Please, Don't Let Go

I promised you, didn't I?

Emma nodded solemnly after hearing all the scenarios that played out over those four years. "I think I know what all this, the dreams and being the only one to see and hear each other."

"Really? What is it?" I asked excitedly.

'Finally, I'll know what all these years mean.'

Emma drank her cup of tea sloooooowly.

'Could she be any more suspenseful????'

(Please no.)

She set her cup down (finally!) and smirked knowingly. "You've met your soulmate," she singsonged.

"What?" I blanked.

"You met your soulmate," she repeated.

"So it's not just a story???"

"No, but most people don't know it."

"Why not? Shouldn't this be some kind of breakthrough?" I was confused.

"Well, there is a story behind why it isn't. It's kind of long though."

"We don't have anything happening soon so go ahead."

"Well," Emma tapped her chin. "The doctor, I think Fletcher was his name, who found out about this soulmate thing was classified as crazy because his colleagues had never had those dream meetings. They admitted Fletcher into an asylum to 'cure' him." Emma rolled her eyes. "People protested, saying that what Fletcher said was true. But his colleagues were totally snobby⁠—" she turned up her nose, acting like she was a snobby gal— "and said that it mustn't be true since it wasn't scientifically possible and how they should know because they were psychologists or something.

"Anyway, like a decade later, some of Fletcher's younger colleagues started having dream meetings and they found out what Fletcher said was true. The psychologists went to the asylum Fletcher was in to apologise but Fletcher's doctor told them that Fletcher had killed himself last week. Basically, his colleagues didn't want to be blamed for that so they never spread out the soulmate story." Emma shrugged as she finished the story.

"Wow, that is sad."

'Poor Fletcher,' I thought sympathetically. "But...how did you find out then?"

"Neighbour. He really liked knowing such obscure things." Emma winked then laughed.

"....Will me and Darius meet?"

"Yup," she popped the 'P'. "The meeting range is unofficial though. But Fletcher said it could range from one week to one year."

"Great," I sighed.

* * * * *

The leaves crunch beneath my and Emma's feet as I thought back to that day. It's been two months since then and missing him became more painful.

I tried to sigh lowly but Emma still heard it.

"Don't worry, Dhar. He'll show up soon. I can feel it," she assures, patting me on the back.

"Easy for you to say. You already met your soulmate," I complain, as Emma pulls open the door to the flower shop where her soulmate works.

The flower shop's name ('Busy Bee') really lives up to its name. The shop was full of flowers.

'Must be a slow day.' There were only a few people in the shop though I wouldn't blame business. Not many people think of buying flowers at 10 in the morning anyway.

"Hello and welcome to Busy Bee!" a dark-haired guy called out to us. Emma made a beeline to the guy who I assume is her soulmate.

I chuckle at my own pun while I follow Emma to the counter.

"I saved a rose for you, honey," the guy said as he handed her a beautiful red rose.

'This guy makes puns too!'

"Thank you," Emma giggles as she accepts it.

'Okay, back up, they're staring at each other lovingly.'

I stand awkwardly to the side before I smell a familiar, delicious scent. I stare at the six-petalled flower, trying o figure out why Darius smelled like this particular flower the last time we met.

'Does it have a hidden meaning?'

"Excuse me," I butted in their conversation, making them both look up. "Does this flower have a meaning?" I ask, pointing to the purple bouquet.

The guy, whose name tag says 'Noah', glances at the bouquet before brightening up. "That's an ambrosia," he explains, "It means 'Your love is reciprocated'." Noah smiles, satisfied at his explanation, before he and Emma resume their conversation

I fiddle with the promise ring on my finger.

'No way. That can't be a coincidence.'

I back away in confusion and nearly trip over a pot. Luckily, a customer caught my hand and pulled me up.

"Oh, uh, thank you, sir." I hang my head, embarrassed.

"Um, sir?" This guy still hasn't let go of my hand. More specifically, he was lightly brushing my ring.

'Oh my God, is he gonna steal it???'

Before I can yank my hand away, Nice-But-Possible-Thief grabs my arm.

"Dhara?" he asks.

My breath hitches. And I finally look up at him.

He looks as shocked as I feel.

Darius. He's here. Physical and tanned and freckled and brown-eyed Darius.

'He's here. He's here. HE'S HERE.'

He's the first to break out of his shock and holds my hand tighter. 

He smiles, an almost impossibly wide smile and tells me, "I knew there was a reason why I was drawn to this florist shop. I knew I'd find you eventually."

"You were looking for me? Why?"

"I promised you, didn't I? That I'll still see you even after the dreams stop."

He leans forward and presses a kiss onto my forehead. "'Direct kiss," he whispers, his lips not leaving my forehead.

I can feel myself blushing. 

Despite myself, I tilt my head up slightly and press a soft kiss onto his lips.

"Definitely a direct kiss," he grins cheekily.