Italic is Felicia, and bold is Harry. I got this idea from a story I read earlier the other day I think it was already. It was about soulmates and having the name of their soulmate on their back since they were born.
I'm sitting comfortably at the head of the table, surrounded by stuffy old men who only want my father's company when I see one person who sticks out. A beautiful raven haired girl at the end of the table, her pen poised and ready to take notes on the meeting. She doesn't seem to notice my eyes on her at first, but then she moves and our eyes meet.
I'm sitting at the end chair, feeling like I'm blending into the background. I mean, that's what I'm supposed to do anyways, doesn't mean I have to like it. As Mr. Norman Osborn's assistant it's been my duty to do whatever he requires, and at the end it was taking strict, organized, and fact filled notes on all of the board meetings. It was rather boring, but my job paid well and I've become friends of sort with Mr. Osborn. Although that is the last name engraved delicately by my spine, I didn't take the job for that reason. I don't know his son's name, but he is going to be my new boss since Mr. Osborn passed. He'd tell me all sorts of things about his son, he'd praise him one day and scorn him the next and I could never help but feel he'd hand picked me for a specific reason, and maybe that reason had something to do with the name on my back.
Suddenly I feel like I'm being watched by at least a dozen eyes, so cautiously I peek through my hair before raising my chin and meeting the board's questioning eyes, and... his. A man, who I guess to be no older than myself, is sitting at the head of the table where Mr. Osborn always sat before his illness progressed further. He is studying me, his gaze is intense and I hold my ground as I examine him as well. He is well dressed, his hair is a light brown and his eyes. Oh his eyes, they are a deep piercing blue and they do indeed pierce my very soul. Like he is reading my mind. and I feel my ability to say a single coherent sentence is slipping the more I look at him. And then he does something I'm not sure I'm quite expecting.
"Hi." I say, looking her over. She seems almost startled that I even acknowledged her, but she is too beautiful not too. Out of the recess of my memories I suddenly remember most of the times my father was civil and almost caring towards me he was always describing his assistant to me. For some reason he wanted me to see her, to meet her, and to bond with her. I never understood it, but now I think I do. I think it's her.
"You were his assistant, weren't you?" I ask, hoping against all odds that she says yes.
"Mmmm." I sort of hum an answer, as I don't really trust my words yet. And I add a small nod to help get my answer across.
"What's your name?" the question slips out before I can help it, and I catch myself by surprise. I normally don't bother to ask people for their names, I never need to know. Everybody always wants my families' money and don't care about me. But this time I am genuinely curious.
I pause for the smallest second before responding somehow without tripping over simply saying my own name. "Felicia." I basically breath my name out, but still managed to keep my voice confident. And he looks surprised for a second before he smirks, he looks pleased for some reason.
"Felicia." The name slides off my tongue with ease, as if it something I'd known forever. I really had, for it was the same name gently, delicately written on my back. Now my only hope is that she shares the same last name.
"Everybody at this table works for Felicia because Felicia works for me." I make the decision in a split second, knowing I'd see more of her for it. She was my assistant now and getting to see her more seems like a great gift.
"Any questions?" I ask as I move up to my feet, moving my arms out wide. I know full well none of them were brave enough to do anything yet.
As he concluded the meeting I almost couldn't believe he'd put them all under me. That I was his assistant now.
Pulling myself up I waited by my chair for the board to leave. As I waited I attempted to discretely check out Mr. Osborn's son. He seemed to be watching me and the second the last board member was at the door I turned to fully face him.
"Is there anything I can do for you Mr. Osborn?" formalities are everything is big business.
"Please, call me Harry. Mr. Osborn, that's much too formal." I move towards her until I'm only an arms length away. She's much more beautiful up close and her green eyes are piercing and seem to hold many secrets and I think I look forward to making them talk. To find out all about her.
"Harry." I repeat, my voice small. I think he can see how nervous I've become all the sudden with the sudden knowledge of his full name.
"You're Harry." I feel like one of those wind up toys that goes through the same motions over and over. Somehow I've moved even closer to him and he smells wonderful. Like the home I never had but always wanted.
She repeats my name and moves toward me and I am stunned into silence for a second as I feel like my suspicions must be true. She was my Felicia.
"Felicia. Felicia Hardy." my voice is soft when I say her name, and her eyes light up a little. Gently I lift my slightly shaking hand to trace her cheek. I can tell she sees my hand shake and I tense up as I begin to drop my hand.
Quickly I move to hold his hand at my cheek, I don't want him to let stop. It feels wonderful, his touch.
"It's genetic isn't it?" I whisper softly, feeling like I already know the answer after seeing how his hand was shaking. Just like Norman Osborn's did.
I look at her, my heart suddenly heavy. "Yeah." Eventually I would leave her, I would die and she'd be alone.
I could see it in his eyes, he was thinking about how with this disease he'd die if a cure wasn't found. I couldn't let that happen when I've only just found him
"I promise you, I'll do everything I can to help you Harry." I reach out to place my other palm to his cheek, relishing the contact. There is no way Felicia Hardy is going down without a fight.