. Did she tell you what happened?"
"I don't know." I panic. "She never cries in front of anyone—not to my knowledge, anyway," I say. "One of the two greatest minds in the generation—crying senseless. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I’m terrible with these kind of things."
We both turn back around when Scarlett suddenly yells out. The three of us are at a dead end. We don't know what to do. Seeing Scarlett cry is new for all of us. We may be the chosen ones for the government's research due to our combined intelligence but we are still at a lost with dealing with human emotions.
"Gone!" Scarlett yells.
"What's gone?" Felicity asks her gently, sitting down on Scarlett's other side..
"Gone," Scarlett whispers, leaning on Sweeney as he cradles her quietly.
"What's gone, Scar?" I ask.
Scarlett whimpers in reply and more tears fall from her eyes.
"It's okay. We've got you," Sweeney whispers, his hand going through Scarlett's hair to comfort her.
We all keep quiet.
Too bad I didn't observe enough. I would have seen Scarlett wearing a black left shoe and a brown right shoe.
M U C H L A T E R
Lawrence's funeral was held quietly.
Car accident.
"Lawrence Alcott was a good man—the best man," Sweeney says, his voice trembling. "He's my best mate. I still don't—I don't know why this has to happen. I'm an arsehole and I had some words at him too but he stuck by me. He's a really good man and I don't know why this has to—I'm just—I'm really angry at him for—for leaving." Sweeney wipes his tears angrily and doesn't bother to finish his speech and walks away. He and Sweeney were inseparable—except to death, apparently.
Felicity walks in front, "Lawrence is... was a kind man—the most generous person you could ever hope for. With him, I could see colours. I may still be greyed-eyed, but Law here—Law gives out his own colours." Felicity laughs. "He may be the smartest man on Earth but he is also an idiot—our idiot. We love him so much and this is really unfair. Law keeps us all together. He's our glue. We could easily fall apart without him. This is—this is just so hard."
I walk in front, trembling. Felicity and Sweeney smile at me despite both having tears in their eyes. Howard gives me a small encouraging smile—my rock. Scarlett is still stone-faced. She has been quiet all day—all of us, really, but her quietness is too loud, even for me. She had been screaming inside that head of hers and every one of us can hear it.
"Lawrence saved my life countless of times, in many different ways. He's our leader. Now, we're afraid we'd be lost without him. He has been more like a brother to me than a friend, to be honest... and I love him like one would treat family. Bit of a reckless idiot, yes, but he was young—too young and I can't believe I am standing here right now." My voice breaks and I pause. Sniffing, I say what I always tell Lawrence, "Law, you idiot," probably for the last time.
I go back to my seat before I drop there and then and start screaming.
Scarlett walks slowly in front—not a tear or emotion in her eye. Facing Lawrence's coffin, she sighs and turns to stare at everyone. The three of us have been waiting for her speech since she had not said a word since this morning and we all wish to know what she's about to say.
"Of all the ways Lawrence could have died, it had to be a car accident." She laughs humourlessly. "The two of us had talked about it once. He said he wanted to die a tragic but unforgettable death. I knew he was talking about dying in a theatrical manner from a gun shot or something heroic like that—something worth writing in our history books... but who knew that even with something as ordinary as a car crash, he still died tragically in an unforgettable way—guess he still got what he wanted, then."
Scarlett breathes in as she looks at Lawrence's direction again.
"Lawrence is someone I hold very dear to me... and I never say that plainly. He is my first friend—the first person to talk to me. The first thing he told me was, 'If you ever take my job from me, I'll cut you in half.'" Everyone manages to laugh at that. "The last thing he ever told me is something I cannot say for I wish to cherish it for as long as I am living. He's the best person I have ever met and I will always keep him in my heart—and yes, I do have one."
We all look at her, and she smiles at us.
"As you can see from my friends' faces, my words aren't usual. I would never say things like this about anyone, but there is always one exception with every rule. Lawrence will always be my one exception. You'd expect that from me, but I will always think of him as he once said he'd do for me if I ever died before him: Perfectly impossible to exist."
Scarlett insists on digging Lawrence's grave herself.
She doesn't let anyone help her. She practically growled at Sweeney when he tried taking the shovel away from her... but it doesn't matter. Scarlett is a strong woman. She can do this. It is an intimate act—to bury your loved one, and Lawrence was her best friend.
Sweeney, Felicity, and I stand behind Scarlett, looking down at Lawrence's grave as everyone else goes home after the funeral service.
"Everything is grey," she whispers, tears on her cheeks.
"Grey?" Sweeney asks.
Scarlett nods. "Grey," she whispers, gesturing around.
The three of us look at each other, surprised with the revelation.
"He's your soulmate, then?" Felicity asks.
"And husband," Scarlett answers.
"You're married?!" The two shrieks. I give them pointed looks to let Mrs. Scarlett Alcott grieve. I mouth to them that I'll tell the whole story later.
She laughs for a moment. When she stops, she adds, "I'm pregnant, too," with a shaking voice. She whimpers with her words, opening her large coat and placing her hand on a bump where a child is brewing.
"He was so happy..." she cries.
This is all new for us but we don't speak.
She continues almost hysterically with her voice unusually high-pitched, "W-we were going to... to... finally tell you all—about us... about this," she says, gesturing at her eyes. "We were going to surprise you all by... by going to the pub t-together with... with a b-baby in my arms and our wedding bands on. The plan was so perfect."
Her voice breaks at the end and she starts crying again, bending down as if she was punched in the gut as she finally lets go of her bottled up emotions. Sweeney and Felicity are beside her almost immediately, helping her stand up.
She takes something out from her pocket. A gold band wedding ring and a gold ring with a ruby (probably the engagement ring) and places them on her left ring finger.
"At least we finally wore the wedding rings outside the comforts of our isolation at the same time," she whispers weakly. "He's wearing it right now—his own wedding band... My dead husband is wearing his wedding ring."
Scarlett suddenly falls down on her knees and screams out.
Felicity, Sweeney, and I all kneel down with her and hug her.
"Winter..." Scarlett whispers.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Did I bring the right scarf?" she asks me. I look and see her raise her signature blood red scarf. "Is it our... colour?" she asks me.
"Is your colour blood red?" I ask. She winces but nods. "Yes, you—you have the right colour..."
She removes herself from us and moves closer to Lawrence's grave. "Warm up, my love," she whispers, putting the scarf around the grave as if it was Lawrence's neck. "I don't want you to get cold." Scarlett's voice cracks on the last part.
When we all leave, Sweeney decides to drive Scarlett to her and Lawrence's secret family home. Felicity is still shaking as we leave.
Howard has been waiting for me outside the cemetery patiently. I quickly hug my husband, not wanting to let go.
I don't want to see the world in black and white.
Not ever.
To read more: https://www.wattpad.com/story/43551432-soulmate-au
A U T H O R ‘ S N O T E
Here it is, the first story out of many more I am willing to write. Just tell me what you think and whether I should continue posting my other works...
Oh, and FUN FACT!
“Warm up, my love, I don’t want you to get cold,” are the last words Scarlett heard Lawrence say.
What happened is that:
Lawrence drove Scarlett to her office because it was raining. She was going to go there to finish some work she needed done by Monday (remember, this is a Saturday). Before Scarlett leaves the car, Lawrence tells her the scarf thing... He died while he was driving back home because it was rainy and some idiot driver decided to be an idiot and crashed him.
...Okay, maybe not a fun fact.
im sorry
#Soulmate AU#Soulmate#AU#Soulmates#Stories#Oneshot#Oneshots#One Shots#Original Story#Own Characters#Based on Some People#LOL#IAmAdlocked Stories#people say this is a sad story#well#it is#good luck
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