Transcendence: A Request Prompt (3/5)

New York City
United States of America
November 2118

“Free – Free, are you alright?”

Ansel quickly let go of his burning arm, looking up. In front of his desk stood Marion Salazar, the female peering at him with a frown. “M-Marion. I’m fine, why are you asking?”

“You’ve been clutching at your arm like you got bit or something,” the female noted. Marion was a hair and makeup artist at the company where they worked, the twosome hitting it off during one of their breaks. Ansel had been taking charge of the camera for an endless amount of hours, and the curly-haired girl took pity on him. By the end of the day, he saw a sandwich and hot cup of coffee on his desk, along with a note scribbled on pink post-it.

Hiya! I saw how hard you worked today without a single break. Here’s a small reward from me. We can eat tomorrow if you’d like, before the next shooting!

PS: No need to pay me. :P

-Marion Salazar

Ever since then, the two bonded and became very good friends. Marion, apparently, had been living in New York since her birth and had already found her Soul Mate. Her own outline was colored in with a gentle lilac color, and there were also twelve tick marks on her right wrist.

“It’s been bugging me, actually,” he admitted to her. The woman blinked, confused. “Well. When I woke up, it was itching a little bit. I thought a mosquito bit me and didn’t think of it, but it just suddenly went wild and I feel like something burned me,” he complained. “I might go to a doctor if this goes on. It’s fucking me up.”

Marion was silent for a few moments.

“Mar? Marion? What the hell’s wrong–”

“Itching?” she asked abruptly, staring him in the eye. “Then a burning sensation?”

“Yes–”

“Do you have a gut feeling?”

“Yes – wait, how’d you know?”

The concerned look on Marion’s face immediately vanished. Instead, a smug and all-knowing smile replaced her small frown. “You know what? Let’s go to Starbucks. You need a quick fix before your next take, which is in four hours.”

“I can’t leave, you know that.”

“Fuck that. You’ve been OTing, you deserve a leave.” Marion yanked him from his seat harshly, “Now let’s go, Free.”

* * * * *

Luckily for them, Starbucks wasn’t so crowed yet. There was a moderate amount of people present, and it didn’t look like the baristas present wanted to chuck coffee down someone’s throat. Yet.

“Come on, Free – you go first. I need to guard our table,” Marion insisted. Ansel merely nodded and walked to the front, lining up and analyzing the menu with a blank look in his eyes. He scanned the food on display and eventually decided on his order, taking out the black leather wallet from his pocket.

A searing burn came from his forearm. The male gave a hiss and resisted the urge to ask for a cup of ice for the burn, forcing a smile on his face when the male cashier asked for his order. “Egg sandwich and a mocha frappuccino, grande.” The male nodded and keyed it in, Ansel paying down to the exact cent.

“Name, sir?”

“Ansel. Ansel Altair,” he said without thinking, kicking himself internally after that. Shit. Why did I just give out my stupid middle name?

“It’ll be ready in a few, sir. Have a good day!” Ansel gave a stiff nod in reply and went off, leaning against the wall of the café and attempting to give his burning arm some relief.

From the other side of the room, he could feel Marion’s eyes, watching him. I should go home after this, he ended up thinking, Fuck – I may not be able to make it through the rest of the fucking day if this keeps up –

“Egg sandwich and a grande-sized mocha frap for Ansel Altair!” someone called out. Ansel forcibly shoved himself off the wall and walked to the claiming area, keeping his eyes cast downward. “Ansel Altair, hm?”

He blinked. “W-What?”

“Did they run out of Hs in the alphabet, Retel?” the voice teased. His head snapped up and he found himself looking at a smaller female, her mouth curved upwards in a small smirk. There was a tray on the counter. Ansel merely gaped at her, as if unable to comprehend what she had just said. At his lack of response, the female narrowed her brows.

“Wait – do you even get my reference?”

“I – I’m afraid I don’t,” he managed. At that, she gave a loud sigh and shook her head.

“How disappointing. Read up on your fairy tales – Hansel and Gretel ring a bell to you?” Ansel’s cheeks suddenly flamed and the lady gave a bigger smirk upon seeing his reddened expression, chuckling softly to herself. “Receipt.”

“R-Right. Here it is,” he shakily took the paper out of his wallet (trying to think properly through the burning feeling) and gave it to her –

His fingers brushed against hers lightly, and Ansel felt as if he were completely engulfed in flame.

* * * * *

“Are you friends with the group over there?” Ansel looked at the circle of friends on the floor, each one of them reading into a piece of scratch paper.

“Yes, I am.” he heard himself reply. A female’s voice. “Why?”

The other girl, who was seated down, calmly took a pencil from the top of her skirt and handed it back. Ansel took the pencil. “They threw it here by mistake.” He felt himself blush and open his mouth, but the girl merely smiled at him and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Really. What’s your name?”

“I’m–”

“Are you alright? Oh my God, are you alright?”

 Ansel jerked back, feeling his glasses slide from his face at the sudden movement. They landed on the floor with a clang and he scrambled to pick them up, nearly banging his head on the counter as he stood back up. He could hear the girl move and in a flash, she was in front of him, helping him get back on his feet.

“We need to sit you down,” the girl continued, and he couldn’t find the words to speak. Before he knew it, the pair was seated and Marion stood over them, her mouth agape as she held the tray in her hands. “Hey – are you dizzy? Do you need a hospital?”

“I – I don’t need an ambulance,” he managed. The barista seemed a little more relieved that he could talk. “What happened?”

“You were out of it,” the girl explained to both him and Marion. Marion had taken a seat next to Ansel, keeping him upright in case he’d pass out. “After you gave me the receipt, it was like you were an empty shell. And when you got back, I thought you’d pass out or something, Retel.” She laced her explanation with the name she had come up, trying to make the whole situation a tinge bit better. But Ansel was confused and Marion was quiet, so she had no idea what to say next.

“Um,” the brunette scratched her neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling the tension rise, “I’m Elena, by the way. Elena Jones. Are you sure you’re alright, Ansel?”

For some reason, hearing her say his name was like hearing music for the first time.

“Elena,” he repeated. She nodded. “…I think I feel better, now. Thank you,” he said sincerely, and he noticed her form relax.

“That’s good. Really good.” She peeked over her shoulder and grimaced, “I should probably get back to work now before my manager gets pissed off. If you need water or anything, please don’t hesitate to ask for it.”

And there it was – that smile of hers.

As Elena got up and left, Marion faced Ansel with an incredulous look on her face.

“Ansel. Do you realize what just happened?”

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled in reply, putting his glasses back on. His hands were a little shaky. “I fucked up in front of a pretty barista and the entire staff. Thank God there aren’t so much people or else I’d be digging myself six feet down out of embarrassment–”

“Ansel!”

“What?” he asked exasperatedly. Marion gave him her trademark ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-me’ stare and grabbed at his arm, the male squawking and protesting until she yanked the sleeve of his long-sleeved top up, exposing his forearm.

“That,” she said, in a much calmer and quieter voice, “is what I’m referring to.”

At that moment, Ansel realized that he wasn’t burning so much anymore.

He also realized that his heart outline was filled in with a beautiful carnelian red.

* * * * *

Holy shit, he’s gorgeous. A dorky kind of gorgeous.

Elena had rushed to the staff’s restroom as soon as she left Ansel and his companions, taking her hair out of the messy bun and hastily closing then locking the door.

Back there, she was one hell of a good actress, keeping calm and explaining what had happened while an influx of memories burst into her head, one after another. Her blue eyes met the mirror and she was greeted by the sight of a pale face, eyes wide as they could be while her hands shook slightly. Elena splashed cold water onto her face, shutting her eyes and attempting to collect herself as much as she could.

Elena found herself trapped within memories once more, finding herself seeing through the eyes of a student, judging by the sudden change of surroundings. She was looking at a smaller girl with pink cheeks, who was holding out a folder containing a lot of papers.

“Is this what your friends are reading?” she heard herself ask. The other nodded.

“They seem to like it a lot,” the girl replied. Her face fell. “I don’t know why.” Elena merely stayed silent as the person’s hands opened the folder, skipping immediately to the first page of the whole thing – and she read.

“You wrote this?”

Cheeks turned pinker. “Y-Yes. But it isn’t that good.”

Elena felt herself frown. “But it’s nice.”

The other girl’s eyes widened and Elena looked up, feeling a small smile crawl onto her face and replacing the frown. Her mouth opened and words came out, but it didn’t stop the shock flooding into her subconscious at that very moment.

That girl, Elena thought, I dreamed of her last night.

It’s them again. The two girls who had their first kiss in the restroom. They’re younger – much younger – like they’re in elementary school…

Who are they?

Why are they in my mind a lot?

And Elena felt herself being whisked back to reality, the image of a classroom reverting back into a café’s restroom. Elena suppressed a shiver and shut off the sink, taking out a hand towel from her apron pocket and using it to wipe her face. The brunette proceeded to tie her hair up once more, eyes focused on the mirror as she twisted her hair around and made the perfect bun –

The right sleeve sank back into her shoulder and she huffed, dragging it back.

Elena Jones’ hands flew to her mouth.

It can’t be. I have to be imagining this.

 Blue eyes stared at the mirror, large and a mix of frightened as well as astonished. Fingers shook. She carefully lifted the right sleeve.

And the sight of a filled-in heart greeted her, colored a warm, life-giving shade of green.