Chapter Text
You know, upon looking back on the day I met my soulmate, I realised my morning wasn’t that bad. I finally met my soulmate, after all. That definitely outweighed all of the horrible events (aka minor inconveniences) that I experienced on my way to meet up with my best friend Norrie, who was travelling down to London from Leeds to see me and visit my new flat. My very, very overpriced flat that I could barely afford, but hey, it was mine nonetheless.
The day started out like any other. I had the same dream I had at least once a month, where a man with a London accent would tell me he was sorry. The most frustrating part of this dream was that I never got to see said man, nor could I see anything that would even point me in the right direction of where to meet this mystery man. Norrie said that this man was my soulmate; apparently the universe tried to help guide people together when the words they had tattooed on their skin didn’t reveal much to go off of. This was true in my case. I only had the words Oh, I’m so sorry on my right forearm. How the ever living fuck was I supposed to find my soulmate based on that? Would they say it to me after my rabbit died? (No, the response from the rather fit vet tech had been I’m so sorry for your loss .) How about when they stepped on my foot in the Tube? Or would they end up spilling a drink on me at some fancy bar that Norrie was always trying to drag me to? No, it seemed like I was never meant to find my soulmate, no matter how many times Norrie would quite literally push me towards posh-looking men who might, just might, cause me some minor inconvenience.
I had somehow slept through the multiple alarms I had set myself, so I woke up 30 minutes later than expected and didn’t have enough time to really style my hair. Not that it would have mattered anyway, because it was pouring down rain outside, and no amount of product could keep my hair in place once it got humid. I could braid it back, I thought to myself, but I decided against it. My cat, Skull, had a habit of playing with my bobby pins and moving them to God-knows-where and I knew I didn’t have enough stashed away to keep my shoulder length hair somewhat in a braid. No, I’d just leave it as it was and hope for the best.
Luckily, past me had decided to finally do her laundry two nights ago, so my favourite blue jumper was clean. I put it on and chose a pair of plain black trousers to go with it, before slipping on my well-worn Doc Martens. Perfect. I grabbed my rucksack and an umbrella, gave Skull a pat on the head as goodbye, and slipped out the door, only five minutes late. Not that it would end up mattering; Norrie would most definitely be late as well.
The Tube ride to King’s Cross was as packed as ever, especially given the horrible rain, and I was sandwiched in between two people who didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. Ugh. Neither of them had the decency to apologise when they bumped into me, so there were two more people crossed off my mental list of potential soulmates.
After what had seemed like ages but was probably only twenty minutes in total, I finally found myself at the Pret A Manger near King’s Cross where Norrie and I had agreed to meet up. I wasn’t really one for coffee shops and overpriced drinks; my obnoxiously expensive flat meant that I had to scrimp and save where I could. The cafe was packed and I couldn’t see a free table anywhere. I begrudgingly ordered a chai latte, cringing inside as I forked over six pounds for a drink I definitely could’ve made at home.
I moved off to the side of the cafe as I waited for my drink to be called. I always tried my best to keep my distance from others, but the place was too damn packed to be alone. I decided my best bet would be to stand next to a tall young man in a suit who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Same. Maybe he’d actually apologise if he bumped into me.
My drink order was called, and I walked over to pick it up. There were still no empty tables, so I stood off to the side again and waited for my drink to cool down a bit before I attempted a sip. The drink actually smelled good, and I was excited to try it. The man next to me was still fidgeting a lot, and I was going to work up the courage to ask him if he was alright when a voice cut through the crowded cafe and my life changed forever.
Sorry, a bit dramatic of me, but it’s true.
“Lockwood! There you are. Sorry I’m late!” The man next to me turned suddenly, and I didn’t have enough time to move out of the way before he bumped into me, which caused my still way too hot latte to spill all over my jumper. Fuck. I didn’t bring a jacket or coat with me, thinking that I’d be warm enough in the Tube and in the cafe, but now I was standing there in a sopping wet jumper with nothing to cover up the gigantic stain.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a posh voice said. The voice sounded familiar, like the one in my dreams, but I was too distracted by the sensation of a hot drink spilling on my jumper to really consider the words I had just heard. The same words that were tattooed on my forearm. I looked up, and it was the awkward young man from before. He was quite handsome, actually, and if it wasn’t for the fact that I could possibly get first-degree burns from this, I probably would’ve responded a lot nicer than I actually did.
As it turned out, I was in an awful mood, and the posh prick got the brunt of it. “You bloody prick! I just spent six quid on this damn latte and now I’m practically wearing it!” The man was now staring at me like I had gone absolutely bonkers, and that made me even angrier. “Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth agape. Are you gonna buy me a new drink or not?” There was still no response from him. “Hello? Are you even listening to me? God, what a fucking awful day.” I ended with a deep breath in to try and calm myself down.
“I am so sorry,” the man repeated himself. It was like he didn’t know what else to say. Could this really be my soulmate?
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t make up for the six quid I just wasted on this drink, arsehole,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as I gestured to my now practically empty coffee cup.
“Yes, of course, sorry, of course I’ll pay for your drink,” he said quickly, eyeing my coffee cup as if he were afraid I’d pour the rest on him. “What’ll you have? I’m Lockwood, by the way. Anthony Lockwood. I didn’t catch your name.” The name fit him. Bloody wanker.
“Yeah, because I didn’t tell you it.” That came out a bit ruder than I had intended, so I sighed and tried again with a nicer tone. “A chai latte to go, please. I was supposed to meet my friend Norrie here, but it doesn’t seem like she’s coming any time soon, what with the horrible weather and all.”
The man, Lockwood, nodded and went to the queue to buy me a new drink. The line was a lot shorter than when I had waited in it, so he was back near me in no time. I looked around the cafe and spotted a free table, which I hastily made my way towards. At least I could sit while I waited for my replacement latte.
Lockwood then waved over his friend, the reason why I was in this mess to begin with. They chatted amongst themselves, before the friend looked over at me. He looked familiar, but my eyesight admittedly wasn’t the best, and I had forgotten to put in my contacts this morning.
“Lucy!” Lockwood’s friend called. I squinted to try to make out his face. Ah, it was George, Flo’s boyfriend. Flo had been in one of my art history tutorials, and George would always hang around the uni waiting for us to finish.
“George!” I said, getting up to greet him. I’d normally go in for a hug, but like Flo, George hated unnecessary physical contact. “How nice to see you again! It’s been ages. Your posh mate here just caused me to spill my drink on myself,” I said as I gestured to my hopefully not totally ruined jumper. “At least he had the decency to buy me a new one.”
“Ah, yes, that’s Lockwood for you. A clumsy bloke, he is,” George replied. “Listen, Lucy, you don’t happen to remember what Lockwood here said to you after he bumped into you, do you?”
I frowned, not quite sure what he meant, but rolled up my right sleeve out of habit and looked at the words there. Oh, I’m so sorry. It slowly hit me that Lockwood must be my soulmate. “Oh…” I said slowly, and I was starting to feel a bit embarrassed, “oh, that makes sense.” I stuck out my hand, hoping to God that Lockwood wouldn’t be the petty type and would actually shake it. “Thanks for buying me a new drink.”
To my surprise and joy, Lockwood took my hand with a smile. I felt a wondrous sensation as his fingertips brushed mine, and I let out a soft gasp. Was this what it was like to finally meet your soulmate?
George suddenly looked very uncomfortable, like he couldn’t handle the amount of physical contact going on between Lockwood and me. “See you two later, then,” he said quickly. “Bye.”
“Bye,” we said in unison. I was staring into his eyes. They were a rich shade of brown, and I desperately wished I had my sketchpad on me so I could draw his expression. Nevermind the fact that it probably would’ve gotten ruined due to all of the rain. The moment was ruined when one of the baristas announced that my latte was ready, and I hurried to go get it.
“So,” I said once I was seated and had a new, still much too hot drink in my hand, “how much space did my rant take up on your body?” I winced internally, remembering the choice words I had for him. We were both lucky I didn’t rant any longer. God, what if he hated me for this?
“Oh, the entirety of my back,” Lockwood said with a grin. “My parents said the word ‘fucking’ didn’t fully come in until I was six months old, and they were only able to read the whole thing once I turned one.”
“Oh God,” I said, burying my face in my hands. “Y’know, I never was really able to guess what my first words to my soulmate – or to you, I guess – would be, given that what you said to me was pretty basic conversation.” I gestured to my forearm, where Lockwood’s first words to me were still inked there in perfect penmanship. I loathed to think of how my rant appeared on Lockwood’s skin. My handwriting was shite, no matter how hard I tried to improve it.
Lockwood looked like he was going to respond, but Norrie finally decided to make her appearance. I perked up as I heard the door chime and saw her grinning face. She was a slender redhead with an even choppier fringe than mine – she couldn’t be bothered to get it trimmed professionally and insisted on cutting it herself.
“Norrie!” I called excitedly, “over here!” Norrie slid into the open seat next to me with a grin. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages,” I said. “Where have you been?”
“Sorry, Luce,” Norrie said nonchalantly, as was typical for her. “My train from Leeds was delayed and you know I barely get any mobile reception on the way to London. I’ve made it, though. Who’s this?” She nodded at Lockwood.
“Anthony Lockwood, or Lockwood if you don’t mind,” Lockwood said. He looked a bit startled at the interruption, but continued on like nothing was the matter. “I bumped into Lucy a little bit ago and had just bought her a new drink. You must be Norrie, then?”
“Lockwood’s my soulmate,” I explained quickly to Norrie, in a slightly higher pitched tone than was normal for me. Norrie raised a brow. She was always quick on the uptake, and I knew it wouldn’t have taken long for her to put all the pieces together. I realised my sleeve was still rolled up too.
“And where’s the proof?” Norrie asked sceptically, giving Lockwood a look. “I can see she’s shown you her mark, but what about you, you posh muppet? Where’s your mark at?” I groaned internally. As polite as Lockwood seemed to be, Norrie was just as abrasive. I usually loved that about her, but not right now.
“You don’t have to show her,” I interjected before turning to Norrie, “He said it’s on his back, and it’s rather embarrassing.” I gave her a look that meant Don’t push it , but Norrie ignored it and pressed on.
“Well, go on, then,” Norrie said to Lockwood. She gave him a look I knew all too well, and I hoped Lockwood wouldn’t give in. “Show us.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to take my shirt off in public,” he said slowly, “but here, my friend George took a picture of it when we started uni. I already have the damn thing memorised.” He unlocked his phone and slid it over to us, where I could see a picture of a remarkably pale back and what was most definitely my shitty handwriting. “Should I say it as you read along?” I groaned, but Norrie nodded excitedly, so Lockwood cleared his throat and began.
“You bloody prick! I just spent six quid on this damn latte and now I’m practically wearing it! Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth agape. Are you gonna buy me a new drink or not? Hello? Are you even listening to me? God, what a fucking awful day.” I could tell he was trying to imitate my Northern accent. God, he was awful at it.
I frowned at him when he was done. “That’s not what I sounded like, you dolt.”
Norrie smirked at me. “Only one use of the word ‘fucking?’ You’ve gone soft, haven’t you, Luce?” I had gone soft, it seemed. Norrie was right, I usually cursed a lot more. She got up. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to it while I fetch myself a drink. I don’t fancy being the third wheel for however long it takes you two to exchange phone numbers. Best get on with it.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” I said when it was just the two of us again. “First George, and now Norrie; I'm afraid we must’ve started off on the wrong foot.” I fiddled with my coffee cup, unsure of what else to say.
“Well, we can always start over,” Lockwood suggested. He held out his hand again. “I’m Anthony Lockwood, how do you do?” He gave me a huge smile, and I couldn’t help but return it.
“Lucy Carlyle,” I said as I shook his hand for the second time. “A pleasure to meet you.” I felt the sparks again, and all felt right in the world.