AN: This is for a soulmates AU posted on tumblr where what's drawn on one person's arm shows up on the other. My goal is to write for 15-30 minutes each day and post what I end up with. I'm estimating it'll take a week to finish the story that's in my head.
James smiled when he felt the familiar tingling in his arm. He rolled his shirt sleeve up and watched as Rose's sketch appeared on his forearm. They'd never met, but he felt like he knew her, just from her pretty floral drawings.
He'd been seven when a childish sketch of a cat had appeared on his arm for the first time. His mum had answered his frantic cries and smiled when she'd realised the source of his anxiety.
That was when he'd learned about the connection between soulmates, how what was written on one's arm would appear on the other's.
Young James had stared at the cat for several minutes, then picked up a pen and written a message back to his soulmate. They'd been inseparable ever since—well, as inseparable as you could be when you'd never actually met.
They'd been fifteen when they'd tried to tell each other their names, despite the common knowledge that it was impossible to share names over the soulmate link. Finally, a quick sketch of a rose had bled through the connection onto his arm, followed by the words, "That's me." He'd never found a way to tell her his name, but Rose had assured him it was fine. She'd learn it when they met.
James was not an artist, nor was he particularly purposeful about what he told Rose. She would send him little notes, obviously meant just for him. He was more likely to jot down reminders about where he was supposed to be.
He ran his hand through his hair. Speaking of, he was late. He'd been sure he had time for a coffee before he met with his advisor at the university, but once again, time was having the last laugh.
He glanced down at his arm again. Next to Rose's pretty drawing were words in his own handwriting, much more prosaic: Rhyven Hall 213, 3:00 Monday. It was 2:45 now—there was no way he'd get there on time.
Luckily, his advisor was mostly understanding of his absent-minded professor tendencies, claiming James would fit right in once he finished his dissertation and became a teacher himself. A quick text conversation resolved the issue, and he pulled out his pen.
Rhyven Hall 215, 4:00 TUESDAY.
Putting Tuesday in all caps might have been overkill, but hopefully he wouldn't miss another meeting. He did actually want to finish his dissertation and be awarded his degree.
James heard a cup crash to the floor just as the barista put his drink on the bar. When he glanced over, a woman was wiping up the coffee that had spilled on the table with shaking hands.
"Bollocks bollocks bollocks," she muttered.
Something in her voice tugged at James, but he brushed it off and took his own drink. The blonde was pretty enough, but he had his Rose.
A pinprick pinched his skin as he walked to the door, and he glanced down at his arm once he was outside. The quick scrawl froze him in his tracks.
Found you.
James' feet were glued to the pavement and his breath caught in his lungs. What did Rose mean, she'd found him? Where…
He looked through Costa's plate glass windows and met the gaze of the pretty blonde, who smiled and waved uncertainly.
His feet could suddenly move again, and he spun around and ran back into the shop. "Rose?" he gasped when he was standing in front of her.
She nodded, and he whooped joyfully, sweeping her up in his arms. Her laughter in his ear as he spun her around was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.
When he set her back down, she smiled up at him—a cheeky little smile with her tongue peeking out that he instantly adored. "You kept leaving me notes about where you were," she teased. "I was thinking about just showing up at one of your classes or something. Who knew we'd find each other in a coffee shop instead?"