Soulmates. (A (Short)Chenford Story)

Chapter 5. The End

Lucy, unsure, nodded. She didn't make a move. She was unsure in her own home.

Tim sat, and gestured to the seat on the couch next to him. Lucy, spurred into action, rushed to sit down.

"So..." Tim began, as he leaned forward and pulled out the two containers of soup he'd packed, as well as two mismatched spoons. The corner of Lucy's mouth twitched up. If she could have, she would have laughed at the spoons. But she simply couldn't find the energy to—

"I know."

Lucy froze as the words fell from Tim's lips, icy water thrown over her head, cold- no, glacial fingers gripped her spine. Humour's whisper stepped aside for fear, and fear bowed to some semblance of relief.

"W-What...?" She whispered. Once again, she noticed worn fingertips playing on pale chapped lips.

"About you. About me. Us, I guess you'd call it."

Tim's words were simple, his tone neutral. There was no judgement, no expectation for her to react, to perform, to say anything at all, really. And yet she still felt she had to.

She didn't know what to say.

"It's okay, Lucy. I'm not—" he paused. Thought. Began again.

"We're Soulmates, right?"

Lucy nodded dumbly. How had he figured it out? Who'd told him? Was it Angela? It must have been Angela, because her and Wesley were soulmates and there was no way she hadn't known, no way she hadn't told Tim—

"Lucy, stop. I can see you spiralling."

He reached out, paused. His arm seemed to stutter, before a firm resolve settled in his eyes, and he rested his fingertips atop the knee curled under her on the couch. Barely there. Like the first kiss of sunlight on snow. It was, in that moment, enough to calm her. Lucy sighed. Soothed by the light touch on the top of her knee: it was enough (for now).

"My mom told me about Soulmates when I was young. Genny, you remember Genny, my sister? Right, well, she thought the idea was wonderful; "imagine how nice it would be to have your very own prince charming," she used to say. I didn't like the idea of being trapped with someone simply because they'd die otherwise."

At that last part, any light that had once resided in Lucy's dark eyes vanished: all hope, lost.

"But," Tim began again, and Lucy's eyes shot up, "I think growing up, Isabel, my father dying, seeing you after Jackson died, knowing you, I think I've changed my mind."

His final sentence was firm, with a sureness of voice and confidence of demeanor that Lucy only ever saw when he was in control. Calm, collected - rational. Lucy's eyes shot up, hope flaring back to life, resurrected with an almost zealous optimism. Ardour bloomed deep in her soul, starting at the base of her spine, drenching the icy fingers that had gripped her, with such a warm, potent sweetness that Lucy felt burned from the inside out. Hope ground fear to lifeless things, filled Lucy with such... such joy that she nearly couldn't breathe. (She was alive.)

She breathed anyway.

Her hands shaking, she reached for Tim's fingertips upon her knee.

"Do you— are you saying that you—?"

"—I am. I, Timothy Bradford, accept you, Lucy Chen, as my Soulmate."

That joy in her chest (in her limbs, her head, behind her, eyes) exploded into a million fireworks, a symphony of light and sound that danced across the darkness, lighting up the endless sky (she was alive!). That hopeful warmness scorched, marking her Soul, and she gripped at her chest with those worn fingers, the hand not clasping at her chest reached blindly for Tim's fingers on her knee, and she squeezed tightly. Her exaltation was so pure and great, the years of anticipation fulfilled so intensely, she couldn't breathe.

"Lucy? Luce, are you okay?"

Tim's image swam behind her eyes, his silhouette's fingers reached for her face, and soup-warmed fingertips danced across her face.

"Lucy, look at me, I'm here still, please look at me," his voice echoed around her head, the ends of his words lost to the fuzzy periphery of her mind. He grabbed   the hand not on her chest, and placed it on his own.

"Breathe, Lucy, feel me breathe," he murmured desperately. He shuffled closer to her on the couch, cooling soup left forgotten, and tried to get her to breathe. He drew breath and expelled it dramatically, inflating his chest more than was strictly necessary, but he wanted, needed Lucy to feel him breathe, or else she would pass out.

Her hand fisted in his shirt. Her knees shook. Throwing apprehension to the wind, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her unnaturally skinny body to him. He noted, briefly, that she was cold. He wound his arms around her, trying to cage a free bird, trying to trap smoke.

Slowly, though, the pressure worked. The bird calmed, the smoke settled. Lucy breathed again. In, and out, over and over. She still shook. Tim held her tighter, and rocked back and forth as he whispered to her that 'he was here' and to 'breathe'.

Tim found himself reluctant to let go. Lucy dozed off in his arms, her fatigued body finally going limp in his arms, little snuffles originating near his chest. Eventually, Tim slept too, when the adrenaline left his body and his mind quieted.

When he awoke again, Lucy was shifting in his arms. She was awake.

"Lucy?"

"Tim."

It was barely a whisper.

"I'm here. I've got you."

"Okay."

FIN

And that's it!! Soulmates is done!! I hope we all enjoyed this chapter, as it's the last one. Thus has been a pleasure to write, even if the world building was a  little tough. Definitely lots of plot armour.

What do we think of the ending? Do we want an epilogue or is it complete on its own?

As always, vote, comments, suggestions are always welcome - I love to hear your opinions.
That's all for today!! Au revoir ❤️