《Soul Searching》 Day 15 254 days. I have 254 days left to find my soulmate because I¡¯ve already wasted the last two weeks asking strangers how the hell I¡¯m supposed to do that. ?No one leaves this place without finding a soulmate, and not leaving this place is not an option. Staying here means never being born, and never being born means not existing. ?No one wants to not exist. ?Or at least, I want to exist. ?¡°We¡¯re in the mess hall, B.¡± Niel pushes one of the trays across the table, nearly spilling soup all over my drawing, painting the black-and-white sketch as dark as his hair. ?I could still salvage this if it was paint. ?¡°Great! You ruined it.¡± ?¡°It¡¯s a placemat, not a sketchpad!¡± He grabs a paper towel from the holder between us anyway, trying to keep the liquid from reaching my dream boy¡¯s face. ?Niel was blessed. He found his soulmate the day after he arrived. It wasn¡¯t hard for him either ¨C with the girl¡¯s name tattooed on his wrist, it sure was convenient she¡¯s a writer ¨C and it was as easy to confirm considering she used to be deaf before he spoke to her. ?¡°Don¡¯t worry too much,¡± Jo reassures me as she sets down glasses of juice on the table for the three of us. ¡°Maybe he hasn¡¯t arrived yet.¡± ?¡°Or maybe I arrived late, and he already gave up searching.¡± ?¡°Bea.¡± Jo takes her seat beside Niel and reaches out to hold my hand. ?¡°His birthday could be tomorrow!¡± ?Niel shakes his head and gives me an eye roll. ?¡°No, what if it is? How does that even work? Wouldn¡¯t it be unfair if I¡¯m still here, and he¡¯s gone? I don¡¯t want to fade into nothingness!¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ?¡°Careful,¡± Niel warns, calling out my gestures again. ¡°You¡¯ll hurt someone with that pencil.¡± ?I put it back into my jacket pocket, fitting it snugly into the roll of my favorite portrait. Too bad I never saw that guy again. He¡¯s probably taken already, and maybe even born now. ?Then again, the chances of meeting someone more than once in a sea of a hundred million people and counting is fatter than blue whales, so maybe he¡¯s still out there. ¡°That¡¯s never happened before. Don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°?Oh, she¡¯s hit someone earlier, Jo.¡± Jo rolls her hazel eyes at Niel. ¡°I meant ¡®fading into nothingness.¡¯ Believe it or not, some found theirs on their last day. There¡¯s a lot of journals about it in the library.¡± ?¡°Not helpful.¡± I shove the slice of bread into my mouth lest I say anything more to my good neighbors. ?¡°Do you have plans after dinner?¡± Jo asks. ?¡°Stupid question.¡± ? ¡°I told you, Jo. She¡¯ll be resto hopping, then go home by 22 o¡¯clock.¡± As one of the lucky ones, my friend here has the freedom to spend hours at home doing nothing or talking about anything and everything with his soulmate, and the luxury to mind a new neighbor¡¯s daily routine. Now, he knows I leave before the sun rises the same way I know he sings Jo to sleep soon after the sun sets. ?¡°I¡¯m thinking of making that 23 for a change,¡± I tell them. ?Jo informs me, ¡°I¡¯m thinking of bringing you to the theatre for a change.¡± ?I shake my head. ?¡°B, you can¡¯t live here.¡± ?¡°I¡¯m not, Niel! My stuff is still in the unit next to yours. And ¨C¡± ?¡°Everyone eats.¡± They both say the same time I do. ?¡°But a clock a millisecond off would always be wrong,¡± Jo tells me, then takes a sip of her orange juice. ?¡°Are you sure I¡¯m a millisecond off, poet?¡± ?¡°No, but you could be in the wrong place talking to the wrong person all the time. He might be doing the same thing.¡± ?¡°I¡¯ll switch up the restaurants then.¡± ?¡°Don¡¯t you get sick of watching people on a date every day?¡± That earns Niel a nudge from Jo. ?I scoff. ¡°Like you¡¯re not asking me to be a third wheel on your date, Jo.¡± ?¡°It¡¯s not a date! We¡¯ll just hang out, and you can meet new people ¨C¡± ?¡°¡ª who are all bound to head over to one diner or another.¡± ?¡°You can choose which one of us you¡¯d rather go with if it makes you more comfortable.¡± Jo offers. ¡°I just hate seeing you throw yourself at random guys every single day. You haven¡¯t even seen the world.¡± ?¡°Oh, Ramon gave me a tour just fine.¡± It was not fine. We went circles around the colossal, iridescent temple, then we had to run inside when we weren¡¯t supposed to because of that stupid hurricane. I hated it. Still do. ?¡°Just this once, B.¡± Niel backs his girl. ¡°Then you can live out on the streets for all we care.¡± ?It¡¯s a lie. I can see it on Jo¡¯s face. She just can''t not care about anyone. She even worries about animals not having soulmates. ?¡°Fine.¡± I finish the last of my soup straight from the bowl so I don¡¯t see their annoying grins of victory. ¡°Just this once.¡± Play The description at the doorway made it sound like some narrative orientation about finding soulmates, but the performance was infinitely beyond that. I don¡¯t remember seeing a play before ¡ª not even in my past life, as the show implied we all had ¡ª but this is nothing like the gigs in restaurants or the spoken slam whatever in those loud caf¨¦s. These singers moved as they sang with and to each other. These actors danced or wept or fell to the ground while sustaining a note, and I doubt any character suffered as much as the second lead. ¡°¡­ I don¡¯t know how to be okay with that,¡± she ends her song to the lead. ¡°Then don¡¯t be,¡± he replies coolly, then walks away. She watches him leave as the piano quiets down. Her tears fall as soon as he¡¯s gone, and the scene changes from a purple sunset to a blue night. And it doesn¡¯t fit, doesn¡¯t make sense to me that blue represents sadness. Clearly, it¡¯s pink ¡ª the pink of her puffy eyes, her sclera, her flushed cheeks, her pale lips. ??"Here,¡± Jo whispers as she hands me a tissue. ¡°You brought me out here to cry?¡± ¡°At least your first tears here aren¡¯t caused by your own pain.¡± The same can¡¯t be said for the time we¡¯re born though. Ramon did mention that our first cry as humans on Earth will be out of pain, but he never said it was out of the grief of leaving this paradise, fear of being alone, and yearning for the half of our soul we¡¯ve been separated from. Again. I hate the play for making me believe that. ~ The crowd flows out of the auditorium in pairs. There must be an odd number of chairs because I¡¯m the only one who went through the exit alone. ?¡°This was a waste of time,¡± I tell Niel, but he doesn¡¯t seem to hear me over the exit music. Navigating through a swarm of people, even one trying to organize themselves, takes some effort, so we link arms without saying a word and go with the flow, ending up at a bar in the same building as the theatre. The place is cramped, but that¡¯s probably because the actors are here too. The lead actor seems to be enjoying the growing circle around his table, performing a chain of card tricks with his leading lady. ¡°You can get closer,¡± Jo suggests. ¡°Tell them you liked the play.¡± ¡°Everyone left in pairs. He wasn¡¯t there.¡± ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Jo throws her head back in frustration, and Niel throws me a look from behind her as he signals the bartender. She¡¯s ready to scold me, to go on about the fact that that was not why she brought me here, but I don¡¯t give her the chance. ¡°And you would¡¯ve made a better script, but the songs were good.¡± She smiles, pleased. ¡°Good is an understatement, but yes, I would¡¯ve changed the spoken lines a bit.¡± ¡°She edited mine.¡± ¡°Paula!¡± Jo bounces up, then freezes. The actress looks prettier up close, even with her hair undone and lipstick partially gone. ¡°You know I won¡¯t stop you from hugging me.¡± With all the physical contact she had on stage, especially with the lead, I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be the type to mind. It¡¯s odd seeing the actors separated. They look good together. Jo unfreezes herself and squeezes the shorter brunette. ¡°I know you¡¯ll forget,¡± Paula speaks as she hugs the writer back, ¡°but do try to remember that I love you, Jo.¡± ¡°Aww, I hope we get to work together on Earth,¡± Jo replies as she pulls away, and takes a good look at Paula¡¯s dark brown eyes. ¡°You better meet me before Niel though, or he might make you his bandmate before I can give you a role.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I¡¯ll steer clear of all Daniels before I meet a Johari then.¡± ¡°Jo, it¡¯s our song!¡± Niel exclaims at the sound of a beat starting a new song and grabs his girl¡¯s hand to pull her to the shrinking dance floor. ¡°Thank God.¡± Paula exhales as she takes Jo¡¯s seat. She signals the bartender, holding three fingers up and drawing an invisible circle with it near her cheek. ¡°I¡¯ve exceeded my quota for physical contact today.¡± ¡°You did well.¡± It¡¯s the first thing that comes out of my mouth. If it was one of the guys I¡¯ve drawn, I¡¯m sure I would¡¯ve thought of a better response to what she was saying. ¡°Thanks.¡± I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s thanking me for the compliment, or the bartender for her wine. She¡¯s not as big on eye contact as she was on stage. ¡°So, is your soulmate a co-actor?¡± Okay. In my defense, the play was about finding soulmates ¡ª the challenge and the importance of it even. What else am I supposed to ask to start a conversation? She doesn¡¯t say anything; just shakes her head. ¡°You mean ¡­ you don¡¯t know what his passion is, or ¡­?¡± ¡°I know nothing about my soulmate.¡± ¡°B-but how long have you been here?¡± ¡°Uhh, two hundred and two days, I think?¡± Good God. She has at least three weeks left ¡ª nine if she¡¯s lucky ¡ª but she doesn¡¯t seem to care. She might not be born at all. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried?¡± ¡°About what?¡± ¡°Girl?! Your play was literally about finding soulmates. Aren¡¯t you afraid you won¡¯t exist?¡± ¡°Says who?¡± Her confidence? Astounding. I bet she has a clock counting down to the exact time she¡¯ll meet her man, and she¡¯s just waiting patiently. I¡¯ve met a few of those ¨C guys who rejected me faster than a fleeing ghost crab with utmost faith in their pendants and watches. Except she has nothing on her wrist or around her neck. ¡°I already exist.¡± ¡°What if you¡¯re not born?¡± ¡°Honestly?¡± Paula twists her entire body to face me, leaning one arm on the bar. ¡°I don¡¯t care. I love it here. I love performing, and if two hundred and something days of doing it is all the life I have, so be it.¡± ¡°That means you don¡¯t get to take the test on Earth.¡± ¡°Or fate messes up and lets me take the test alone.¡± ¡°Like that¡¯s even possible.¡± ¡°It¡¯s probably not,¡± she shrugs, ¡°but it¡¯s fine.¡± Fine? Fine?! Being obliterated into smaller than the smallest of dust is not fine. She¡¯s kidding. She has to be. Her soulmate might be at the opposite end of this world. Attachment to her guild is enough reason to anchor her here, in the southeast. Being too lazy to move to someplace so far is as valid a reason as any. I¡¯ve met a few guys who did the same. ¡°When did you give up?¡± I ask, only to humor her in the hopes of finding out why she¡¯d lie. I finish half of my previously untouched beer before she finds an answer on the ceiling. ¡°It¡¯s been weeks, but now that you mention it, I¡¯m officially giving up today.¡± What?! She chuckles. You should see the look on your face. ? Flustered, I shut my mouth, only for a question to make its way out my lips a second after. ¡°Aren¡¯t you being unfair to your soulmate?¡± ¡°Do you even know what a soulmate is?¡± ¡°¡®Half of the soul you once had in your past life.¡¯¡± ¡°That¡¯s Dre¡¯s line.¡± Paula finally looks at me, half a smile on her face. ¡°I take it you¡¯re looking for yours right now.¡± ¡°Well, duh! What kind of lunatic wouldn¡¯t?¡± She chuckles at that. ¡°So you¡¯re new.¡± ¡°What happened to not giving up on the love of your life?¡± That¡¯s what her character was all about. I can¡¯t believe the actress¡¯s views ¡ª or anyone¡¯s, really ¡ª could be the complete opposite. She lifts her glass slightly and swirls the red liquid. ¡°Everyone¡¯s first question is ¡®How do I find my soulmate? Where do I look? When do we meet? How do I know? What if we never meet?¡¯¡± She pauses, setting her glass down. ¡°That was a lot of questions. The point is, no one asks why we lost them in the first place.¡± I feel attacked. So much so that I realize too late I had already emptied Jo¡¯s bottle. ¡°What are you saying?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t take my word for it or fate might decide I really shouldn¡¯t exist, but what kind of deity would mold creatures in their likeness only to cleave them in half? Or what if we lost them because we don¡¯t need them after all?¡± ¡°No one leaves this place without a soulmate.¡± Jo said so herself. ¡°Maybe no one does because they¡¯re too afraid to.¡± Paula counters coolly. ¡°Okay. I am not hearing ¡ª¡± ¡°Hey, come dance with us!¡± Jo calls out as the couple trips towards us. Paula shakes her head immediately, and Niel looks at me with a pleading pout. ¡°Go,¡± Paula tells me, pointing out Jo¡¯s folded hands with a nod. It¡¯s unfair she gets a pass from putting up with Jo¡¯s uncharacteristic arm-twisting. She¡¯s the actress; she¡¯s obligated to mingle with supporters and was even previously under the tall brunette¡¯s wing if I¡¯m not reading their interactions wrong. ¡°You¡¯ll regret it if you don¡¯t.¡± So I go. And I immediately regret letting my butt leave my seat. ¡°Why are you looking at me like that?¡± Jo asks as she pulls me to the dance floor. I realize I¡¯ve never danced with anyone before. All I¡¯ve ever done was talk to people, sometimes eat or walk with them, but nothing else. ¡°Your friend is weird.¡± ¡°Oh, I know. I¡¯ve never seen anyone obsess over their soulmates as you have.¡± Being the taller one, she places my hands on her shoulders with a playful smile. It feels good, dancing. It would¡¯ve been better if we were on a double date, but this will do. For now. ¡°Niel is definitely rubbing off on you.¡± ¡°Please. You¡¯ve only known me for like a dozen days.¡± And the entire time, she was like an older sister to me. I don¡¯t check on her as much as she checks on me, but I never thought she¡¯d be friends with someone like Paula. Jo encourages me to find my soulmate as much as she reminds me to take a break. ¡°Does she always talk with finality?¡± Her eyes narrow in confusion. ¡°Paula? She¡¯s too indecisive for that. She¡¯s pretty good at acting though.¡± I agree. She looks more like a resolute woman than an aimless soul. Shame she¡¯s not spending her remaining days with purpose. Pause I stumble on the streets, trying to stay under the canopy with the lovebirds. Why do those dumb clouds decide to pour at the worst possible time? Every damn time. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have talked to the actor ¡ª Herbert, I heard others call him, not Dre ¡ª and stayed with the couple instead. Niel loves Jo too much to try and stop her from downing shot after shot in my absence. I get his point though ¡ª there aren¡¯t a lot of rules here, and no amount of toxic substances would harm our bodies. Might as well make the most of it. I didn¡¯t get to make the most of it. Sure, it wasn¡¯t entirely pointless ¡ª some of the couples knew searching souls like me, and Herbert¡¯s network is wider than mine ¡ª but I could¡¯ve talked to more. If Jo hadn¡¯t forced me to dance, I could¡¯ve asked Paula if she knew anyone who might be my soulmate. If she gave up, then that means she tried first. She must¡¯ve met a lot of people and gone through a lot of rejection for her to see things the way she does now. It¡¯s past the 23rd hour on the clock when we arrive at our floor, and exactly half an hour before tomorrow when we reach Niel¡¯s apartment. ¡°Thanks, B.¡± Niel huffs as soon as we lay Jo on the bed. ¡°Good night.¡± ¡°Good night.¡± He heads straight for the bathroom, and I lead myself out of their place and into the hallway in time to see a girl in an emerald dress and a gold belt climbing up the stairs alone. I¡¯ve never seen her around here before, but then again, I¡¯ve never stayed out this late. ¡°Not making a lot of friends with that mentality, I see.¡± ¡°And how many have you made?¡± She replies without looking down. ¡°More than you.¡± Folly, I know, but I can¡¯t take back what I said. It is what I see after all. Why else would an actress walk home alone without an escort? Even couples walk with newcomers so they don¡¯t feel alone. It¡¯s basic etiquette. She doesn¡¯t respond. She just glances at me, and I somehow feel her waiting for an actual answer. ¡°Two.¡± She probably won¡¯t hear it over my footsteps rushing up the steps anyway. ¡°Three,¡± Paula says when I catch up. That doesn¡¯t seem right. I mean, really ¨C more than two hundred days, and she¡¯s only made three friends? Impossible. It sounds more like a correction. ¡°Just because you¡¯re an actress, doesn¡¯t mean everyone wants to be friends with you.¡± Paula stops at the next landing and turns to face me. ¡°Bold of you to assume that¡¯s what I meant.¡± She takes a step back down, and heat rises in my cheeks. Embarrassment? Or maybe celebrities just have that effect. I don¡¯t know. But does she even count as one? Probably not if she only has three friends. ¡°I appreciate you walking with me though. Can I walk you home?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± Friendly or not, connections are connections. Her co-actors and whoever else might help me find my soulmate. Better yet, she might have already met him back when she was still searching. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°So, um,¡± I take a step back, ¡°why did you give up on ¡ª?¡± ?Damn it! We could¡¯ve taken the elevator. She pauses next to me so we¡¯re on the same step, and mumbles something about being grateful to the inventor of railings. Sure, I wouldn''t have died if I fell, and any broken bones would heal overnight, but I¡¯m nowhere near interested in knowing how that feels. ¡°I already told you,¡± she answers as we continue our descent. ¡°I just don¡¯t care anymore.¡± ¡°If the world goes off balance because you two vanish, I¡¯ll tell the world you¡¯re to blame.¡± ¡°Nice to know I¡¯ll be remembered, but by then, you¡¯d be blaming people who don¡¯t exist.¡± Good point. And if they don¡¯t exist, there¡¯s technically no one to blame. They would be nothing. Gone. Erased. Forgotten. ¡°Can I come in?¡± Paula pulls me away from my thoughts, and I realize I¡¯ve already entered the living room and taken off my jacket with the door still open. It¡¯s getting late, is what I mean to tell her, but my voice box rejects that input, and for whatever reason, forwards it to my feet, which somehow processes it as a signal to give way. She scans the room before she enters, as if wary of hidden cameras or booby traps. In the next moment, she has her eyes locked on the gallery. ¡°You sure this is a guy you¡¯re going to marry?¡± She sounds indifferent, but it looks like she¡¯s scrutinizing my favorite work ¡ª well, second to the one in my pocket. ¡°That one¡¯s taken.¡± If he wasn¡¯t, that sketch would still be in my pocket. ¡°Siblings can be soulmates, you know.¡± First off, just no. No. Second? ¡°Um, isn¡¯t there supposed to be a gap?¡± ¡°Never heard of twins?¡± Paula says as she moves on to the next item of interest. Well, that was stupid. With her eyes trained on the guitar at the corner, she asks, ¡°Do you play?¡± ¡°Games, not instruments.¡± ¡°So,¡± she picks up a racket leaning on the wall adjacent to the instrument, ¡°you play?¡± ¡°Yeah, I think I can.¡± She nods in acknowledgment. ¡°Yuu and Aya ¡ª they¡¯re twins. Yuu used to be paralyzed, and Aya ¡ª well, good thing this isn¡¯t Earth yet because it would¡¯ve been pretty hard to redeem herself. Mitch had to drag her to Yuu.¡± I¡¯ve never heard of such a case before ¡ª both siblings and paralysis ¡ª but I¡¯ve heard of Mitch, the DJ who always ate blueberry pancakes for breakfast in the west, and played Chloe¡¯s songs on repeat during downtime across that restaurant. ¡°What were their passions?¡± ¡°Leadership and dancing.¡± ¡°What the ¡ª¡± Mitch and Chloe¡¯s were both music, and they had a hard time finding each other for over two dozen days, but this? ¡°Yeah.¡± Paula saves her ears from a curse. ¡°So do you have any, um, disabilities? I shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°Are you tone deaf?¡± She takes a coin out of her pocket and rolls it across her fingers as she scans all four walls and corners again. ¡°No? I mean, I can tell if someone¡¯s off-key.¡± ¡°Colorblind?¡± ¡°Do you not see the amount of paint that I have?¡± ¡°You can have all the colors and still see them wrong.¡± Her reply is swift as if compensating for how slowly I had enunciated my question. ¡°And I¡¯m guessing no tattoos and timers.¡± The coin stops on its side between her ring and pinky fingers. ¡°Yeah,¡± I reply with a sigh. Those would have made this all easier. ¡°So. Your person would know how to play the guitar.¡± My person? My person. God, that sounds nice. ¡°You think so?¡± ¡°What did you think all this stuff is for?¡± Paula¡¯s question counters my excitement as she gestures at the guitar, the untouched ointments, and the dusty books. She walks back to the door as if retreating in defeat, or maybe guilt upon realizing how harsh she sounded. I¡¯d say Niel, first aid, and Jo, but maybe not. ?¡°I only know one though.¡± Was that disappointment ¡­ or regret? ¡°What ¡ª Niel?¡± Ridiculous. ¡°What? No.¡± The way she opens the door makes it seem like she¡¯s more bothered than I am by the absurdity. ¡°He¡¯s a bassist.¡± Oh, right. Jo always pointed out the difference, but I never paid attention. Guess I should¡¯ve. ¡°Thanks for letting me in,¡± Paula faces me and dips her head as she quietly swings the door close, ¡°and for seeing the show.¡± ¡°Wait! You haven¡¯t ¡ª¡± ¡ª told me his name. ?By the time I¡¯ve completely reopened the door and gone out the hallway, the elevator doors are already closing. I never thought I¡¯d be betrayed by the location of my own unit. The distance from my door to the elevator lounge has always my ally; I¡¯ve never seen it work so conveniently for someone else. ?Well, that was helpful. Stop Feeling lost, Bea closed the bedroom door and walked to an empty bed for the first time in forever. She stared at the empty balcony, below which was a crowd singing farewell to the six masked angels marching through. Their bond would be severed in a few minutes. She couldn¡¯t let that happen. The curtains made way as Bea flew through the open window out of their room and into the night sky. The gate to Palaestra was miles away, but speed was her thing. What good was an angel that can¡¯t deliver God¡¯s word immediately? If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. She glided past the towers and through the gates, racing against the chosen ones. Don¡¯t go, Bea pleaded quietly in case her partner could still hear her voice. You know you don¡¯t have to go. But the six did not stop. Instead, their leader signaled them to go faster. By the time Bea reached the entrance to Palaestra, guardians were already locking the gates. Day 16 The kettle finally whistles, and I let it stay on the stove a while longer to wake the couple. I¡¯ve already trespassed into their kitchen the way they invaded mine. It is an unspoken rule: the first to wake makes coffee for everyone. As always, the kettle works its magic, and I hear the bedroom knob turn and the door swing open. ¡°About time, love¡ª¡± ¡ªbirds. Niel carries a 40-by-20 canvas. I recognize it. It used to be mine. He turns to the living room with a grim look in his eyes, lips downturned in a way they never were. He props it up on the console table, making sure that the first thing anyone sees upon entering their apartment is a finger painting of two parrots. I remember painting the background, feeling bad when Jo first stained it with a horrid shade of orange and gave up the canvas and acrylic set after watching them have too much fun with it. I remember framing it with Niel and sticking two pictures to the back ¡ª a realistically colored drawing of Jo leaning sideways on Niel¡¯s back as he plays his instrument, and an imagined photo of us in the library. I remember them loving it, and loving them for it. ?¡°Niel?¡± ¡°Today¡¯s her birthday.¡± I don¡¯t know what today is. No one does. I just know it¡¯s my 16th day, and that it¡¯s been 15 days since we met. ?I don¡¯t know what to say. ?¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t wish her to be born because I do. It doesn¡¯t feel right, but I mean it. I am sorry, and she¡¯s not here to hear it. ?I never went with her to the library, to the park, to the pub. I only read her poems because they were short reads. I acted as if I hated it whenever she asked Niel to sing us a song. I was an ass while she spent half of her remaining time helping me find my soulmate instead of having the time of her not-life. ?I¡¯m sorry, Jo. ?I can¡¯t find the right words to say to her soulmate. I¡¯ve never witnessed someone lose their half, and I¡¯ve never lost a friend. A hug is all I can think to offer Niel. He accepts it, but the embrace offers no solace. The silence ¡ª the absence of Jo¡¯s mock jealousy, Jo¡¯s footsteps running towards us, Jo¡¯s laughter as we fall onto the sofa ¡ª offers no peace. We both feel another pair of arms missing, and I¡¯m sure it hurts him more than me. I never thought the sound of breaking hearts would be so quiet. ?Niel pulls away and takes a deep breath, tears ready to fall. ?It¡¯s okay, I want to tell him. She¡¯s on Earth now. She¡¯ll be waiting for you. ?¡°Jo doesn¡¯t even know us anymore!¡± Niel snaps. ¡°Did I say that out loud?¡± His breathing quickens. Tears paint faint lines on golden cheeks. ¡°Please, just go. I jus¡ª I need to be alone right now.¡± So do I. ~ This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I couldn¡¯t leave him alone. So I didn¡¯t. ?Or at least, I like to think I didn¡¯t. I heard him sobbing through the door when I left the room. I felt him crying behind the walls. If there¡¯s a way I could make him feel that he¡¯s not alone the way Jo did with every new neighbor in the wing, I¡¯d find it. But I¡¯m not Jo; all I can do is be as alone as he is. I want to weep with him, but my eyes argue it''s not right to shed sad tears on what is supposed to be a happy day. Now, I¡¯m at the lounge where Jo and I first met, on the same couch we used to share while waiting for Niel to finish up in their room. I may have dozed off, and I still might, but I''m not leaving. I¡¯m here for him, and I will stay here until he decides he no longer wants to be alone. That¡¯s what I tell myself. My soulmate would think it was nice of me, wouldn¡¯t he? But a part of me still waits for Jo to walk out of the door to tell me to go to bed like it¡¯s dusk instead of dawn. In fact, the first thing I looked for after the first time I nodded off was a red-striped blanket. A part of me still hopes she¡¯s in their bedroom, looking for a tribal sheet to offer, or using it for herself as she sleeps in for the first time since I¡¯ve known her. Cold fingers wipe the warm liquid off my cheeks, and the first thing I see when I open my eyes is a thin scar at the wrist of someone¡¯s right hand, its width no greater than that of my fingernail. When the hand is out of the way, I find my arm looped around theirs. Jo? It¡¯s not the writer. It¡¯s her former student ¡ª colleague? ¡ª and friend. I don¡¯t know when the actress got here, and I don¡¯t know how long it¡¯s been, but judging by the taste in my mouth and the pain in my neck, I must have been asleep on her shoulder for at least an hour already. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to ¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Paula says, resting a hand on top of mine as if to say, ¡°You¡¯re not alone. You have me.¡± Maybe this is what made her and Jo friends. I need that. And so I rest my head on her shoulder again. We stare at Niel¡¯s door together. Then, at nothing ¡ª just listening to distant chatter and different soles making contact with polished mahogany floors, wasting what feels like hours watching people come and go. Those hours shrink to seconds when one of the residents stops cubits in front of us, looking at Paula, then me, then back. I can smell his perfume from here. His presence is comforting. It¡¯s a reminder of another life to look forward to, a world where I can meet Jo and Niel again when we¡¯re all already there. My favorite piece of art. I really thought I''d never see him again. No one can blame me if I run after him now, right? Can¡¯t you stop chasing guys for a second, B? I hear Jo¡¯s voice in my head, and I can almost see her in my periphery sitting at my right. It won¡¯t be the death of you. The boy leaves, taking the stairs down to the lobby. No, wait! ¡°She¡¯s not dead, you know.¡± Paula pipes up, and suddenly, everything is louder, as if the bubble that protected us from a world without Jo and filtered all its noises for us just popped. Even the sun shines brighter, washing everything in warm yellow. ¡°If you¡¯re just going to make me feel stupid, get lost.¡± I pull away and move to the opposite end of the couch. ¡°That¡¯s impossible here, but I can try.¡± God, I hate that it¡¯s not Jo sitting with me right now. ¡°Although I must ask: Are you sure you want your friend count to drop to one so soon?¡± Jo is still my friend, a voice in my head argues. Jo doesn¡¯t even know us anymore! Niel counters. ¡°Anyway, Herbert¡¯s got a gig out west later.¡± Paula straightens up, tugging at her blouse and smoothening her slacks. ¡°His friend¡¯s a guitarist there.¡± She slings her woven bag over her shoulder as she rises, heading for the stairs. If Jo was still here, we¡¯d be having breakfast together even if it¡¯s late. She thinks I only get to rest from searching when we¡¯re all together ¡ª she¡¯s actually not wrong if we don¡¯t count the time I spend sleeping ¡ª and the only times we spent together were the beginning and the end of each day. Soulmates aren¡¯t the only thing in this world, she¡¯d say. You still have so much time. You should spend some for yourself. I always argued that the time I spend searching is for myself. I can spend my entire day in front of Niel¡¯s unit for Jo. Or for the man she left behind. You should spend some for yourself. It¡¯s Jo¡¯s words spoken in a different context, but in this reality, the look on Paula¡¯s face when she glances at me says the exact same thing. Am I even reading her right? Go. You¡¯ll regret it if you don¡¯t. Last time I checked, she does not give a damn about soulmates. I find myself chasing after her as she takes her first step down the stairwell. ¡°Wait!¡± Oh, come on! Jo exclaims in my head. The thing is Paula¡¯s words rung true last night. You¡¯ll regret it if you don¡¯t. Who¡¯s to say they won¡¯t hold? ¡°Are you going? To that gig, I mean.¡± Paula meets me halfway, forcing me to slow down at the landing, which reminds me to watch my step for some reason. ¡°You¡¯re hell-bent on finding your soulmate, huh.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s just ¡ª misery loves company.¡± ?¡°No, it doesn¡¯t. It¡¯s the miserable who do.¡± Distraction Paula turns my living room into a studio while my bedroom doubles as a full-on wardrobe. It takes her an entire reprise for me to tidy up and change into my best clothes, or at least the ones that best complement Paula¡¯s outfit lest I underdress. Once we¡¯re out of my unit, it only takes half a song for me to regret wearing heels to minimize what little height difference we had. ?Heeled boots were not made for our sandy streets. And I was not meant to give my first dance away to Jo ¡ª not that it mattered that much ¡ª but here we are. Considering Paula¡¯s last words to Jo and her present demeanor, there¡¯s no way it''s a coincidence. ¡°How did you know?¡± I ask when the clouds pass us, forcing Paula to an abrupt intermission so she could take out her sunglasses. She glances at me as she unfolds them. About Jo or the guitarist? Jo. Now equipped with shades, she leads us through a series of narrow alleys that are oddly more spacious than the crowded streets. ¡°She told me her age when we met.¡± ¡°How did you meet?¡± ¡°I approached this loner who looked like she hated live bands and asked why she¡¯d been eating in that same restaurant three days in a row.¡± That doesn¡¯t sound like Jo. She loves live bands. It¡¯s practically a requirement for lunch. ¡°What did she say?¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t catch the question.¡± Oh. ¡°It was a relief, actually. Dre was particularly scared he wasn¡¯t a good enough vocalist.¡± There¡¯s that name again. ¡°So you wasted your time talking to a random stranger because your friend, who happens to be in a band, thought someone like Jo, of all people, hated his performance.¡± ¡°No. I made friends with a deaf loner because my bandmates and I thought we¡¯ve been ruining someone¡¯s dinner three days in a row while scouting the south for our soulmates.¡± ¡°Wait. I thought acting''s your one and only.¡± ¡°It is my number one, but it¡¯s not my only.¡± That doesn¡¯t make sense. Each of us gets gifted with only a single talent ¡ª our passion ¡ª while the rest can only be learned, and this world runs on passion. It¡¯s the same reason cooks can never replace bakers even if they could. God, this girl is being unfair in more ways than one. ¡°Wait, so singing was your first?¡± She scoffs, smiling fondly at a memory. ¡°I will take that as a yes.¡± ¡°Jo got me into the guild, then on stage, and I fell in love.¡± Acting is not your passion? ¡°I love theatre. I always have since day one.¡± ¡°How come you were in a band playing in lobbies and caf¨¦s? That¡¯s far from theatre.¡± ¡°Same reason you¡¯re always drawing in restaurants,¡± she replies, mimicking my tone. ¡°They¡¯re so far from museums.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± She chuckles, and despite her most expressive asset being hidden, it still moves me. ¡°I hate you.¡± My fist hits her upper arm. In turn, she grabs something from a rack she nearly falls into and hits me right on the crown with it. ¡°Really?¡± I take the fluffy thing off my head. ¡°This is the best you can ¡ª¡± I have no idea when the brown gravel turned red, but the ground proves we¡¯re no longer in the southeast. Instead of water buffalo carts and kubo stalls, thatched rondavels stand along one side of the path while modular wooden stalls line up the opposite. Most of them offer clothes fit for the weather ¡ª boots, socks, coats, gloves, beanies ¡ª but a select few offer loose, bright apparel and patterned garments that remind me of Jo¡¯s favorite sheets. ¡°It¡¯s still snowing in the west,¡± Paula says matter-of-factly as she replaces the winter cap on my head. Hold on. When did you get that back? "You have a loose grip for someone with heavy hands." She mumbles as she takes my right in her left. The warm colors, the earthy scents, the intricate patterns around solid colors ¡ª it¡¯s all so Jo. We continue walking, her eyes locked ahead and mine trained on the supplementary colors of our boots as their background changes from rust to ochre, from gravel to cobblestone. ¡°Are you bringing me to her unit?¡± ¡°Some other time, kid. That won¡¯t help. You still look like you want to cry.¡± I tug her arm for her to stop and face me. ¡°What did you just call me?¡± ¡°You¡¯re younger than me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not even born yet, kid.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t just walk around calling everyone embryos though, can I?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Ugh. ¡°Great! You''re a nerd too.¡± If anyone sucks at being soulmates, it¡¯s those science-y folk. They only ever geek about new toys no one even needs, much less understand. In fact, they''re the ones who''d never move out of their units for their soulmate. ¡°You¡¯re associating me with everything.¡± First, actors. Then, musicians. Now, those? ¡°Is it impossible?¡± You¡¯ve been breaking all the rules! Just one for my soulmate, and one for myself. ¡°Music and theatre. That¡¯s it.¡± For yourself huh. Paula squeezes my hand when we reach the exit to the west, alder and rowan trees welcoming us to an aisle of snow-capped shrubs in a white-washed town. Several more cubits and we finally reach a diner lined with pink and blue lights. The neon glow, black and white tiles, and red sofas are familiar ¡ª there¡¯s no restaurant in this world I haven¡¯t been to anyway ¡ª but this is the last diner I would go to, what with the frigid climate and a group of mostly tall people barricading several square cubits with boxes and tripods. It is hard talking to people with eyes conspicuously glued to models, dancers, actors, or whatever it was those camera people had their lenses aimed at. As fate would have it, they¡¯re in the area today too, but luckily, they aren''t too close to the diner. Herbert¡¯s band would lose to such competition. Well, it¡¯s not really Herbert¡¯s band. It¡¯s Chloe¡¯s. Chloe is undeniably an enchanting singer. The diner is not as noisy as it was the couple of times I¡¯ve been here, and most of the patrons have their eyes locked on the far end of the room. However, I think she¡¯s better off on Mitch¡¯s tapes. At least when people hear her music from the speakers, they do not see full lips carrying the beats out of one¡¯s mouth, or long fingers gliding over the strings of a guitar. At least when unseen, she gets to keep the spotlight. ¡°Jude¡¯s the guitarist,¡± Paula tells me as she finds us a booth. ¡°He¡¯s good.¡± ¡°¡®Good¡¯? He''s great!¡± He is not the first guitarist I¡¯ve seen. There was this outdoor performance during the tour, right before that storm. Some groups do haranas in one of the restaurants in the east. A duo always performs in the lobby of my building. They all got guitarists, but none like Jude. He plucks the strings in a deliberate pattern, flicks his wrist at just the right moments to add flavor to the beat that Herbert creates. Just when his instrument becomes the loudest out of the accompaniments, he plays a few gentle notes on a single string to blend with the singer¡¯s voice. It¡¯s mesmerizing. The smoke rising from a mug in my periphery reminds me to blink. ¡°How can you not want to find your soulmate?¡± Referencing the song that just ended, I ask Paula as she slides the cup of coffee on the table, which I eagerly take into my hands. ¡°Say you do get lucky and they let you take the test ¡ª aren¡¯t you afraid of being alone?¡± An ice-cold strawberry milkshake waits patiently for the actress to decide which metal straw to use for the drink. How she¡¯s taking that in this weather ¡ª in this place where it snows and the heaters are not enough for me ¡ª I have no idea. ¡°Were you at the back during your orientation?¡± ¡°No, I was in front. And what does that have to do with this?¡± ¡°So you weren¡¯t listening.¡± I can¡¯t deny that. Ramon is more boring than a book without pictures. ¡°He said Earth is a worse version of this place. I¡¯m not sure how much of it would be like this, but I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ll meet friends to get me by.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you feel incomplete?¡± She doesn¡¯t answer; just takes a sip of that cold, pink beverage. I take a sip of my drink: hot, strong, and sweet ¡ª just how I like it. ¡°You should try this sometime. Might warm your heart.¡± She only scoffs at the comment. "Or, you know, join them." ¡°How long will it take for you to know if he''s not your soulmate?¡± Paula asks, ignoring my suggestions. The band is already somewhere in the middle of another song, but my eyes return to them in time to catch the solo riff. ¡°It depends.¡± Most of the guys I spoke with told me upfront if they¡¯re sure I¡¯m not their soulmate, including the actor-slash-beatboxer. Some took minutes of questions thrown back and forth, but a select few took hours wondering why they still don¡¯t see color ¡ª or still do not see at all ¡ª when we already found each other, considering those are common signs of one¡¯s soulmate being a visual artist. When Chloe introduces the guitarist, Jude waves before he sets the guitar down on a stand. Herbert bows at the mention of his name the way he did at the end of the play, and Paula readily meets him at the side. Wait. We are five booths away. The aisles are not spacious, and there is only one way for her to get there: right in front of me. But somehow, she¡¯s now in his arms. ¡°At this point, they¡¯ll mistake each other as their halves during the test.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure they are.¡± I mean, not only do they look good together; they look complete. A guy in a brown pullover sits across from me. ¡°Herb told me they¡¯re not, and he doesn¡¯t lie.¡± Prominent cheekbones. Strong jaw. Thin lips. Yeah, you¡¯re totally my new subject. ¡°Not that anyone in this world does,¡± the guitarist adds. ¡°Honestus made sure of that.¡± ¡°Honestus?¡± I¡¯d scour my memory bank right now if his blue eyes weren¡¯t so distracting, but judging by what he said, Honestus is probably responsible for liars getting unwanted scars. Or so the rumor goes. I¡¯ve only ever met one guy with several scars, all of which he earned from martial arts. He laughs, probably assuming I meant it as a joke. Oh, well. ¡°Jude.¡± He reaches a hand across the table, and I take it only to yank my hand back. I¡¯ve heard people talk about how sparks fly when they meet their soulmate ¡ª it¡¯s debatable how many of them meant it literally ¡ª but what of the ones that pass silently between two people? What of this electric shock? We must have wasted a few seconds asking each other with our eyes what that was, that Jude feels the need to remind himself out loud that they only have a fifteen-minute break before he has to play again. ¡°Well, I¡¯m Bea.¡± ¡°I heard. So are you going to start your resto interrogation here or do you want to go somewhere else?¡± ¡°Sorry, who told you that? Niel?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know who that is, but Herb told me you went asking around after their show last night.¡± ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t call that interrogation.¡± ¡°Agreed. Last night sounded more like speed dating.¡± ¡°Ew, no. Restaurant dates are lame.¡± ¡°Where would you take me then? Sports game? Picnic? Museum?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve actually only been to one museum, so maybe you can take me to a good one.¡± ¡°Oh, I know a lot of good ones, but I wouldn¡¯t bring anyone there on a date.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t touch an artwork and all that?¡± ¡°Someone¡¯s got to pin ¡®em to the wall, though.¡± A hand suddenly touches my shoulder, just in time to pull my reins. ¡°Feeling better?¡± Paula asks. As if on cue, Herbert takes Jude. Be right back, he mouths before leaving with his friend. ¡°I guess so?¡± Less than ten minutes with the boy, and I totally forgot about the only two people I ever really loved in this place. Only now do I realize I felt strangely secure the entire time as if Jo and Niel came with me, like they were somewhere close by talking to other people on my behalf, and I could share a few looks with them every couple hours or so. Except it has only been minutes. ¡°Yeah.¡± I nod. ¡°Yeah, I think I am. And heck, he might be my soulmate.¡± ¡°Really?¡± For someone who thinks people are better off without soulmates, she sure sounds more thrilled than I am. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have felt so strongly that night. ¡°And here I thought you don¡¯t care about soulmates.¡± ¡°Eh, this is the same feeling I get when I see people shed tears because of our performance.¡± Scratch that. I may have been fooled for a second there. Paula gives me a mischievous look, like she saw me cry because of the climax that night ¡ª a scene that showcased her talent as well as her beauty when she took off her mask ¡ª and I hate it. She¡¯s doing it again, whatever it is. I mean, come on. It¡¯s normal to trip sometimes, and such an accident must not be ashamed of. It¡¯s normal to ask all those dumb questions when we¡¯re told our only options are to complete ourselves or experience something worse than death. And considering the number of people who cried over that play, even if it was my first time watching one, I say it is absolutely normal to cry over some drama. ¡°It¡¯s called fulfillment, Bea. There are other things beyond aside from your partner that can make you feel that way.¡± Name what I feel around you, and I just might try a new hobby.