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Harry stared down at his tea, watching as the thin wisps of vapour rose from the cup only to disappear into the warm air of the cafe. This is too much silence, he thought, I have to say something.
“I’m sorry,” Louis said at the same time as Harry asked, “What’s your name?”
“Don’t apologise,” Harry quickly insisted, “it’s not your fault we didn’t meet earlier.”
Louis looked surprised for a second. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I know you really cared about her.” Loved her, his brain corrected unhelpfully.
“Oh… Thank you,” Harry said. He had forgotten that Louis probably knew he was grieving.
This is so weird, Harry thought, a complete stranger knowing intimate details of my feelings. “So… tell me something about yourself?”
“Well… my name’s Louis,” Louis smiled as he began, “I’m a teacher - or was rather, I’m more of a songwriter now. I’ve got a pretty big family - six siblings - and… my favourite colour is blue.”
This was starting to feel like an awkward blind date.
“So what about you? What’s something interesting about you?” Louis smiled encouragingly.
“Um… my name is Harry…” Harry drew a blank. He was still so overwhelmed by the funeral, by Louis, by this damn weird situation.
“Oh come on. You must have something to say.” Louis pressed, “how ‘bout the fact that you’re a photographer? Or that you have two kids and three grandkids? Or that your birthday is February 1st…?”
Harry grew increasingly unsettled. “How do you know all that?”
Louis looked at Harry as though he were being thick. “The Soulmate visions, Haz,” he said slowly. The nickname slipped off Louis’s tongue naturally; Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Harry recalled his own Soulmate visions - all he knew about Louis was that he liked football, had graduated university, and lived alone. “Louis…” the name felt foreign on his tongue, but still easy somehow, “what exactly have you seen in your visions?”
“Lots of things, really,” Louis said, shifting his gaze upward as he recalled them. Then he looked down at his tea and smiled sheepishly, “I reply to them in my head sometimes, the visions. They’re like… little messages from a friend that you’ve grown apart from but still keep in touch with. Like… I’ll get a vision where you’re on holiday on a beach or something, and I’ll think: ‘Oh, that looks like a nice place. Glad you’re finding time to relax, hope you have a nice one.’ Pretending you can hear me somehow,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly. It was strange to finally have a name and face to put to the person he already felt he knew so well in his head.
But Harry was beginning to realise that their Soulmate experiences had been more than a little different. “Wait, so, how often do you get these visions?” he asked, scared to hear the answer.
“Two or three times a month, maybe?” Louis estimated.
Shit! Two or three a month? That’s like 30 visions a year - hundreds in a lifetime. “Oh my God,” he said aloud. Louis raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Louis, I’ve only had ten visions in my entire life.” Louis’s jaw dropped open. “At first I thought it was because you didn’t want to meet me, so you were blocking me out or something.”
“Oh, no no no! I was waiting for you, Harry, I promise,” Louis quickly corrected. “Not that you waited for me,” he added under his breath. Harry heard it.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, Louis?” Harry spat, “Wait for you for decades? Force myself to be alone? Deny myself any form of companionship because the person I’m ‘Fated’ to be with hasn’t shown up yet?” He paused. “Just because Fate fucking… decided we were meant to be, doesn’t mean we have to. It doesn’t mean I’ll even like you.” Shit, that was harsh. Harry regretted it instantly.
Louis was visibly hurt, his eyes glistening as he blinked back tears. So much for ‘one of the happiest days of your life’, he thought bitterly. The worst part was, Harry was right. He knew he was. It was completely fair for him to move on, enjoy life as best he could. Louis thought he had gotten over that years ago, but Harry’s words had ripped all the wounds right open again.
“I’m sorry –” Harry tried to backtrack, but Louis was already standing up.
“Just need the loo,” he said as he ducked his head and speed-walked towards the toilet.
Harry cursed himself for being so cruel – he knew those words would hurt – but he didn’t disagree with what he’d said. It wasn’t his fault they were in this situation; he’d just made the best of it, while Louis… Well, Harry remembered the cold apartment floor, the broken sobs.
“Two or three times a month,” Louis had said, “like little messages from a friend.” This must have been so much harder for him, Harry realised. To Harry, his Soulmate had always been a complete stranger, a distant concept he could ignore if he tried. But imagine, he thought, constant reminders that your Soulmate is still out there – hundreds of visions, deceiving you into thinking you already know them.
Louis stood in front of the sink, gripping the porcelain basin so hard his hands were shaking. No tears, no tears, he repeated to himself, there’s no need for that.
Harry hadn’t said he didn’t like him, Louis reminded himself, he was simply speaking hypothetically. Still, it was obvious that their Soulmate connection meant a lot less to him than it did to Louis. Louis felt sweaty, feverish. He turned on the cold tap and splashed some water onto his face, focusing on breathing evenly. I’ve accepted it, he thought, so why does it hurt so much?
In his state, Louis couldn’t help the images that flashed before him – seeing Disneyworld and being in wonderment at the land where dreams come true, getting high for the first time in a tiny New York apartment surrounded by friends and laughing about nothing and everything, holding a new-born baby and thinking ‘I can’t believe I made this – she’s so beautiful’, dressing up as a clown for her birthday party but not knowing anything except how to juggle and a few cheesy knock-knock jokes…
A thought was surfacing now, a truth that Louis had ignored, squashed down into the furthest reaches of his mind for decades. Louis knew why Harry’s words had been so painful, why he couldn’t make himself move on with Eleanor, and why despite everything, he still hoped it could work out between him and Harry.
“I think I fell in love with you,” he whispered. His confession, like the vapour from his tea, dissipated instantly into the air, with no one there to hear it.
Just then, the toilet door creaked open. Louis quickly wiped his tears away with his sleeve and turned to face the man he knew was about to enter. Harry closed the door behind him and stood with his back right up against it, giving Louis as much space as he could in the tiny room. Louis was looking down at his feet, refusing to meet Harry’s gaze.
Harry spoke anyway, “I’m sorry for what I said, Lou.” The nickname made Louis’ heart rise a little, but he crushed it down. “I know how hard it must have been for you, and I was being insensitive. I want you to know that I never forgot about you, despite what you may think. And… I would love to get to know you better. If you still want to, that is.”
Louis finally looked up in surprise. It was obvious he had been crying, and Harry felt a stab of guilt for being the cause. “It’s okay, Harry,” he said, “you had every right to move on and be happy. I just… had some of my own issues, I guess.”
Louis swallowed down the last lump in his throat, willing his voice to be steady. “I know we’re meant to be Soulmates, but I don’t expect anything,” he said, “But if you’re up for it, I would love to get to know you too.”
They both smiled softly for a moment, the trickling of the still-running tap the only sound in the room.
“Hey,” Harry suggested, “how about we forget Fate, forget the whole Soulmate thing, and make a fresh start?”
A fresh start? Louis was unsure if he could do it, but for Harry he was willing to try. “Alright,” he agreed, “sounds good.”
Harry cleared his throat and, in as casual a voice as he could manage, said, “Hi there, I’m Harry,” and extended his hand to shake.
“Hi Harry, I’m Louis,” Louis said, shaking the hand, “fancy meeting you in the loo.”