In Your Dreams // phan

o n e

I could not wait to meet my soulmate.

It wasn't just the idea that there was someone out there specifically for me. It wasn't the thought that they would love me unconditionally or even that they'd be perfect in every way. It wasn't that they had no choice but to lay their life out for me, show me every bit of their past and I was, of course, willing to overlook the whole thing and focus on our future instead.

It was that they gave my life a purpose. That I had a reason to keep going. I had a reason to get up every day and explore, trying to meet as many people as I could, shaking hands, matching grins, swooping my black fringe out of my eyes in what I hoped was an inviting and possibly alluring gesture, trying to make someone approach me for once. Though it didn't really matter how I met them- as long as I did.

It was a long shot to assume I was going to meet them any time soon. Not many people met their soulmate at such a young age; in fact, as I thought about it, I could only think of two couples. This girl named Louise at my school, who had practically grown up with her soulmate, her neighbor since she was three (and everybody knew it). And my parents.

They were very cute, my parents. They had met at my mum's sweet sixteen, my dad being the busboy that cleared away plates and plates of half-eaten cake at the rich looking restaurant where the party had been thrown. I liked to imagine the way the golden curtains blocked as much of the late-day light as they could when my mum led my dad away, ignoring all the guests and presents and decorations, eager to spend as much time talking to him as she could. And that's what they did for hours; talked about everything they thought of. They had known they were soulmates even before the dreams started.

I think that's the part I'm most excited for. Dreams. Dreams, like movies that play in your head when you slept, showing you the most intimate parts of your partner's mind, things even they couldn't remember until you woke up beside them with a smile, clutching their hand in yours as you told them of the first time they learned to tie their shoes or the first time they held their baby sister in their arms. These are the things I liked to imagine as I drifted off to sleep at night, hoping, praying, as I went through every person that I had met that day like a magazine, that the dreams would start, and I'd see my toothless, pudgy, wide eyed and skinned kneed soulmate.

It was my philosophy to never stay in one place too long. Meet as many people as possible, and move on to the next restaurant or cafe or street corner, my smiles wide and bright as my feet pedaled their way to the next destination, my bike shifting back and forth beneath my body but my mind somewhere else, tangled in the curls of that gorgeous brunette that just served me my coffee, or swimming in the pools of deep aqua-blue of that boy's eyes after he asked my name. I was in a constant state of elation just thinking that my soulmate was maybe right around the corner.

Of course I felt a little dejected when I wake up every morning without so much as a whisper of a dream. But I keep moving, like a shark, I keep pedaling off into the sunset, sweeping my soulmate of their feet, riding my bike like a noble steed, our arms around each other tight.

But I always came back to the library.  The library was my place, not a place for soulmates. (Though, I'll have to admit, I did keep a look out for my special someone.) I always found myself getting lost in the isles and isles of love stories, of universes where people had no idea if the person they loved was the one they were destined to be with, of heartbreak and loss and euphoria about first kisses and dancing. I gulped up the words like they were my only sustenance, like there was nothing else in the world, as days and years passed between pages when mere minutes slugged by in the real world.

People who knew me well didn't understand why I wanted to meet my soulmate so badly. If you didn't know me, you'd think I was just a normal boy looking for the one, one of many, many people who went on worldwide trips to meet the person they could dream about.

But people who knew, the ones with the special intimate knowledge of my life were often confused, especially my mum, who's eyes were becoming steadily darker and lips steadily straighter as the years passed by. I had lost my dad only a few years ago, sending my mum into a spiral, making us pack up everything in our tired old town and move to this shiny new one, which, of course, I couldn't complain about, because Manchester was full of new people, new memories, and, most importantly, new libraries full of new love stories.

It was there that I found myself doodling little hearts on a scrap piece of paper absent mindedly as I scoured the pages of my new novel, unaware of the uncomfortable wooden chair beneath me, the stares from the various librarians at my enormous pile of books stacked next to me, unaware of the dozens of possible soulmates moseying along the aisles, running their hands along the shelved, their lower lips rolled into their mouths and eyebrows knit in concentration as they searched for the perfect book.

No, I didn't even notice him until he bumped straight into my precariously placed pile, knocking all 12 of my to-read books onto my head, startling me from my daze and making me shout in alarm, resulting in a chorus of shushes from the workers restocking the shelves.

He was nothing really special, I thought as I looked up at the intruder, a shade of pink blossoming on his already rosy cheeks. He had brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the edges when he grimaced, jumping to catch the tower a second too late as they cascaded on top of me. His chocolate fringe curled at the ends and stuck to his forehead from the humid whether outside, reminding the world that summer was ending steadily, faster than anyone wanted it to, and I'd have to return for my last year of high school any day now. I'd met everyone at my new school last year, and still no dreams came. I've exhausted everyone there- no soulmates. Now school was boring, useless even, teachers just droning on and on about things that we'd never need later in life, just a waste of time that I could be spending searching.

He closed his eyes tightly for a second, and began to pluck books off of me and the floor, placing them back on the table in a haphazard pile, his breath laboured.

"Sorry." He mumbled. I felt myself smile. Hello, new person I've never seen before with a copy of A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks under your arm and an adorable dimple that appeared on your cheek as you smile at me apologetically.

"No problem. It's actually my fault for stacking that many books like that." He made to leave but I asked him to sit.

And so, I talked to my soulmate for the first time.

Howdy! As you know from both the description and the prologue, it is now I, GypsyRover! My great friend and senpai @phanoutlet was very gracious in allowing me to post this story on my account, but you guys should definitely go check her out, she's such an amazing writer.