My Soulmate is a Fucking Klutz

She hadn't believed it at first, that there was such a thing as a soulmate. Up until now, she had dismissed it as a myth, as a legend. And because of that, people always told her she was just upset because she couldn't find hers, that she was pessimistic and doing it for attention. But she really hadn't believed, at least, not until now. Not until she met her.

Okay, once again, I'm so, so sorry for not updating my other story. I'm just having a really hard time writing the chapter, and it's probably going to take me a while to finish it. I'm also having trouble with my In Sickness and In Health, and, usually the best way for me to figure out a solution is to get my mind off it and focus on something else. Then, voila! Inspiration! But, until that happens, my oasis of ideas remains as dry as the Sahara desert. So, I'll just keep writing one shots while I can.

I was really in a Sirina mood today, I have no idea why, but, I managed to write this. Please bear with me on the tenses, it's the first time I've written something in this style, so if I mess up, please tell me where and how so I can fix it here and for next time.

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Characters: Maren (Six), Marina

Pairing: Sirina

Words: 2714

Rating: T

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Lorien Legacies, and I definitely don't own these characters. Also, a tumblr post inspired this idea of soulmates getting the injuries of each other.

Enjoy!~

She hadn't believed it at first, that there was such a thing as a soulmate. Up until now, she had dismissed it as a myth, as a legend. And because of that, people always told her she was just upset because she couldn't find hers, that she was pessimistic and doing it for attention. But she really hadn't believed, at least, not until now.

They say that when you first meet your soulmate, you form a connection with them. Even if you just pass them by on the street, or lock eyes with them for a heartbeat in the grocery store, you'll bond, unknowingly, and you'll be destined to meet again.

She believed in destiny and fate even less than she did in the idea of soulmates. Because, even if there was some kind of higher being, writing out everybody's lives, why couldn't they make it a little better? Why can't they make humanity better? Yeah, that's what she thought.

There was no doubt about it; Maren was a non-believer.

According to legend, or fact, depending on whom you ask, the bond between soulmates is an extraordinary thing. They're all unique in their own supposed way. For example, one pair boasted about being able to hear their soulmate's voice in their head, and it got louder the closer they got.

That, Maren thought, was a load of horseshit.

Another couple claimed that they could feel an invisible string connecting them together, and they could feel its pull as they neared each other. Maren wanted desperately to yell at them, to scream to them that there is no such thing as an invisible string, or hearing voices in your head, and that the idea of soulmates was physically impossible.

But the planet itself just kept on living, hell bent on ignorantly believing in make-believe fairy tales mothers tell their children to assure them that they have a future. It drives her mad, and, as Maren concluded one fateful day, she was living on a planet full of idiots. And there was nothing, no thing, which could change her mind.

Well, except her.

When Maren had started waking up with peculiar marks, including odd, unexplainable bruises and scratches that showed up out of nowhere, her roommate, Hannah, had pointed out that maybe it was her soulmate. Maren had scoffed at that, and, tossing long, black hair over an olive-toned shoulder, spat a "yeah right" and walked away.

She pinned the blame of the mysterious injuries on her rough sleeping, nothing more.

But it kept happening, and it happened at the most random of times. At work, she'd get a sudden black eye. While walking down the street, she'd feel a horrid pain in her ankle and collapse to the ground, and, upon further inspection, find nothing there. She spent the rest of that day limping, trying to ignore the lingering twinge.

Also, one day, while she had coffee at home on a lazy Saturday morning, she was almost swept off her feet by an abrupt vertigo, and she had knocked the chair she was sitting on back and onto the floor. When she pushed herself into a sitting position, she had found that both her elbows and knees were scraped, and her back and sides were badly bruised. There was a fresh, bleeding, cut on her cheek, and she could taste the blood on her newly split lip. Hot coffee had been spilled on her lap as she fell, and she reckoned she'd have a minor burn there at the least. Typical, she grumbled to herself, climbing off the floor and wincing at the tiny, stinging needles of pain that raced through her.

What Maren didn't know was that, at that exact moment, a young woman in Spain had just fallen down the stairs.

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There weren't many more spectacles after that. Or, at least for a few months, there weren't. Even after the incident on that Saturday morning at the start of autumn, Maren still firmly believed that there was a logical explanation to this, and that "it's your soulmate!" wasn't one of them. Hell, she would've believed that it was the creatures of the supernatural, demons, waiting to drag her down to the feet of Satan and steal her soul, before she considered that.

Weeks flew by, and, as seasons passed in a blur, Maren could barely remember the exact day the snow had started to fall, or the day the first forget-me-not had bloomed outside on her windowsill. When spring finally arrived, the heavens had opened up, and rain poured down. It hasn't stopped since.

Fat drops of icy rain pelted the roof of the local Starbucks, and pedestrians huddled under umbrellas and tarps outside shop doors, seeking shelter from Mother Nature's temper tantrum. Dark, ominous gray clouds tossed and turned tumultuously in the sky, tumbling up and over each other, and stirring up harsh winds that pummel the citizens with a force almost powerful enough to knock them off their feet. The smell of rain, of wet, had settled in on the town like a blanket, mixing with the salty aroma of the ocean and frigid sea spray.

Maren watched the people struggle to maneuver through the harsh winds and rain, bored, as she sipped on a bitter latte. She sat in a dim corner of the parlor, curled up on a desolate sofa and staring out the window, thinking to herself, as the hours ticked by. Once in a while, a car rolled past, driving slowly so it didn't kick up too much water, for there were streams of it running down the hill; and spraying unlucky pedestrians anyway.

Days like these were Maren's favorite, when grey fog hung low over the miniature Alaskan town, and foreboding storms lurked above. She loved the damp chill to the air, how it still held some of the crisp frostiness of winter, yet promising warmth of the coming summer.

The clouds were the color of her eyes, and when the bell at the door tinkled it's jolly greeting, Maren turned them to the girl at the entrance.

She had shoulder length, slightly curled brown hair that stuck to the sides of her face and neck, soft, delicate features. A few light freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, and she had the most brilliant brown eyes Maren had ever seen.

Most people considered brown eyes to be the least attractive eye color, but Maren thought otherwise, and this girl's were a perfect example of that. Even from the couch, she could see the way the chocolate brown swirled around an onyx pupil, falling into many different depths of amber, cocoa, and even mahogany.

And when she looked into the eyes of this girl, getting lost in their dazzling brown, she thought, shit, she's beautiful!

The girl glanced around the shop, and stepped up to the cashier, ordering a caramel latte. Her voice carried a thick Spanish accent, and she spoke fast and quietly in broken, choppy English.

Maren thought it was wonderful.

The thought caused warmth to blossom in her chest, and the feeling spread rapidly throughout her, leaving a happy, tingly feeling in its wake. She could feel her chest constricting, and suddenly it became hard for her to breathe. A lump formed in her throat, and she began to feel a little lightheaded, her hands quickly becoming slick with sweat. Blinking away from the gorgeous girl at the front of the coffee shop, Maren struggled to take a deep breath and calm her nerves.

Why was she so nervous? It was just a girl! Get over it, she hissed to herself, reaching out to grab her cold coffee with shaky hands. But instead of the foam cup containing her latte, her hand brushed a thick, soft fabric.

Her breath caught in her throat, and Maren looked up at the gorgeous Spaniard standing right above her. The young woman looked just as nervous as she did, and Maren hoped she wasn't imagining it when she thought she saw a small blush on her cheeks.

"C-can I… sit?" she asked, stunning eyes avoiding Maren's. Maren forced herself to swallow down the growing lump, and it sank in her stomach like a rock.

"Sure," she muttered, turning away and making a face at herself, willing herself to stop blushing. The couch wasn't necessarily big, and Maren and the girl end up pressed up against each other. Their hands brush up against one another, and the girl jerks hers away. Maren flushed once again, distracting herself with drinking her coffee, silently cursing herself again.

The stranger's mouth had screwed up, and she had turned to Maren as if she wanted to talk, but stopped and looked away again. Their silence had quickly become awkward, and now it was almost tangible in the dim, dusty air.

After a while, it seemed that the girl seemed to break under the stiff pressure, and she turned to Maren, fumbling with her hands. "I-I'm Marina."

"I'm Maren," she replied, meeting Marina's gaze. Marina's mouth screwed up again, and she reached up to bite one of her nails; her eyes drifted away, deep in thought. Maren followed her gaze, struggling to keep her breathing under control. Why was she so nervous? She asked herself again, pursing her lips.

"I, um… think you're… very pretty," Marina said, facing her once more, and Maren blushed. She stuttered out a thank you, and looked away, covering her mouth with her hand. "Do you live… here?"

"Yes." There were butterflies attempting to navigate a thunderstorm in her stomach, and the turbulence made her slightly nauseous.

"It is… very… nice here," Marina said, and Maren asked her if she'd been here. Marina shakes her head. "This is… first time… I leave Spain. I do not… speak… good English."

"No, you're actually doing very good!" Maren stumbles over her words to compliment Marina. "Are you going to stay?" Marina nods, giving Maren a heart-stopping smile.

"Yes. I make a new life… here in America. I hope… to meet my soulmate." Marina looked over at her, and their eyes met briefly, then Marina's eyes flitted down to her cold coffee. "Your coffee is… it is cold."

"Oh, yeah, it's okay, really," Maren started to insist, but Marina was already standing up to get another. "You don't have to…" She was too late. Marina was already at the cashier now, and was ordering her a coffee. Maren could barely hear them, but she saw Marina point to her, and talk to the cashier in her adorable, broken English. Marina even paid, and her sweetness made Maren's heart melt, which only managed to confuse her more.

Maren had never felt like this before. She had lived twenty years on this planet, stubbornly dismissing the idea of "soulmates" and of "the perfect match" and "destiny", but, as she watched Marina, she maybe considered it a bit. How ironic, was it, that the two of them had ended up at the same coffee shop. The one person who could make Maren's heart leap up into her throat before she even knew her name, and she was buying her coffee.

Maybe they were meant to be.

And, what was even more confusing was that, the more she thought about it, the more she hoped it would happen, that it was true. By now, she would have ditched that idea, scolding herself for being so foolish, but this time is different.

And that what made it so weird.

Maren just wasn't that type of girl. She didn't become a gooey mess when confronted with a good-looking, nice, stunning person. It was just not like her. It just wasn't in her personality. She was more of a loose cannon, I-work-alone type, not a giggly, bubbly, girl that acts like a fourteen-year-old with a crush. That was just not her.

And yet here she was, turning into the exact opposite person she was, and she liked it.

Her floundering, befuddled thoughts were interrupted by Marina's return. She looked up at her newest friend, and felt her emotions skyrocket once again. "Here you go." Marina handed her the coffee, and Maren thanked her, taking a gracious sip just as Marina exclaimed, "Careful! It is hot!"

The liquid was scalding, and Maren cried out, spitting out the burning liquid. She had surely burnt her tongue, and, not to mention, made a complete fool of herself. As she began to berate herself for the stupid mistake, she notices Marina cried out as well.

They both lock eyes, her grey ones wide, Marina's as well.

"Are you…" Maren started, trailing off. Marina said nothing, and instead covered her mouth.

"Mi alma gemela!" Marina exclaimed, lurching forward to hug Maren tightly. Maren stiffens, shocked, a million thoughts already racing through her mind. They were right; they were all right. There is such a thing. How could I be so stupid, so stubborn? Why did I have to be like that? It wasn't the planet that was living in a fantasy world; it was me.

"Oh my God," Maren whispered, and Marina pulled back, laughing. It's a beautiful sound, like the happy, magical tinkling of a giggling fairy, and it brings a smile to her bewildered face. She repeats herself, a little louder. "Oh my God!" Her eyes fall to Marina's lips, and she is almost overcome by the sudden desire to press them against hers.

Marina seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Can I kiss you?" Maren nods fervently.

"Yes, please." And she does.

It's like nothing she's ever experienced before. Marina is surprisingly bold, despite her shy, gentle appearance. But Maren quickly takes control, wrapping her arms around Marina's waist and pulling her onto her lap. Maren bites Marina's lip, and she moans, leaning in closer and running her hands up and down Maren's back. They pull apart for a few seconds to catch their breath, and then Marina places her hands on Maren's shoulders, pushing her down onto the couch so they're lying down, and resumes kissing with renewed vigor. Maren responds with the same intensity, and they kiss like that until they hear a loud cough from nearby.

Both of them immediately shoot away off of each other like they're radioactive and face the other customers of the shop. Maren can feel a bush heat up her cheeks, and, after glancing at Marina; she can see that the other girl's face is bright red as well. The cashier is grinning, pointing at a sign that clearly states: NO PDA ALLOWED. GET A ROOM. Marina starts to stutter out an apology, but before she can get very far, everyone starts to cheer.

They can hear shouts of "congratulations!" echo throughout the small audience they had managed to gather, and the two girls smile sheepishly, giving each other a look.

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They leave Starbucks together, hand in hand, smiling and giggling like they've known each other forever. Over the past hour, they had exchanged almost their entire life's stories, and they were now getting to the part where they must have saw each other, because Maren starts to talk about all the strange bruises and injuries she got.

When she describes that Saturday morning, the time she fell over and got covered in bruises and scrapes, Marina started to blush furiously. Confused, Maren asks her what's wrong.

"I, um… I fell down the stairs."

"You what?"

"I-I fell down the stairs." At this, Maren busted into laughter, and Marina protested, begging her to stop, and asking what was so funny. They actually had to stop walking so Maren could sit down, doubled over and breathless. "It's not funny! I got hurt!"

"So did I!" she exclaims, wiping tears from her eye.

"Then what is so funny?" Marina asks again, tugging at her jacket.

"I- just, you, falling down the stairs? I just tried to picture that, and oh my God! I had so many bruises and scratches, and not just from that day!" she laughs, her face as red as a tomato.

It's not actually that amusing, when she thinks about it, but at the time, it was hilarious, for reasons that remained unknown for a long, long time.

"But how is that funny?"

"My soulmate is a fucking klutz!"