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It's not raining, so Ivan takes the excuse to step out of holding himself inside his apartment and heads to his favorite café. He wants something warm. He catches the blips of glowing spirits flushing with lover's company as he brushes through the crowd of a bustling town and traffic. Maybe today he would order something different. Something with cinnamon? By the time he gets to the counter, he will shirk and ask for the same, and he knows that but tries to keep the thought down.
Yes, the days, months, years passing of doing the same thing is predictable, but he is safe. He is comfortable. He is lonely. And that is fine. He is used to it. He has a roof over his head in a decent apartment and food to eat with decent money coming working at the corner mart and with his knitting projects. Besides, people can be noisy and rude. The quiet is okay. Everything is okay.
The wind touches the back of his throat and settles in his lungs. He tucks his nose into his scarf and lets out a cough. A couple passes by, giggling and swinging their hands, cheeks radiating in mutual glow. He feels his mouth turning up, but it's hidden from the cold, and they brush by, continuing their lives with someone sweet to lean against.
Everyone thinks of their soulmate. He is no different. Yes, he is fine, he isn't dying without one, but the thoughts are in his head and they won't go away. It's more common to find a soulmate growing up, going to school, college, or from work. Sometimes it takes a while. Ivan supposes he's one of the ones that takes a long while, but he is patient, trying not to linger on the shot of fear that he left his soulmate back in Russia.
He stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and walks a little faster. Winter makes his skin prickly. He knows the quiet of his own company but sees the couples swinging their arms without a care in the world laughing and smiling at one another. If someone smiled up at him like that...
Ivan is a typical, lonely man, pining for someone to overlook his flaws, yet afraid to ask more from life when it was just starting to be all right.
A crosswalk comes up. Ivan takes a deep breath, and his chest feels tight. He was quick to come downtown, but his heart pounds and doesn't stop. He ends at the dip in the sidewalk as the traffic light is still green and presses a palm against his chest. It's in his ears. Breath comes out of his mouth in quick puffs. He props against the street pole, half-kidding with himself that he is having an early death. Turning to the crowd for help is somehow a worse thing. His skin prickles all over. He can hear and see just fine. Something deep inside stirs and he doesn't know if it's good or bad, but it's almost overwhelming.
A sole figure stands on the curb across the street. The man is still against the noon crowd, looking side to side as if he lost something. In simple fur-lined jacket and jeans, big eyes and just as big of a pout, he's somehow endearing while confused. Ivan only glances in the direction of the traffic light as he pushes forward to cross the road. The stranger is absolutely glowing.
Glowing! Ivan is radiating from the inside out. He wouldn't die without a soulmate, but when the man turns away, his eyes are on nothing else.
It's happening? Is the universe being kind? Finally?
Ivan does that awkward pedestrian half-jog the rest of the way before he would lose the man in the crowd. People give a tall, hulking stranger weird looks and swerve around him.
A bus stop is nearby. Ivan pushes around the hut. He stops dead in his tracks. The stranger has his arms around another's shoulders, squeezing him close. All Ivan sees is a mess of blond hair and a tan pea coat, then a hand coming up and tapping the man's arm. They separate—more like the man lets the other go—and they stare at each other as they see the moon for the first time. The veins running up their necks pool a glow in both of their cheeks and their hair frame their faces like halos.
They break into an onslaught of happy noises, disbelief, squeals, laughter. They're lovely. Ivan is alone. His mistake. He sharply turns away.
He has to remember to breathe and it's hard going down. He needs to sit. He goes around the bus stop, only for his boots to grind against the concrete, tattling as he jumps and skitters to the other side of the wall. The pair comes around, nothing but smiles and cackling (from the taller one), and he presses against the hut, out of sight.
Ivan glances down and pulls back the sleeve of his coat, just enough to see the lines in his wrist are still very much alive in light. It's giving him the energy to sail over the streets and he's grounded. He doesn't notice anybody else glowing. Nobody else notices themselves glowing as they continue their hustle.
The thick plastic wall bows the slightest as Ivan slumps against it. He's not imagining it. He's ignited, and it's a mistake on the universe's part.
"Where you headed?" A distinct American accent, courtesy of the area.
"Millersville," a decent British accent responds. A shiver runs up Ivan's spine. "Just next door."
"No way! That's where I'm headed! Got something to pick up at the corner mart there. This thing is really meant to be, huh?" They both chuckle at that one. "What'cha doin’ over there?"
"Working," is all the other man says with amusement underlining his voice.
"Oh, yeah? Where at?"
A moment of silence. The British man becomes a little quiet, "Luxom's Accounting Office. I run numbers..."
"Ooh, so you're an accountant! Doing math and stuff! Pretty smart." Perfect for them; one grunts and grumbles and the other eagerly carries the conversation. "You know, I'm at the garage at the end of the road here. We should get together here sometime and grab something to eat."
The bus comes and stops with a whistle and hiss of gas. Ivan sniffs and sharply turns away so he doesn't have to see the couple boarding and sitting together on the other side of the windows. The bus leaves. Ivan peeks at his wrist again. It no longer glows. Everyone continues their lives as normal.
He's no longer hungry.
~.~
Something is wrong. With him? With whatever brings the glow to their blood? It wasn't a sunny day. It couldn't have been a trick of the light.
Unless there was somebody else in the crowd, and he was too busy ogling at those strangers!
He works part time at the corner market in Millersville. He does knitting projects on the side. They only busy his hands. He is fine. Life is okay. He has been knocked from the edge he had managed to latch onto and pull himself toward. Falling, falling.
Through a couple of days, weeks, he wanders the world (maybe just the town) as he always has done. It's the same thing, same time, same place, same people he wants to recognize but cowards out of it. Same everything. It hurts more. A giant, invisible hand wraps around his torso and squeezes until his heart could fall out. Those two strangers are happy. They're probably watching sunsets and kissing each other right now. They made his life worse. It isn't their fault. Those evil thoughts just like to sink their tiny teeth into his scalp and never let go.
Ivan runs out of coffee one morning, and begrudgingly leaves his apartment early enough to stop by his favorite café and still be early to work. Pettily, he goes the other way around, crossing the road as soon as he leaves his apartment building and stays far from the bus stop.
Unfortunately, coming to the café earlier means running into the breakfast rush, and the line is nearly out the door. The baristas are zagging back and forth. Ivan grimaces over everyone's heads. Bad luck. He ducks into the bathroom in relief for himself and the noisy crowd. Who would think people are so chatty after they just woke up and dragged themselves out the door? He plays a pixel game off his flip-phone for a few minutes before a flush prompts him to get a move on. There's already someone at the counter. Ivan takes the other sink, pulls up his sleeves, and scrubs his hands.
"Oh, my god!" The man next to him squawks. Ivan jumps and looks up like there's a fire. Wide, very blue eyes meet his own. The stranger dances and flaps his hands before slapping his neck, pulling up his own sleeves, and dances some more, "Look, look, look!"
It's the man from the bus stop. He's glowing. They're both glowing. Ivan looks from his own arms to the man's face and back to his arms. Still glowing. The man pulls away and glances at the stalls before coming back, grinning brighter than the fluorescents. Nobody else is in there but them. It is true? It isn't a mistake? This man is Ivan's soulmate? Up close, he's beautiful, ripped from a magazine. Dimples. His eyes crinkle as he smiles.
"No way," he manages to whisper loudly, "I get two boyfriends!"
"Huh? But, ah, uh, I...!" Ivan cheeps as the other man snags his forearm and drags him out of the restroom. The tables are tight together, the place is crowded, and his brain focuses on how strong the man's hand is. Sports? Muscles? Somehow, they have a table by the window, the best seat in the house. There's another, the other man at the bus stop. Ivan can see his face fully now, too. His hair is messy, but in an endearing way. Older. Are his eyes green? Eyebrows. A lot of eyebrow. The touch of glowing comes to his veins.
"Artie!" The excited one jigs and stops. "Arthur, this guy, he's glowing!" He turns and pulls up Ivan's coat sleeve enough to showcase light. "We were in the bathroom and there was nobody else in there! I think I have another soulmate! Two of them! I mean, I was freaking happy to have one, but two! Two!"
The other man, Arthur, opens his mouth, but it hangs. He closes it with a little shake of the head, a tight smile. "I don't know what to say."
Oh no. This is not good. Not good at all. Ivan's soulmate already has a soulmate. Oh, no, no, no, this is worse than staying alone forever. The excited man says something that he doesn't catch. Arthur nods. That's the fakest smile Ivan has ever seen, and he looks in the mirror every day.
A hand comes out. Ivan blinks. "I think we should start with names. I'm Alfred. This is Arthur. My...other soulmate."
Ivan catches his own unoccupied hand tracing the top of his scarf, side-to-side, over and over. He jerks it away and clasps Alfred's palm. He's warm. "Ivan. Hello."
Arthur clears his throat, and Ivan glances at him, momentarily surprised as he holds out his arm. They also shake hands. Thinner, still sturdy, and something deep inside Ivan likes the way his hand swallows Arthur's, but he is used to that. Their simultaneous glowing mocks each other. Surprisingly, Arthur doesn't clench and rip his arm off. "Morning. Alfred, dear, why don't you check on our orders?"
“I...yeah, sure.” Alfred pulls a smile, but quickly hustles to the counter.
Ivan pinches his own fingers as Arthur stares at him. Quiet, curt, he fights something from showing on his face, but remains polite. Ivan is obviously treading on toes. It won't be fun having those glares as he steals Alfred away, and he will have Alfred stolen away when it's Arthur's turn. He never wanted a soulmate if it came to this!
Maybe he should run? He is sure Alfred can get over it. He already has a soulmate. They have each other. It won't be a lost if one drops. Arthur would be pleased. Ivan's eyes begin to sting, and he clamps onto his scarf again.
"Sit down already!" Arthur gruffs. "I'm not going to bite you."
Ivan doubts it but settles.
Arthur shifts in his seat, looking at his lap. "Ah." He raises his hand and presses a palm to Ivan's forearm. He gently folds back his sleeve. Ivan makes no move. He is an itty mouse in the corner of the snake's nest. A cool fingertip traces the trail of gentle light running up his arm. Green eyes meet his own. Pretty. They're pretty. Arthur retracts and turns his face away. Etched gold runs up his neck and bleeds into the pink on his face.
Alfred is still at the counter, bopping on his toes as if he could see barista magic.
"I seem to have misinterpreted the situation."
Ivan's chest hurts again. He realizes he isn't breathing. He lets out a little scoff. A laugh. His shoulders slump, and he stares at Arthur's hand resting on the table. The knuckles are prominent. Ivan wants to run his fingers over them. A flicker of eyes. Arthur turns his head, and a real smile grows the apples of his cheeks. He reaches out with both hands and cups Ivan's. "I should apologize for my cold behavior."
"Jealous?"
"Have you seen the lad?"
"I would be jealous, too," Ivan admits. He rubs his finger and thumb over one of Arthur's fingers and moves to the next one. He feels awkward but elated and he can't help a smile, "Two. For all of us. Very lucky."
Arthur smiles like he's fighting it and losing.
Alfred comes back, gawking at their joined hands. They all stare at one another."
"You left and I was still glowing," Arthur says. "You've caught something fine."
Something like pure joy blooms across Alfred’s face. Ivan never saw anything like it. Alfred sets two cups and a pastry bag on the table. Claps ecstatically a few times. Rushes around the table. He slings an arm over Ivan's shoulders and cups his jaw, squishing his nose to cheek in a noisy, "Mmm!" Kiss. He pulls away with a mwah! and rushes to decorate Arthur with equal vigor.
He makes Ivan's head spin. Both of them do. Both. Two. It is a good spin, going around and around in a field of flowers. Ivan touches the spot where Alfred left a bit of wetness, and pulls his scarf over his chin, resisting the urge to shake his legs like a child. Two!
"Alfred," Arthur scolds, "you made him shy."
Alfred holds his arms from himself, hands out as if to show off. "You know what? Great! I'm gonna get you a donut. You like coffee? How about two donuts. Heck, this is a celebration!" His voice climbed, "I'm gonna get a whole dozen!"
"Just two would be fine!" Arthur calls after him. People stare. He rolls his eyes, but the cheek-scrunch is still there. His hand pats the table, and Ivan realizes he's seeking his hand, and tangles their fingers together. They exchange grins across the table. Ivan thinks of kissing him silly.