Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respectful owners.

A/N: Soulmate AU, when you write on your skin, your soulmate is able to see it.

Alix isn't particularly having a great day.

As if to spite her, the sun shines brightly onto her face the moment she wakes up, where she's forgotten to draw the curtains close last night when she's doing her homework on her desk. Drool pools onto her hand as she tries to pry her eyes open through her sticky eyelids that she thinks she probably glues them together when she's been asleep. Her body groans with protest as she straightens herself up while she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

And when she finally, finally, sees clearly after rubbing her eyes, she realises she's late for school.

She has fifteen minutes tops to take a shower, dress, pack her books, and eat breakfast.

If she isn't so exhausted -she's been doing laps around the field for almost everyday after school now, timing how fast she's getting every time and she will reach that ten second goal in the hundred meter sprint for the tournament between other people in other schools or so help her- she would have gotten ready in a flash.

She sighs through her nose.


Oh well, skipping breakfast it is.

She's going to regret not eating if she so much feels the prick of gastric pain later or god forbid, faint in the middle of the day.

She hears enough stories on how painful gastric could be, she doesn't want to make a first in everything despite having a natural curiousity in things she's not supposed to do.

She learns that lesson in one unfortunate encounter where it involves her getting grounded for the next month, her roller blades getting confiscated, and the family chef shouting at her to leave the kitchen the moment she so much stands five feet near the door for the next few weeks.

(She's curious to find out if the dough could stop her from rollerblading across it, and she's been using flour to make sure the kitchen tiles are slippery. She was eight then.)

But now, she's sixteen and she knows she has to be responsible when she needs to be because she's not that reckless. She can be polite, and careful, as well as keeping her voice range in check because sometimes, she has a tendency to raise her voice when she feels mildly irritated at said person, and naturally, it doesn't end pretty because like hell is she going to let some snobby jerk move her around like that just because she's a girl and she's short.

She used to hate it sometimes, being short she means. But she deals with it as she grows older, and she learns that people are exceptionally weak in the lower parts of their body that she takes pride in her handiwork when they've been render useless on the floor, whimpering through their lips.

(She's been grounded that day, because she just kicked a son of someone important in the hoohaa during a charity event when she was, what, eleven? Yeah, people are not exactly fond of a boy wailing on the floor when all of them were supposed to keep a professional act on, whatever it is.

Some people don't appreciate modern art.)

And other people don't appreciate her being late to school.

For example, herself.

After all, she doesn't like to make a first in everything.

So, to make it fun, she imagines there's the Sonic theme song blaring in her mind the moment she moves around her room, the sound of coins being collected is heard every time she touches something, up until she's zooming on the roads with an apple in hand as she makes her way to school.

The bell rings the moment she burst into class.

Miss Bustier raises an eyebrow towards her. "Alix. Right on time."

Alix grins, the roller blades still hangs onto her fingers since she hasn't had enough time to put them in her locker. "Good morning, Miss Bustier."

Miss Bustier only chuckles, and gestures generally towards the classroom. "Take your seat, we'll be starting class soon."

Alix nods, bounding her way towards her seat as she tucks the apple in her bag, passing her chattering classmates along the way.

"Hey, Tinkerbell!"

She rolls her eyes at the voice, and the nickname, because it's stupid and she isn't surprised that it comes from him.

"Hercules," she laments, because she's the one who's started all the nicknames and he's the one who's been copying her. Cheater. "What do you want?"

Kim smirks, and sometimes she finds it annoying while other times she finds it plain irritating that she isn't surprised that it doesn't go through his thick skull. "Are you up for another dare?"

She makes a face. "No thanks, I had enough of your stupid dares that it could probably last me a lifetime."

(That's a lie, she lives for the dares. Not just his, but every time when someone so much indicates that they're testing her, she barges through it head on when she feels like it.

But like she says, she can be responsible when needed to be.)

"Oh, come on," he has to twist his torso to talk to her as she makes her way to her seat behind him. "You love dares."

"Well, that's true, but I don't always do a dare, you know," she plops down on her seat beside Mylène, setting the roller blades on the side of her bench before taking out her books. "I have a life."

"But I wanted to see if you made any progress in the ten second sprint," he shrugs nonchalantly. "But, since you clearly have something else to do, I guess this means I'm winning this time."

She narrows her eyes. "How long?"

He beams. "Thirteen seconds."

Her mouth drops. "Thirteen? I'm only at fourteen."

"Well," he waggles his eyebrows. "That's how awesome I am."

She snaps her mouth close again, leaning against her desk as she points a finger towards him. "This evening," she begins lowly. "Our normal place. I'm going to kick your ass with my dust."

He offers his hand then. "You're on."

They shake on it.

It's hours later, and the adrenaline from earlier disappears over time that she's left to stare at the front as Mme. Mendeleieve drones out the lesson. Alix's attention begins to wander as she looks to the side, where her eyes catches on whatever it is that Mylène is doing.

Mylène is doodling on the back of her hand, the blue gel of the flowers stares back at her as the girl has a small smile on her lips. When she's done, she glances at Ivan, where he shows her the same drawing he has on his hand with the same expression on his face, as if Mylène's drawing is copied and pasted there.

Mylène giggles softly, and waves at him discreetly that he waves back.

Alix only stares at Mylène's hand in curiosity.

She hears about the stories of soulmates before, of course. Everyone has a significant other that completes them whole, their other half that has been missing the moment they've been born. It's said that the only clue to know who your soulmate is, is when you write on your skin. Her parents told her when she was younger that they found each other when her father has been writing addresses to the meetings he's been going to onto his palm, and out of pure curiosity, her mother would follow him.

"And I wasn't stalking," her mother defends herself when her father points it out playfully. "It was just there so I followed it," she gave him a smile. "I followed you."

Alix also hears other stories of how some soulmates don't end up with each other. Some stays as friends and they get to together with other people, others are actually family members. The latter brings up a lot of confusion though, since some aren't exactly comfortable with incest. And when she asks her mother about this, Alix is told that they're soulmates because they're bonded. Having a soulmate doesn't particularly mean you have to be lovers, it just means that you understand the other person more than most people, and that you still love them as your family.

Alix doesn't know who her soulmate is.

She isn't sure she wants to know.

She hasn't draw anything onto her hand at all, and it seems that her soulmate doesn't fancy the idea of doodling any parts of their body as well.

She's curious to know who they are, though.

But not right now.

Because now Mme. Mendeleieve just send them a five page exercise sheet through their tabs and they're expected to finish it by the end of her lesson.

Sighing, Alix takes her tablet pen and begins to swipe through the pages.

It looks like they're given more homework to do at home, and she's going through the physics questions again when she slams her head onto her desk, groaning loudly.

(The cheery mood she has just now disappears when she takes a shower. She and Kim gotten themselves a tie in racing just now at thirteen seconds.)

Turning her head to the side, she glowers at the tab. "Why did anyone thought it would be a great idea to give us homework?" She grumbles, tapping the pen on the desk.

She heaves out a sigh, putting aside it before grabbing an actual pen, mindlessly uncapping it before she begins to write whatever it is she has on her mind onto the palm of her hand.

Homework sucks.

She blinks at it, half expects to get a reply. When there's nothing, she snorts, underlining the second word with two swifts strokes before unlocking the tab to continue her work.

To her confusion, she feels some sort of prickling that begins to crawl across her palm, as if bugs are walking on her. When she unfurls her fingers from their naturally curled position, she almost falls from her seat when she sees words that's formed under her own blatant statement without her consent.

I know, right? Homework's a pain in the ass.

She stares wide eyed at the different handwriting that clearly isn't hers, written sloppily across her skin that they're so much different than her neat and tiny ones. Thinking of a reply, she takes the gel pen again.

But before she could write anything, another sentence is formed.

What subject?

Immediately, she begins jotting down her reply.

Physics. I'm stuck at this question and I want to throw my tab away because of it.

She bites her lower lip as she waits for whoever it is to reply, and she feels the prickling again. But this time, it's on the back of her hand and she flips it over to have a look.

I'm doing my English essay. Not exactly my thing, I'd rather calculate than write.

She just did her essay homework, and she rather write than calculate.

Wanna switch places? We'll do each others homework.

She chuckles when the reply comes.

Do your own homework.

She doesn't get the chance to reply when her brother knocks on her door. "Hey, Alix? Dad wants to see you."

"Coming!" She calls out as she stands up, slipping into her gloves as she walks towards her door.

(She makes sure no one knows about this. Not yet, at least.)

The next day, when she wakes up in the morning, she finds out that the writings are gone. At least, the other person's handwriting. Hers are still there, still the way she left them, she guesses whoever that person is tries to rub it off but couldn't.

In the end, she regrets using gel pen, since her hands are raw from scrubbing too hard when she's taking a shower that she tries to remember to use ball point pen in the future.

If there ever is going to be another conversation, of course.

Later, when she's having her usual brawl with Kim, she can't help but notice the way he keeps checking his hands, as if he too, has found out who his soulmate is.

She shoves away the beginnings of something heavy that presses onto her chest and instead tries to pay attention to whatever it is they're learning then.

(She hopes it doesn't mean anything, the weight on her chest, she means.)

Alix has forgotten about it after a while, it seems like whoever her soulmate is probably forgets about it too because it's seven months later since the last time they wrote something to each other, where she's already seventeen and the cold weather is biting her nose and cheeks as she wraps herself up with coats and scarfs as well as hats and boots. She blows into her gloved hands, trying to feel some warmth as she walks towards the park.

She carries a pen everywhere she goes now. It's one of those small pens they sell in a packet, and she keeps one hidden in her jeans pocket just in case she needs to use it. She does use it, but it's never because of her soulmate.

(She's starting to worry they died or something.)

But she knows that's not true, because when your soulmate dies, you would know when. Because it leaves this kind of cold and empty feeling inside your chest instead of the warmth you're so used to. And now, she feels as if there's this tiny flame glowing under her sternum, reassuring her that whoever they are is there with her; she just needs to find them.

She let's out a huff of breath when she sees most of her classmates sitting on the large blanket that Alya says she's going to bring while some lounge on the bench or leans against the tree, their laughter could be heard as Alix walks nearer towards them.

Honestly, she doesn't know why they plan the Christmas party outside when they could all get nice and toasty in someone's house while drinking the hot chocolate she brings, because she can feel the icy cold wind in her bones.

"There she is!" Alya announces as the red haired trots towards her, a beam on her face. "Thank god you came, the other beverages Adrien brought over is finishing fast and most of us aren't exactly thawed properly yet."

Alix snorts, handing Alya one of the bulky bags she brings with her. "Whose idea was it to let us freeze to death in the middle of winter anyway?"

Alya chuckles. "Mine and Marinette's."

"You two make the worst president and co-president," Alix scoffs as they walk towards their classmates. "Next time, I'm going to run for President so that all of us don't die."

"You're only saying that now because you haven't drank anything yet," Alya points out with a laugh. "You have one of these babies," she taps the bag once. "And you'll be amazed at how you feel once you settled down."

"Yeah, well, I'll see what I have to say before we make any assumptions, okay?" Alix smirks as she plops down beside Marinette, where a plate of pastry is shoved into her face before she could see her friend.

Alix blinks at the pastry -somehow still smoking as if it just came out of the oven that her stomach quenches in hunger- before turning towards Marinette, where she gives an apologetic giggle as she lowers the plate down.

"Sorry," Marinette gives her a smile as Alix takes the plate from her. "I know you're freezing, but eating and drinking would help a bit."

Alix gestures to herself with a sweep of a hand, raising an eyebrow at the girl. "Yeah, no kidding." She takes a bite of the pastry and almost moans with relief. "This is good, thanks Marinette."

"Speedy girl here thinks of running for president next year," Alya states off handly as she distributes the cups of hot chocolate towards them both. "Because, I repeat, 'we make the worst president and co-president'."

Alix rolls her eyes. "Well, you guys are letting me freeze."

"You'll be fine, Alix," Nino jumps in as he kneels beside her, wanting to refill his cup when he reaches out for the thermos from Alya. "Just drink and eat a lot and you'll feel much better, trust me," he takes a sip, and sighs in relief. "This is good stuff, my friend. Where did you get this?"

"Family chef made it," Alix takes another bite of her pastry. "I brought a couple bags of marshmallows with me, so you guys can go crazy."

Nino perks up at this. He takes one of the bags and rips it open, plopping three large marshmallows into his cup that the beverage almost spills over. "Thanks Alix!"

She waves it away when he begins to leave. "Don't mention it."

"Sweet! Marshmallows!"

Alix rolls her eyes as she faces him, where Kim makes himself comfortable beside her when he takes the thermos as well and fills his cup full. "And what did you bring, Hercules? At least, I hope you did bring something."

"For your information, I did bring something," he scoffs, dunking marshmallows into his cup as well. "But they're gone now because everyone's using it."

"How fascinating," she tells him derisively, smirking when he scowls at her. "What is it?"

"The cups and plates you're using," he sniffs, making a show of taking a sip. "If I didn't bring them, all of us wouldn't have anything to use when we eat or drink and we'll be really frozen to death.'

"And I'll be blaming you," Alix quips as she finishes off the last of the pastry.

He shakes his head with feign remorse. "So cold, Tinkerbell."

She plucks a marshmallow from his cup, ignoring his sound of protest when she shoves the whole thing into her mouth.

"Hey, Kim!" Adrien calls out, his hands cupped near his mouth. "I bet you can't beat me in arm wrestle!"

"You're on, Agreste!" Kim shouts back as he scrambles to get up, and then looks down to trust his cup to her. "Could you hold onto this for a moment while I'll be kicking his ass?"

She takes it from him. "Only if you let me drink it."

He raises an eyebrow. "Fine, but when I'll come back you have to refill it for me."


He beams at her before bounding over to the boys bear the bench. "Thanks, Tinkerbell!"

(She tries to ignore the way her heart flutters the slightest bit as she watches him go.)


Alix doesn't like the sound of that, and so she ignores the identical grins both Alya and Marinette dons as she starts to stuff another one of the marshmallows into her mouth.

"What's up with you two?" Alya continues as she nudges the pink haired girl in the arm, but Alix is firm in not talking as she continues to chew. "You two look, I don't know, kinda tight, you know?"

"No." Alix deadpans.

"Really?" Marinette teases. "It looks like you've been quite close."

Alix turns towards her with an eyebrow raised. "And when are you going to hook up with Adrien?"

Immediately, the grin drops from Marinette's face, and the red tint on her nose begins to spread vividly onto her cheeks. Alix snickers when Marinette starts to stutter some excuses, trying to hide behind the red scarf she's been wearing the whole time.

(So maybe, Alix likes it when she and Kim get a little touchy than usual, but like hell is she going to let others point it out to her.)

You know, we've never actually introduced ourselves.

It's late, and Alix's supposed to be asleep by now as the clock glares on her bedside table, showing her it's well past midnight and she has school tomorrow.

She feels the familiar prickling of her skin as they answer.

Well, I can't just tell you who I am.

She snorts softly from where she's leaning against her headboard, the lamplight beside her is already enough as she begins to write a reply on the back of her hand.

What do you propose, genius?

It takes a while for them to answer, and she's contemplating on whether or not to harass them when she feels it.

Simple. Are you a guy or a girl?

A guessing game then. Smart.

Girl. How about you?

Guy. Age? I'm seventeen by the way.

She stares at the number and the acronym. Writing in short form would be easier for the both of them, it'll save skin, and it won't be a bitch to rub it off later.

Same. Which school?

The answer doesn't come as fast now, and when it does, it's written along the inner side of her arm.

Classified. I don't want you to stalk me or something.

She scoffs.

Please, don't flatter yourself.

It continues for a while, and they keep talking whatever comes to mind while steering away from names, until she begins to nod off as sleep consumes her.

(She's tempted to ask, about his name she means, but she isn't sure she's ready to tell him about hers when he asks.)

The next day, when she's half asleep from the lesson, Alix checks around discreetly to make sure no one's paying attention to her, before taking out her ball point pen and begins to write on her palm again.

Physical appearance. What do you look like?

The answer appears almost immediately.

Sinfully handsome, tall, and I dyed my hair.

She rolls her eyes.

Disgusting. I'm most likely shorter than you, and I dyed my hair too.

My soulmate is a gremlin. How disappointing.

After using the back of her hand, she lifts her head again to see if anyone's watching her, and quickly rolling her sleeve up before biting back a reply.

And my soulmate is a vain giant. That's even more disappointing.

Whatever. At least I'll be faster than you when I walk, because long legs and all.

Ah, yes. Stomping around and announcing your presence everywhere you go. How considerate.

You're mean.

But you're stuck with me.

Don't these things have an option button? Can't I change my soulmate? Someone who's nicer to me and won't call me names?

Fortunately for me, no.

"Miss Kubdel?"

Hiding a grimace, she looks up to where Miss Bustier is looking at her, as well as the rest of the class.


"Is there something you want to share?" Miss Bustier asks as she lowers down her hand from where she's been writing on the blackboard. "Because I would love to see what you're writing."

Alix hides her arms from them all as she lowers them to her lap, where she quickly pulls down her sleeves to hide her inked skin.

"No, Miss Bustier," she replies lightly, giving her a small smile for perks. "Nothing important."

Miss Bustier gives her an even look, before smiling as well that Alix knows she won't like. "If you're talking to your soulmate, tell them that you have class and I'd appreciate it if you pay attention to my lesson."

There's gasps of joy from her classmates, and Alix doesn't bother hiding the wince this time.

When Miss Bustier continues writing on the blackboard, Kim turns around to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "You didn't tell me you found your soulmate."

"It's none of your business," she whispers back.

(She doesn't say it, but she notices the way his emotions shifts after that, as if there's disappointment under the curiosity he shows.

She thinks it's odd.

Why would he be disappointed?)

"Go away, Hercules."

"Why didn't you tell me you found your soulmate?" He demands as he follows her towards the cafe they usually hang out after school, and she welcomes the heat from the shop the moment they step into place.

"Like I said before," she slips her way through people and chairs alike, making their way through the counter. "It's none of your business."

Soulmates are considered as sacred to them all apparently, even though it happens to everyone everyday. It's a public thing now, where it even becomes a game to everyone to find out who their soulmate is, especially when it comes to guessing the celebrities' soulmates.

She thinks it's all very disturbing and that they wouldn't have any personal space to themselves.

"And you were actually writing to, whoever they are, in class, when we were learning," he huffs out a breath. "Just who is this person anyway?"

She snorts. "Since when did you care about learning? And I was curious about him, so I thought I start a conversation with him."

They line up behind a man ordering his coffee. "In the middle of our classes."

She props her gloved hands onto her hips. "What's your problem? So what if I wanted to talk to him, is that a crime?"

"The fact that Miss Bustier caught you is a crime. So," he crosses his arms. "What's his name?"

She scoffs as she faces forward, away from him. "Even if I knew, I'm not going to tell you."

"Wait, so, you don't even know this guy's name? And you're just having a conversation with him as if you've been best buds for life?"

"Look," she seethes, shooting him a glare. "I don't know what your problem is, but whatever we're doing, it's none of your business, yeah? So, fuck off."

"I'm trying to make sure your soulmate isn't some creep-"

"Oh, this is just swell," she laughs scathingly at him. "The kettle calling the pot black."

He scowls. "I'm trying to look out for you."

"But I don't need it," she hisses. "Stop it."

They move forward when the man begins to leave. "Look, Alix, just trust me-"

But the last of his sentence is cut off when the man in front of them bumps into Kim, causing the beverage to spill over his mug and onto Kim's jacket.

The man blanches with horror. "Oh my goodness, I am terribly sorry. Here just let me-"

Kim grimaces at the stain, and takes the tissues the man shoves at him. "Thank you. I think I need to wash this up," he nods towards the man, a reassuring smile on his lips. "And it's not your fault, mister, I didn't pay attention to what I was doing."

The man winces. "That makes the both of us, son. I'm in a bit of a hurry so is it okay if I leave now? I have a meeting in five minutes and the traffic going there wouldn't be pleasant."

He gestures towards the windows, where outside, cars are moving so slow that Alix thinks she would arrive to wherever she's going much faster. When Kim nods, and the man sighs with relief. "Thank you, and I am truly sorry."

When the man leaves, Alix pulls Kim to the side so that they let the other customers go first. "There's a restroom there," she points towards the back of the shop. "Use it, and then we'll get out of here once we order our drinks."

He nods. "Alright."

She waits in line again as he walks away to wash up, their earlier conversation still churns inside her chest that she thins her lips in displeasure at the thought. In the end, she sighs in defeat. They shouldn't even have this argument in the first place, but something about what Kim is saying sets off her agitation, as if the thought of him not trusting her fully in these things upsets her. He should know that yes, she's being careful, and she hasn't had the thought of meeting this guy until she knows more about him, and so, writing addresses and phone numbers are definitely things she's avoiding from writing onto herself for now.

When Kim comes out of the restroom, he has his coat taken off while the sleeves of his shirt is rolled to his elbows, where his coat still looks slightly damp that they may have to stay in the cafe for a while to let it dry properly before they set off.

(She tries not to let her eyes wonder over his shoulders and chest, the warmth under her sternum glows a bit brighter than before.)

She's about to make a comment to cover her erratic beating of her heart, when she notices something smeared on his arms, and realises with a jolt that they're handwritings.

She feels a flash of anger at this.

How dare he accuses her when he's been hiding his soulmate from her too?

When he stands beside her, she grabs his arm to show him his inked skin, fury bubbling inside her. "What the hell is this?" She growls, her nails digging into his flesh as she stares at him in the eye while she ignores his wince. "You found out about your own damn soulmate and didn't even tell me while you fucking dare accuse me that I should spill everything to you?"

He lets out a breath. "I was going to tell-"

"Oh, bullshit," she snaps, gripping his arm tighter. "If I hadn't found out about this by accident, you wouldn't even tell me in the first place, you asshole." Her eyes lands on those irregular lines of sentences on his skin. "And who's this person-"

She feels herself freeze, feeling her eyes widen in disbelief when she sees the familiar handwriting.

Her handwriting.


She let's go of his arm and frantically pulls onto her own sleeves, where the similar marking on his skin rests on her own.

She drags her gaze up to his, and he's already realising what she's implying when his own eyes flicker from her arm to his, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the obvious.


His call is desperate this time, but she only whirls around and marches her way out of the door, feeling the blast of cold air onto her face when she pushes the door open, hearing his call a second before the door slams shut behind her.

She tugs her sleeves down again before wrapping her arms around herself, making her way home.

(She should have known.

She should have known.)

She's glad that it's the weekend, where she can easily avoid him when she needs to.

But he calls her though, and texts her, but she avoids them all that she thinks her inbox is going to literally explode from all of them one day if he keeps up on doing it.

She even ignores the messages he leaves on her skin.

Alix, answer me.

I need to talk to you.

I'm sorry for everything.

Alix, please.

She stares at his underlined plea, where she doesn't have the power to wipe them off until he does it, or until it fades away a few days later.

Sighing, Alix pulls down the sleeve again, effectively preventing it from being exposed to public and to the biting air around her. She tugs onto her scarf to bury her face into it more as she walks towards the cafe she ran out two days ago, wanting to be in a cosy place where she's going to forget everything that's happened before this.

(But she knows she can't avoid it forever, though.)

The bells tinkles above her head as she inhales the smell of coffee and other baked goods the moment she walks in, letting them all calm her down for a while as her shoulders sags slightly in peace.

"Don't run."

She snaps her head to the side, and almost walks into Kim's chest.

"Oh, no." She scowls, sidestepping him as she makes her way towards the counter. "Oh, fuck you."

"Jesus, Alix." He breathes as he starts to follow her. "Just, listen to me-"

"Not a chance, Hercules." She cuts him off, relieved that this time, there isn't as much people as it used to be two days ago since it's in the middle of the night. "Go away."

"Look," he stands beside her as she begins to order her drink. "I'm sorry I was a jerk, and I was being completely unfair towards you."

"Really? I would never have thought." She deadpans, giving the cashier some bills. She should have stayed at home and made her own tea -since the family chef is on holiday- instead of coming here damn it.

"I know you're mad," he says in low voice as they wait for her order by the side. "I know I'm being an idiot, but I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't trust you enough, I'm sorry I snapped at you and I'm sorry that we're actually having this conversation right now because we're supposed to be best friends, and best friends aren't supposed to be apologising to each other for doing stupid things."

Alix peers at him, watching the way he sighs heavily through his nose as he runs his fingers through his hair.

"And I," he seems to have some difficulty in swallowing as he avoids her gaze. "I like our conversations we had in our classes, and I'm sorry I let Miss Bustier catch you writing to me when I should be caught too. It's unfair, you know? And I," he looks her in the eye then, his beautiful grey, greyeyes that she finds herself staring into them. "I hope you forgive me?"

She blinks at him, surprised at this turn of events when a minute ago she's telling him to scram after he abuses her trust in him. And now, nowthey're talking like they should be but with more emotion and feeling that she realises she misses talking to him since the day she ignores him.

The weight on her chest begins to lift the slightest bit, and instead of the hurt that has been infesting underneath her sternum, she feels the glowing flame again.

He has always been her soulmate so it seems, she just doesn't know it until now.


He's startled for a while, clearly not expecting her to say that. Hell, she doesn't expect that to be the first word she says to him after his little speech. "Okay?"

"Okay," she smiles, because she's accepting it that yes, everything is just going to be okay. To her amusement, his confusion begins to amplify that she has to clamp down the urge to laugh at his face. "Like you said, we're best friends, and best friends are supposed to forgive each other too, you know."

"Oh," he says softly, blinking at her as he tries to get his bearings back while she takes the cup of hot chocolate from the waiter. And Alix wants to snort at the obvious way the waiter has been listening to their conversation all along. "Oh, okay. So, um, we're cool?"

She rolls her eyes, punching him the arm that he let's out a sound of protest. "Yeah, we're cool."

They begin walking towards their normal seat at the corner of the cafe, where it's blissfully quiet for once that she enjoys it as she sits on one of the chairs.

"After all," she hums as she leans forward, running a swift thumb over his cheek that she grins mischievously at his wide eyes.

"You're stuck with me."