Transcendence: A Request Prompt (4/5)

New York City
United States of America
December 2118

Contrary to due belief, getting to know your soul mate after finding out who they were wasn’t all sunshine and romantic moments.

Ansel learned that as he returned to the coffee shop a week after, wearing colder gear in preparation for the December weather. He had managed to find out (through Jae) when Elena would usually get off work – and he had promised the Korean, as well as Marion, that he would get to know the barista a little better.

So there he was, sitting in the same booth as he did the previous week, drinking from his latte patiently, the banoffee pie halfway done. Ansel’s foot tapped on the ground rather impatiently, he glancing at his watch every couple of minutes, waiting until the short hand struck four.

And when it did, he heard her voice ring out.

“I’m off, Luke. Should I overtime tomorrow?”

A mumble came from the barista’s corner and he heard her laugh. Ansel felt warmth fill him up all of the sudden; it seemed like it had gotten too warm all of a sudden. So he attempted to alleviate himself by stuffing a forkful of banoffee pie into his mouth, not realizing that she had just stopped and stared at him.

Ansel, eating his pie awkwardly, kept his gaze on the table until she cleared her throat.

“Retel?”

He nearly choked on his food, taking a swig of coffee to push it down. Elena merely kept staring, face blank, and Ansel felt the blood rush to his face as it did a week prior. “E-Elena,” he managed. Ansel looked up and saw her standing there, her wavy hair down this time.

It was the first time that he had seen her properly, not counting when he had nearly passed out in front of her.

And all he could think was wow.

Elena was definitely shorter than him by a few inches. She had a soft kind of figure, not too thin but definitely not on the large side either. She was curvy – and he could see how her current attire hugged her figure. Her hair, a shade that reminded him of chocolate, fell in waves and reached the middle of her back.

But what really caught his attention were her eyes – a beautiful shade of blue.

“Elena Jones. Hi,” he greeted, trying his best to not sound so awkward in front of the lady looking at him. “I’m glad you remember me.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “You don’t exactly forget the name of the person who nearly fainted in front of you,” she admitted. He reddened more. “Just teasing. You nearly done?” Ansel cocked a brow at her sudden boldness; the barista coughed and immediately glanced away. “I was just asking.”

“I don’t go out with people who don’t know my full name,” he said cryptically. She stared at him until she realized that Ansel Altair wasn’t his full name – not at all.

“It isn’t Ansel Altair?”

“It’s Ansel Altair Free.”

And there it was – that wicked, wicked grin.

“Your name’s so fucking ridiculous. But I like it.”

* * * * *

A getting-to-know-you session with coffee and dessert spiraled into something more in the next couple of weeks. Over the hour-long talk they had, both of them had found out more about the other…and neither of them had brought up the mark on their arms.

Ansel was currently working at a film company as a camera assistant as well as a capture artist when he wasn’t too focused on the camera. He had been working there for half a year, previously scouting around the big city and doing freelance work until he was picked up. Elena was surprised upon learning all of this, remarking that he had more of an academic look in him. He had grinned sheepishly, admitting that he had originally intended to veer more into English before he heard his ‘calling’ for film production.

On another hand, Elena was part-timing as a barista at Starbucks while actively working at an up and coming magazine as a layout artist. Gifted not only in the technological arts, she also spent time working on the traditional art. She had told him that her own apartment was frequently strewn with papers, watercolor and sketchpads while pencils and ball pens filled her cabinets. When he asked why she was part-timing, she admitted that she needed the extra cash to get a newer laptop as well as better art supplies such as an actual canvas and better paint.

 At the end of it, Elena realized that she had to work on some layout, jumping up and scribbling something on a spare receipt before giving it to him. As the girl sped off after bidding him goodbye, he took a close look at the paper – managing to make sense of the hurried handwriting – and found a jumble of numbers in red ink.

Ansel sent her a text the next morning.

            Ansel Free: Good morning, Elena. Are you busy today?

            Elena Jones: And what makes you think I’ll spend my day off with you, Retel?

            Elena Jones: Kidding. Lunch sound good?

            Ansel Free: Bully. Meet me at Cremithos, around twelve-thirty?

            Elena Jones: *thumbs up emoji*

The more the twosome met, the more they ended up connecting with each other in ways they didn’t know were possible. Of course, there were some quirks they had to sort out – Elena adored pets while Ansel was awkward around them; Ansel was passionate about social justice while Elena was more into pop culture – but they managed.

And the more they managed, the more they continued to build something beautiful.

It was at the end of yet another ‘date’ when Ansel had gotten home, locking his apartment door and unbuttoning the buttons to his top, pulling the long-sleeved piece away with ease. He had passed by the hallway mirror, quickly glancing at himself.

Ansel’s eyes caught something on his form. He staggered back, inspecting himself closely with his eyebrows narrowing.

And then he saw it.

Two letters, a little faded, right over his heart.

EMJ.

* * * * *

Months passed.

Ansel and Elena continued to see each other more often; the former would usually spend his breaks in Starbucks while the latter was on shift. On other days, Elena would invite Ansel out for lunch and the two would bond over food and ridiculously-sweet iced tea, both of them leaving feeling contentedness.

But neither of them could ignore the heart forever. So on a fairly-warm June morning, the pair found themselves sitting in the park. For once, it wasn’t filled to the brim with people who wished to picnic. Elena was fiddling with the stray thread on her shirt while Ansel wiped at his glasses’ lens, both feeling the tension that filled the air.

Awkwardness.

“You wanted to talk to me, Ansel?” Elena finally broke. Ansel nodded. He sat against a tree, Elena sitting right next to him – not too close yet not too far. “About what?”

“Just some curiosity,” he finally said. “You know the Outline Phenomena, right?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “…is yours filled in?”

It took her a moment to answer. Elena glanced away from him. “Green.”

“Green?”

“Yeah. That’s the color.” Biting her lip, she added much after, “Yours?”

“Red.” Elena blinked, “Carnelian red.”

That can’t be right. It can’t be that shade of red.

“…do you mind if I check it out?”

“My outline?” Elena gave a nod and Ansel hesitated slightly before rolling up the sleeve, shifting to show Elena the heart-shaped figure on his forearm. Elena’s trembling fingers touched it lightly and she gave a soft gasp, Ansel trying to figure out what the other was thinking. “Elena? Elena, what are you–”

“Fucking Carnelian red,” she interrupted, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. “Ansel.”

“…yes?”

“Did you know that Carnelian red is my favorite color?”

* * * * *

Things fell into place after that.

Ansel had looked at Elena’s mark after that, the green color giving him all kinds of emotions – happiness, shock – and he managed to tell her that the color which filled her mark had been his color for majority of his life.

In his shock, he had beckoned her and unbuttoned the three buttons of his polo – Elena nearly slapped him until he hissed at her to pay attention – and showed the letters over his heart.

“Elena M. Jones,” he said simply.

“That can’t be–”

“You have my color and I have yours. I have your initials over my heart, darker than the day I first saw them – what more proof do you need, Elena?” he demanded, buttoning his shirt back up. Elena gaped and attempted to say something more, the look in her eyes disbelieving.

“What did you feel when the heart colored in?”

“Pardon?”

“Did you nearly pass out because of a burning feeling?” she asked quietly. Ansel fell silent. “Did you remember things when we first touched? Have you been dreaming of different couples prior to our meeting?”

“Yes. Yes. And…yes.”

“That’s enough for me. We’re soul mates.”

Allegedly, confirming that indeed, you had a soul mate was supposed to feel amazing.

But at that moment, it felt all kinds of awkward rolled into one.

Where are the sparks? Where are the goddamn fireworks?

“…I expected the revelation to be more climactic than this,” Ansel soon admitted, breaking the silence between them. “A little more romantic.”

Elena gave a snort. “Romantic?”

“I mean, soul mates are a romantic concept.”

“Do you want a brazen love confession?”

Ansel’s cheeks flamed. “No – wait not in that way – I mean – it’s too early for that,” he fumbled over his words, not quite seeing the smirk on Elena’s face. The lady hummed.

“If you’re up for this, then we have all the time in the world.”

His eyes met hers.

“Who said I wasn’t?”