Little Miss Brightside

"It was only a kiss," she said. He'd shown up at her flat a few times, once with flowers for her birthday, once with a question about work, and once with no good excuse at all except to stutter out something about winding up in her neighborhood by accident. An awkward silence had followed, both sizing each other up before quickly looking away.

"Do you want-"

"I shouldn't have-no, go ahead."

Gwen had opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish a couple of times before she found her voice again.

"Uh...would-would you like to come in? I was...just about to put a kettle on."

He'd nodded, looking a bit relieved.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great."

She'd sat him down on the sofa where he fidgeted uncomfortably while she bustled around the kitchen throwing tea tray together, chattering about nonsense the entire time.

"I told her the landlord would never stand for it. I mean, can you even imagine? Breeding snakes in a flat in central London! I don't know where she gets these ideas from. I swear it's like she was meant to exist in a completely different era."

Arthur had nodded and made non-committal noises. He hadn't had much contact with his half-sister since he'd taken over their father's law firm, but Gwen had remained close with both of them.

"I have Earl Grey or Darjeeling, I hope that's alright."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, it's fine. I'm not picky."

(It was a lie. She'd known it was a lie. He always made his own tea at the office because his secretary could never get it right and it was enough to throw off his entire day.)

She'd poured him a cup of Earl Grey, offered him milk, sugar, and lemon, and perched herself on the edge of her ottoman so they could chat.

Except they didn't chat.

The same awkward silence had fallen while Arthur thoughtfully sipped at his tea and Gwen stirred hers long after all the sugar had dissolved and the steam from the cup had stopped clouding against her face in warm little puffs.

"Do you ever-" she'd said.

"I was just wondering if-" he'd said at the exact same time.

Both cut themselves off abruptly and locked eyes for a long moment.

"Go ahead," she'd breathed, something making her voice catch in the back of her throat.

"I was just...Do you ever feel like...you don't...belong here?"

Not the question she'd been expecting.

"What?"

"I mean. Do you...do you ever wake up in the middle of the night from a dream so vivid you'd swear it was a memory?"

Her brows had knit together.

"I-I guess so. Once or twice, yeah. Why?"

"I've been-no, you know what, never mind."

"Hey, no," she'd said. "You brought this up! You don't just get to back out of it now. Come on. Tell me."

She'd moved over to the couch, her cup of tea abandoned on the tray, and lightly rested a hand on his arm.

"Tell me. What's bothering you?"

Their faces had been close, less than a foot away from each other. His skin beneath the sleeve of his shirt was warm, in sharp contrast to her hands, which were always cold. (Poor circulation. Directly linked to a heart murmur she'd had since early childhood.)

"Do you ever think," he'd finally said, "that...your mind is somehow older than your body? That you have memories of some kind from...another time or another place?"

She'd found herself nodding, even though she'd literally never even considered the idea before.

"Do you?" she'd whispered, almost afraid of his answer for some reason.

He'd nodded. "Yeah. More and more. And you know something? The circumstances change but one thing is always the same."

"What's that?"

"You. It's always you, Gwen."

Her eyebrows had shot up and before either of them could say anything more, their lips met. A thousand thoughts had rushed through her head in one moment. He smells nice. Is that...lavender? Are you insane? You work together! You're desperate, Gwen. It's been too long since Gary and you're looking for anyone with a-

In the next moment, she'd realized her thoughts were no longer her own even though she still heard her voice in them.

"What's he thinking about?"

"You."

Another voice. Another man?

A vision seemed to accompany the thoughts, one that, like Arthur had said, seemed more like a memory. Arthur in a white...cape?...on the floor of what looked like the great hall of an ancient castle. His head was bowed but the blond hair was still immediately recognizable.

A quest. He's going on a quest.

To the Perilous Lands.

He might not come back.

It's to prove his worth before he becomes King.

King

King

King

I present Arthur, King of Camelot!

Her eyes had flown open and the kissed ended as abruptly as it had began. She'd practically leapt off the couch while Arthur sat there looking almost as stunned as she'd felt.

"I-I-I don't."

"I'm sorry. I didn't-Did you see…?"

"I can't do this. That was a mistake. I-I think you need to leave."

He'd looked at her with a mix of hurt and understanding, as though he'd been in her exact position before.

To his credit, he hadn't tried to persuade her of anything, or to ask when he could see her again. Even so, Gwen's mother would had been appalled at how quickly she'd herded him out of her flat before slamming the door with just a bit too much force.

She'd slumped to the floor, breathless.

"It was only a kiss," she now said aloud, trying to convince herself that her reality was as stable as it had ever been. "It was only a kiss."