He wanted to say that he had just been busy and hadn't noticed. It wasn't a completely uncommon thing, to get so caught up in trying to keep yourself from getting nervous that you forget the event all together. Hell, his brother Matthew had been so busy trying to steady his breathing that he nearly walked past Gilbert completely (not that he would have minded that – Gilbert was nice and all but the guy could get on his nerves after three hours watching him trying to put the moves on his baby brother). In years to come, he decided, that's how he would tell this story. He had just been so nervous about meeting the guy that he forgot for a moment what time it was. No big deal, they would reply back to him, it could happen to anyone. However, no matter how convincing his pre-planned lie was, that didn't stopping it from being a lie.

The truth was, Alfred F. Jones forgot about his soulmate entirely.

It should have been an average Tuesday afternoon. When he had imagined it all those years before, lying on his bed into the wee hours of the morning, that's what he knew would happen. At approximately 4:29, he would make his way down the street towards his place of work (he was an astronaut, naturally, as NASA only picked the finest), sunlight glinting off of his rippling biceps as men and women swooned left and right. Suddenly, just as the clock clicked over to 4:30, he would bump into someone, the papers they were holding scattering everywhere in the gentle summer wind. He, of course, would heroically bend over to pick them up, and just as their hands touched, their timers would go off. The oblong pieces of plastic would fall to the ground and he would look up to see the man he would spend the rest of his life with (who would then, of course, be swept into the grandest, most romantic first kiss that anybody had ever seen). It would be absolutely perfect. Or at least, it should have been.

That Tuesday, instead of making his way to his glamorous job, Alfred scrambled around his dorm room, struggling to shove the last pieces of an astronomical model together while simultaneously shoving his notes into his bag and having a heated conversation over the phone with his brother. He made a complete mess, shoving aside thick, post-it-note-laden textbooks and half-finished essays in search for the missing piece, his roommate Kiku sitting politely out of the way in the corner of the room.

"Mattie, come on, you've gotta know where it is!" he exclaimed, hands thrown over his head in frustration as thunder crackled outside, "This project is worth like, half my grade, and what do you think I'll get on it if I don't have Earth? It's the most important planet, Mattie, I need it."

From his side of the phone, nestled into a pile of blankets, Matthew heaved a sigh at his brother's franticness. "Look, Al, I said I don't know okay?" he said in what he hoped was an assertive tone, "Why do you even have to do a model anyway? Isn't that a bit too, I don't know, middle school science instead of rocket science?"

Alfred paused in his frantic searching to level a serious look at his phone (one his brother couldn't see, given that they were talking over the phone) and lift one reprimanding finger into the air. "Okay, bro, first of all it's called aerospace engineering, not rocket science, and second of all- hey, wait a second, is that…?" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the acrylic paint-covered foam Earth lying forlorn in a red cup half full of coke on his bedside table. "Yo, dude, I'm gonna have to call you back."

Before Matthew could utter a word, Alfred had pushed the end call button and sprinted out the door into the pouring rain, model in hand. As he ran towards his class, he attempted to shove the damp piece onto its peg haphazardly without making it look as if he shoved it together right before class (which, of course, he did). He didn't even notice as his timer inched dangerously close to zero.

In fact, he hadn't noticed all day. All week, even. Counting even the briefest thought on the subject, it had been nine days, five hours, and fourty-three seconds since Alfred had thought of the impending meeting between him and his soulmate. It wasn't that he wasn't mind-numbingly excited or teeth-chatteringly nervous about meeting the man, but with all the extra work being piled on him at the end of the semester he had simply…forgot.

When the timer reached zero, Alfred was still running, breath labored as he crashed, forehead-first, into a young man walking out of a nearby bookstore. Books, papers, and the astronomical model scattered across the pavement, soaking into the pools of water that collected in the dips of the sidewalk. Two timers, their beeping partially obscured by the thundering rain, fell to the ground, and a pair of shockingly green eyes turned upward to meet-

Nobody. The young man looked around, abnormally large eyebrows furrowing as he spotted the boy he had just crashed into (his soulmate, his mind whispered) sprinting away at full speed, bomber jacket turned up against the wind and astronomical model in hand. "Hey!" he shouted, "Wait!" He quickly realized that the boy wasn't stopping, and so, frantically gathering up his freshly-bought and freshly-ruined books, he took off after him.

Arthur Kirkland was a very precise man. He took his tea (two sugars, no milk, thank you) with his breakfast, just after lunch, and occasionally a cup before bed. He decided, when he was ten years old, that he would study abroad in America – not for the spontaneous adventures that he would 'be sure to have' (according to Francis, but who could trust Francis anyway), but because it would look good on a job application. And, on the day that he was to meet his soulmate, he wore a pair of jeans, a white-button down, and a green vest (not too formal, not too casual – and he had been told the vest brought out his eyes) and set out for the bookstore (A Midsummer Night's Dream and Northanger Abbey – Shakespeare and Austen to show that he was smart, but the lesser known works to show that he was cultured). He certainly didn't expect to chase a runaway soulmate a quarter of a mile in the rain and he most certainly didn't expect to find himself sitting outside a locked classroom door that said soulmate had run into.

He waited there for the better part of an hour, legs pulled tightly against his chest as he absolutely did not try to fight back tears. He wasn't quite sure what had gone wrong – he had planned for this day for years, hoped and speculated and worried over the man he was meant to be with, and when it finally happened, the man disappeared, leaving Arthur to hope and speculate and worry (mostly worry) more than he ever had before. What if he was too busy to have time in his life for love? What if he wasn't the right man? What if he just didn't want to have a soulmate? What if he had taken one look at Arthur and decided right then and there that he hated him, without even giving him a chance?

Arthur dug his fingernails into the skin of his arms. He wasn't sad – wasn't upset or worried or anything else that would put him at the mercy of a man who would run away from his soulmate. No, he was angry. He was absolutely furious, and the only reason he was still sitting outside that damned classroom door was to give Mister-Bomber-Jacket a piece of his mind. The overwhelming urge to give a man he'd never met a black eye was countered, however, by his sense of logic. He was a gentleman, he reasoned, and the very least he could do would be to allow the poor man to explain himself. Surely he had a sensible explanation for all this nonsense. And so Arthur spent an hour leaning against the old brick wall, water slowly dripping from his sopping hair and clothing as he cycled between rage, trepidation, and self-loathing.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a group of weary-but-relieved college students shuffled out, one by one, some in pajamas, some in t-shirts, but none in that very distinctive bomber jacket. As the professor walked out, Arthur stood up, confused and a bit anxious, and peeked into the room.

Alfred slowly packed up his things, attempting to organize them neatly into some semblance of order, relief seeping into his bones. If the professor had only told them it was an effort grade in the first place, he wouldn't have run so hard to get there (although what kind of college professor gave effort grades, he wasn't entirely sure – not that he was complaining, of course). He was pretty sure that he had knocked some old guy down without even having the time to help him back up, which wasn't very heroic of him at all. He mentally shrugged though – he was pretty sure that kitten he saved from a tree back in third grade covered one fallen old man.

As he attempted to walk out of the door, however, he bumped into someone – someone dripping wet, scowling like hell, and completely incensed. He opened his mouth instinctively to apologize, but before he could get the words out he was met with an angry poke to the chest.

"You." The man hissed out, his every word dripping with malice, "You better have a damn good explanation for all of this." These words caught Alfred by surprise and he stumbled back a few steps.

"Uh…" he swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, "What?"

The man took a few steps forward to match him, forcing him closer to the brick wall. "You heard me. Why the hell did you run off like that? You didn't even stop to help me up, and then I had to chase you all the way here and sit here for an hour while you did who knows what."

Alfred's brow furrowed in confusion, "Wait a minute…" his eyes widened in realization, "That was you? Oh, dude, I thought it was an old man. Although with your clothes, who can blame me, am I right?"

The man stared at him in amazement. "You're impossible. I can't believe you have the audacity to treat me like this, considering what we are to each other."

Alfred took another look at the man, bewilderment apparent on his face. He was sure that he didn't know this guy, so what the hell was he talking about? Maybe he could get this stranger to see reason. "Dude, we aren't anything to each other."

The man looked as if he had been shocked. He took a few stumbling steps backwards, eyes beginning to water as he bit his quivering lip. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke. "I…I…" He seemed to steel himself, though his show of strength did nothing to mask the wavering in his voice, "If that's how you see it, then fine. I never needed anyone before and I don't need anyone now." He let out a shaky laugh as he wiped his tears and turned, beginning to walk away. "I don't know what's worse; the fact that you're my soulmate or what that says about me."

Now it was Alfred's turn to be shocked, standing almost dazed as he watched the man turn the corner of the hallway before taking off after him, shouting, "Wait!"

The man turned, scowling as Alfred bounded up behind him. "What do you want?"

Alfred paused, catching his breath, before being able to choke out, "Soulmates?"

The man rolled his eyes, disgust plain on his features as he turned again to leave. "Haven't you done enough? Leave me alone."

Alfred grasped his shoulder, twirling him around so that they were face to face once more, his face earnest and pleading as he asked, "What do you mean, soulmates?"

The man paused, looking up at him in confusion. "Didn't we just have a conversation about this?"

Alfred shook his head wildly. "No! Yes? I don't know." He breathed out before looking the man in the eyes, "I don't have a soulmate. Not yet, a least. My timer's due to go off at-"

"May 26, 4:30 p.m." The man finished, "I know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out two identical pieces of plastic, handing one to Alfred.

Alfred stared at the timer, completely perplexed, before pulling up the right sleeve of his jacket, his eyes widening at his wrist, now marked only with two small horizontal lines, the only evidence of the forgotten timer. "It's gone." He said in bewilderment.

The man, who had now caught on to the situation and was looking with amusement at the confused Alfred, pulled up the right sleeve of his shirt and placed it next to Alfred's. "Yes," he whispered, voice full of delight, "They do that."

Alfred now turned his gaze towards the man, eyes filled with wonder as the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile, "You're my soulmate."

"Congratulations on figuring that one out. It only took you about an hour and a half." His wry grin was suddenly replaced by a shy smile, the likes of which Alfred found himself wanting to see more of, "I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." He stretched his hand out towards him, but his offer of a handshake was ignored in favor of a nearly bone-crushing hug.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones!" He enthusiastically mumbled into Arthur's shoulder, causing the young man to chuckle, before pulling back and leveling him with a strangely serious look (Arthur privately noted that he much preferred him smiling). "Hey Arthur," he said in a half-whisper, "Can I kiss you?"

Arthur's emerald eyes brightened as they stared into sky blue, neither quite sure who had started euphorically smiling first (but both sure that it was catching), and he replied, "I'm not entirely sure whether you can or not, but you may if you'd like."

And he did.