The Red String of Fate.
She sighed, heavily and longingly; as she sat on a lonely chair with a small, lonely, rounded table. Her companion was her expected, lonely self.
People past by her, either it was of ignorance or her uncanny powers of blending in the farthest corner of the establishment.
She was in her usual seat, during weekends, with precise timing. Weekends were her day-off, she would've go to The Cafe (The store's self-explanatory name) and order a chocolate mocha, strawberry frappe and a single platter consisting of hot brioches.
Then she would sit on her destined chair before opening one of Austen's novel in exact 5:00 of the evening.
Her life was monotonous, per se.
Today was entirely different.
She opened her book at 6.
She had met her long time childhood friend, Raoul, earlier and he insists on grabbing a couple of sandwich, his treat, and the two had talked for seemingly an hour.
She was more than glad to reminisce their past of childhood memories and her unforgotten red scarf.
By the time she took notice of her lateness, they exchange their numbers and promises to call.
She scampered to her favorite, usual hangout, The Cafe, and once her faithful server saw her coming, he made her all time favorite comestibles.
She made her way to the dark corner.
She never did like people staring at her, yet she likes staring at them and their fated ones.
It was like their fortunate threads screamed at her for her solitude, making her very different from the others or simply call it as 'Not fitting in.'
Christine has an usual gift.
It was very unique and tough at the same time. She couldn't even tell anyone, not even her best friend, Meg. They would think her crazy, if she merely pointed out their destined lovers.
She called it the 'Sight'.
When she was very little and too naive for her understanding, Little Christine blurted out to her dear mother and father that there was a red, peculiar lining around their little fingers and both ends leading to her beloved parents.
They smiled and told her the story of the magical, invisible Red thread. She was sure they didn't believe her then, because in the end they told her it was just a story, a romantic myth, a legendary proverb of an old Chinese man.
God bless their souls, they're mighty wrong. It is undeniably legit or to a certain extent that she wasn't just seeing these strings because she's gone bonkers. Fate is real, poverty is real, destiny is real, JK Rowling is real and menstruation is damned real!
As she grew older, She was surrounded by their blinding lights as people stepped on it and unknowingly dragged it from their pinkies. They couldn't possibly know that whatever little they do-Fate already have designed their lives. Whether you take this cab instead of walking home; or you went out with your girlfriends to this new bar than spending your Friday night, alone and watching reruns of Veronica Mars; or you decided to cheat on your midterm exam. Everything you do is already systematic, planned out and unavoidable -it's just a matter of when you do it.
Christine felt sorry for the people who haven't met their significant others. She once witnessed a girl who was passing by this guy with his girlfriend. Christine wanted to yell at them, the girl was the fated one, not his current girlfriend!
Sometimes her sight led to her headaches. It was frustratingly horrible to see many glowing strings crying out for attention-mainly- her attention, forasmuch as she understood behind of so many misled destinies; caused of breakups, divorces and broken hearts. still, the rules of The red string of fate are that regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.
Christine sipped the glorious taste of her drink while staring at the long threads on the floor, customers stepping them idly and unintentionally.
She once stared at her own string and followed it, but it was tangled by the mess of others, and she lost track of her own. Besides, it would be tragic if they saw her strangely looking at her hand and following something they couldn't see.
In her childhood days, she often wondered if she and Raoul would be a couple someday. She played a role of a fairy princess and him her gallant warrior prince, both lived happily ever after, so why not in real life? however, his string was leading to a another direction, not hers.
Her parents were destined; she would stop whatever she's doing and deeply think if the other half of her line would come to her. She accepted that it was no use to locate her destiny but to just wait.
She was now 24 years old. She's never had any boyfriends nor dates, she was waiting for him to come and save her from her solitude before she turns out to be a spinster...
Suddenly, a bright glow caught her eyes as her server bumped onto a girl, her drink was spilled on her former white tee and he kept apologizing while handling her a handful of tissues.
Christine widely smiled, they are fated.
Yet shook her head at their first grand meeting.
She decided to stop her conspicuous observing and turn her attention to a certain page of her book. 'I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you-especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightl-'
"Excuse me?" a very deep voice and a forced cough tingled her ears. She didn't look at the convict but instead listened. "Miss? You are on my seat." he politely said but something in his tone was a bit demanding.
Christine scoffed, refusing to look at him, "You bought it?" no reply from him, "Then it's not yours to claim. I am sitting here." she proceeds to read the interrupted passage, Where was I? ah- '-tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the correspondi-'
His voice was a faint, "But why?"
Could he not see that I'm reading and enjoying my isolation? "I don't like to be seen and the prospect of standing is much too tedious, don't you think? Is there any problem?"
"Why wouldn't you not want to be seen? you're.. -never mind. This is my usual seat, and I take refuge from this corner, consider this please." she almost shivered from his angelic voice. Never had someone to almost beg just for a chair...
She closed her book and rested it on the table. "Look, I need-" Her head settled to his way, her eyes wide welcoming her interest and curiosity. So that's why.
Despite the stranger cowering in the dark, she could plainly see the other side of his face was covered in something of the color white, and the giveaway of his golden eyes glow, staring at her too. He carried a sensuous air of allusion, there's a massive amount of secrecy to him that makes her want to unravel him. Her cheeks had flushed when she notices they were staring for far too long.
She breathed, "Okay." Maybe this was his hiding spot for his own time. She was rather behind schedule, She struggled for her bag and her coffee. Christine slowly walked to the direction of the door when she mentally slapped herself.
Of all the things I must forget!
She strides to her previous corner and saw his periphery standing and a outstretched hand with the paperback. She whispered a thank you before her hands lightly touched his when she reached for her adored book. The light magnetic tension between that miniscule touch blew her senses and caught herself staring like a fool; out of the corners of her eyes, she glimpses a strong glow below.
Her instant urge was to look quizzically at his now shining pinkie with his own little string.
She gasped loudly, earning his widely confuse facial expression. He must've thought her lunatic, her gasping at nothing. She can't blame him though, she's odd herself and what makes it double that she can see the threads around them, and theirs, whereas nobody could.
She didn't let his left hand go, his thread was completely connected to hers as clearly as the intricate snowflake on the very first set of winter.
Maybe this day was truly different from the others. This was not just a mild concurrence of Raoul intervening her supposed schedule, the server's fault; and him having to acquaint with his destined, Christine reading the passage of Jane Eyre but was cut off by a strange, cunning fellow; who turns out to be her significant other half, her soul mate!
It was all too surprising as well as fascinating to her.
Just a slight interference will definitely alter the boring life you live into a surprising one...
We are all evermore interwoven to meet.
And she'll definitely come back tomorrow with her new time schedule.
UKNOWNYMUSE:
Hello, I just want to explain that this Phanfic is NOT a full story. It contains AU's, Modern Settings, Medieval Times, Gaston Leroux's Era, Myths, Supernaturals and other unworldly weirdness of my mind.
I OWN NOTHING BUT THIS STORY.
AND IF I OWN THEM, SURELY YOU'RE NOT THAT MAD TO EVEN THINK OF IT, OTHERWISE I'M AS OLD AS THE GREAT GASTON LEROUX. OR I'M A SPARKLING VAMPIRE TO ACTUALLY LIVE FOR SO LONG
￣へ￣ BE RATIONAL, GUYS.
SOME DESCRIPTIONS AND REFERENCES OF THE CHARACTERS ARE FROM:
GASTON LEROUX's PHANTOM OF THE OPERA,
ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER's musical of POTO & LND,
SUSAN KAY's THE PHANTOM.
WHATEVER SUITS YOUR IMAGINATION.
THEIR SURNAMES MIGHT NOT BE CANON ONES. I WOULD LIKE TO NOT REPEAT ANY SURNAMES FOR IT MAY CONFUSE YOU TO THEIR PERSONAS. BECAUSE EVERY CHAPTER IS DIFFERENT.
PS.
EVERY CHAPTER IS THEIR OTHER LIFE. (e.g. If Erik is a talented, genius, disfigured man in this chapter,
then he shall be a talented, genius, NORMAL looking man in the other. But him being a handsome looking man would be boring no?)
EVERY CHAPTER IS UNIQUE. 221B BAKER ST!