Ticking down to a Broken Heart

I'm not as proud of this piece, however I really love the idea and I spent a very long time on it.

Chapter 1: Ticking Clocks and Heart to Hearts

“Calm down! God, you look crazed, just sit down. Drink your cider. He’ll be here.” She tapped at Anna’s elbow, watching as her best friend half stood, half sat, nervously bouncing and eyeballing every person who walked through the door of the bar.

“I can’t!” Anna hissed, her protuberant whiskey coloured eyes wide and staring, “I… I need this to be perfect. I’ve dreamt about it for so long.” Anna’s face was unusually wan, her fingernails more accurately described as stubs.

Freya’s heart ached with sympathy. Anna had been on edge all week. Stress lines were almost constantly etched into her forehead and she had taken to watching every entrance in every place they went in public.

Freya had been there the night it had started. She had gone to Anna’s place, bottle of wine in hand and a head full of entertaining stories about her misogynistic ass of a boss, as was their tradition for Tuesday nights. But this was not a traditional Tuesday night. Almost before she had been able to knock on the door, Anna was there in the door frame.

Any story she’d been about to tell died on her lips as she took in Anna’s appearance.

Her hair was a frizzy tangle, the tight braids had been viciously yanked out and great tufts stuck straight upwards like fuzzy TV aerials. Her make-up was streaked, dark black lines of mascara carving up the plains of her face, and those gorgeous whiskey eyes were ringed in red.

Immersed in the act of taking in the crazed apparition of her friend, Freya almost didn’t notice when Anna held up her left arm, where pulsating, glowing numbers ticked away, as if they had been there Anna’s entire life. The two girls had stood facing each other in shocked silence, until a strangled sob escaped Anna as she’d collapsed into Freya’s outstretched arms.

They’d stayed like that all night, curled up together like cats. The occasional hysterical sobs had wracked Anna’s tiny frame, and unseen, silent tears had coursed down Freya’s cheeks as well. 

Now, sat across from her in the pub, Freya wished she could have stayed in that moment forever.

Protecting Anna from the whole world.

Freya sat quietly, debating over what she could say to help her friend. If anyone could understand what Anna was going through, she was sure it would be her.

“Hey,” she called softly, persistently tapping at Anna’s elbow to gain her wandering attention. Anna watched her warily, as a trapped animal would at the person who had cornered it. Freya almost expected her to narrow her eyes and hiss. “Annie c’mon. I know what this means to you. You know I do. But this isn’t going to do anything other than mess with your head. Just, sit down. Drink.” She quirked the right side of her mouth into a semblance of a smile. In relief she watched as Anna attempted to return it, her full lips wobbling vaguely upwards as she finally all but collapsed into the chair opposite.

Her glass thunked heavily down onto the table.

The background noise of other patrons in the bar lessened a little as people turned to look for what had caused the commotion. Blushing furiously, Anna buried her head in her arms and Freya sighed under her breath, “Shit.”

As the volume increased again from people quickly losing interest, Freya used the relative anonymity the cover of chatter provided to lean over and take Anna’s hands gently in her own.

Lowering her voice so that only Anna would be able to hear her, she continued.

“Darlin’, you’ve been waiting for this moment for as long as I’ve known you. What are you thinking? It’s not like you to get so hung up on something like this. Remember Dan?” Freya questioned, squeezing Anna’s hands in hers when she refused to meet her inquisitive gaze.

Anna mumbled something into the table.

“What?”

Suddenly Anna jerked her head up, looking squarely into Freya’s pale blue eyes.

“I said, this isn’t like with Dan. Or any of the other guys I’ve dated. They weren’t y’know, the one! And I know nothing. Nothing. About them. Not their age, not their name… Oh my God. I don’t even know their gender. Frey, oh God, my dad will kill me if it’s a girl. Kill me and kill them!” She was talking faster and louder, her words spitting out of her like bullets. Her eyes wide, desperate and boring into Freya’s soul. “And, and… what if they think I’m ugly? What if something went wrong and we hate each other? Or worse, we’re incompatible? There are so many stories out there…” She trailed off, mouth parted, eyes lost in the distance while Freya’s heart gave sickening lurch after sickening lurch.

Silence reigned between the two for almost a full minute before Anna’s body gave a slight jolt. Whiskey orbs clouded with worry gazed into Freya’s crystal clear eyes as Anna continued, her voice as soft as buttercream.

“I just… Oh Frey, I’ve wanted this moment all my life. But now, it’s so close and. Freya. I’m scared.” Her voice quavered and died on the last word, as she looked down, shamefaced, at the table.

Stunned, Freya sat stock still, absorbing everything Anna had splurged out to her. She can’t really think all that… can she? Freya absent-mindedly watched as Anna toyed with her fingers where they were still intertwined. The pale and dark digits clutched together resembled piano keys, with Anna nervously picked out a melody on them that no one else could hear.

How could this girl believe someone could hate her? How could anyone?

“Annie,” she stood up and walked over to Anna’s side, delicately lifting the girl’s head up to look into her eyes. “How could anyone hate you? I’m serious,” she added as Anna made a face. “You’re gorgeous. Whoever he is, he’s gonna be thrilled that it’s you! You’re so clever, and you’re ridiculously kind. Anna, you stopped in the middle of the night, in the middle of the road when you were on your own, because you thought a leaf you had run over was a mouse.”

“Mice are cute,” Anna weakly protested, looking down at the table, blushing, as Freya paused to breathe, making her roll her eyes.

“Mate you’re proving my point. Just, come on. It’s okay to be scared. I think everyone in this situation gets scared. But your worry shouldn’t be that he’ll hate you, because no one could.”

Nervously, she added in a fake breezy tone, “And hell, if he turns out to be an ass, you can always ditch him and run away with me.”

Anna finally giggled – weakly, but it was there – and her face lit up with a small smile. “Thanks Frey. You always know how to cheer me up.” The girls embraced, Freya planting a light kiss into Anna’s springy curls.

Drawing back, she reclaimed her seat on the other side of the table, and plastered a wide (fake) smile on her face. “So, how long do you have?” she asked casually, burning to know how long left she would have with her best friend.

Anna just lifted her left arm in response, where glowing numbers pulsed ever brighter: ten minutes, forty six seconds.

In just under eleven minutes, Anna was going to meet her soulmate. 

  

Chapter 2: Counting Down to ‘Happy’ Hour

Thirty minutes, fifty two seconds.

His soul clock kept tick, tick, ticking down, silent to everyone, even him. But he couldn’t help feeling as though the broken water fountain in the corner of the room was mocking him. The glub, glub, glub of the water leaking out of it a mockery of the internal time bomb ticking down in his head.

Twenty nine minutes, forty eight seconds.

Resisting the urge to grind his teeth, Nathan’s only outlet for his irritation was to briefly make a fist underneath the oak conference table. In a room full of lawyers, it wouldn’t do to show any weakness of emotion. Especially as he stood to lose so much more if his soul clock were revealed at this late stage.

Nate didn’t want a soulmate. It didn’t seem worth it. A stranger that was supposedly the love of his life, just because a twist of fate meant that their eyes would meet at exactly the moment a timer on his arm determined? A stranger who would almost definitely expect a romantic bond immediately, and insist on becoming a part of his life? A stranger who he might have to put his whole life on hold for?

He was already being forced into giving up his perfect future for a stranger. He couldn’t bear to give up what was left to another.

Growing up, he had never been as interested in soulmates as everyone else. It was something he’d never considered. His parents weren’t soulmates and they loved each other, more than any soulmates he’d ever seen. His dad would buy his mum flowers every month, hiding them behind his back every time and presenting them to her with an exaggerated flourish and a bow, making his mum giggle and blush every time without fail. Sometimes he’d catch her stroking the petals gently when putting them in a vase as his dad tucked into the dinner she’d lovingly made for him.

For as long as he could remember, he’d wished for a future like that. A love as pure and happy as his parents had.

He’d almost had it too. 

Julia sat across from him. The wide expanse of glossy wood stretched endlessly between them, her blonde hair perfectly ironed straight, as it had always been. She had come straight after work, if the simple black blazer was any indication, and her manicured, unencumbered fingers were lightly tapping on the varnished wood. She hadn’t looked at him once since this whole thing had started.

She hadn’t looked at him since she had met her soulmate.

Nate had met her during his first year at university; she was older, already in her third year, volunteering as a ‘helping hand’ for the poor, overwhelmed freshers. He could remember it so vividly, as if it were only yesterday. She was wearing a pink shirt with ‘helping hand’ written large across her chest and she was smiling wide, bright and beautiful right at him. He could remember never wanting her to stop smiling.

Led around by his cock as he had been, he’d thrown many a party or bar crawl in the hopes of getting her attention. But he’d always drink too much trying to get up the nerve to ask her out that he forgot what he was trying to ask her.

Back then he’d thought he stood no chance at being with her. Every time he had tried, something got in the way.

Then, one night, fate had smiled on him. Nate had drank so much at his flatmate Johnny’s twentieth birthday party that it was all he could do to get into his bathroom before he vomited the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet. To this day, he couldn’t even see whiskey without his gag reflex being triggered. He’d been ill for an entire week and almost sworn off drinking, but he was convinced the entire hellish experience would always be worth it, because that was the night she had stayed with him. All night long, as he had come up for air in between bouts of vomiting she had been there. Brushing his sweaty fringe away from his face, bringing him glasses of water, and listening as he drunkenly rambled on and on about how much he liked her smile. 

She had sat and listened to his drunken drivel, the disgusting belching and retching he had released into the toilet, and then slept on the floor next to him when he’d eventually passed out into a drunken torpor. In the morning she had still been there, told him what had happened, everything he had said.

A week later they went on their first date.

Now, he was sat across from her in an impersonal conference room, white washed walls reflecting the harsh glare of cheap light bulbs and their lawyers negotiating terms of a divorce settlement while she wouldn’t even look at him. He wished he’d been more interested in the idea of soulmates.

Twenty two minutes, fifteen seconds.

Miserably, Nate began softly tapping at the underside of the conference table, the beats mimicking the seconds ticking down on his arm. Tick, tick, tick, tick. Frustration welled up inside him, each moment of their happy life together now another wound to add the list. Death from a thousand cuts.

Memories flitted through his mind, each one being met with the thunk of his wedding ring against the underside of the table. The first time she told him she loved him, two weeks after their first date in post-sex bliss, her hair tickling his arm, her smile ingrained in his mind. Thunk. His proposal to her on his graduation day, the dry summer heat making him sweat in his cap and gown, her smile more blinding than the brilliant sun. Thunk. Their wedding day, talk of children, buying the flat. Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Her smile.

She had someone else to smile at now.

“Is everything alright Mr Fellows?”

Eighteen minutes, fifty four seconds.

His lawyer was looking at him questioningly, sympathy all too evident in her polite gaze, her pale hand delicately resting on his shoulder. She was clearly inexperienced at this job. Her professional attitude was just a touch too tentative, her emotions a shade too visible. Nate wasn’t about to complain though, if only for the fact that it meant she was cheap, but also because she was so very human. With bags under her eyes from stress and the way she bit her lip from nerves when she received a dressing down from her boss earlier, Nate couldn’t help but be glad that at least the lawyer he had was genuine.

“What is it?” He asked resigned, ignoring Julia’s lawyer’s snort of derision. His designer stubble and platinum cufflinks were enough to show that he certainly hadn’t been cheap. His rolling eyes and sarcastic comments when Julia was trying to sidebar with him a few weeks ago had almost made Nate punch him.

But only ‘the best’ for Julia.

Which apparently no longer meant him.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over him. If at the end of the day they both signed the contract, then that would be it. He would officially be a divorcee. He’d spent so long trying to fight it, hurling hurtful words at Julia, begging her on bended knee, scheming with his lawyer, threatening hers. 

Through it all she had remained resolute, and he…

He was tired.

“The final offer that appears to satisfy both parties is as follows: you, Nathan Fellows, may reside in apartment twenty three, Silverside Street until the end of next month, May thirty-first. By this point, you must both have your affairs in order and be living in separate abodes. You both being named on the rental agreement ensures that the property cannot be legally listed on the housing market until this point. As and when the apartment sells, you will both be entitled to half the profits from the sale. There is to be no alimony paid to either party, both of you holding stable sources of income. Is this acceptable to you, Mr Fellows?”

He was so fucking tired of it all.

“Yeah. Sure, whatever.  Just, where do I sign?” He ran a hand down his face absent-mindedly, using the casual movement to quickly take a moment for himself. His eyes burned with a dull fire as he closed them. The late nights of drinking and despairing over long hours staring at screens of legal jargon for the last few weeks were finally catching up with him. As his left hand brushed over patchy stubble he blithely noted that he needed to shave…

His left hand.

Shit.

Hurriedly, he dropped his arm back below the conference table, hoping beyond hope that his monumental fuck up had gone unnoticed. Luckily, at the first syllable of his agreement to the terms, both lawyers had turned to the legal document on their laptops, quietly arguing together in legalese.

Cautiously, he let out a pre-emptive sigh of relief. That careless movement might have cost him everything. It was well known that men never fared well in divorce settlements when soulmates were involved, never-mind the fact that Julia had only called for the divorce once she had met hers. 

She’d cleverly neglected to mention that little fact to their lawyers.

The only reason he’d never mentioned it himself was because he’d thought that if he kept her secret, she’d come back to him.

Julia, who had not spoken to him, not looked at him, could barely be in the same room as him. Who was currently looking wide-eyed with shock, right at his concealed left arm.

Shit.

Panic ripped through him, his guts turning to lead and his blood freezing inside him. If she said anything, a single allusion to the pulsing mark on his arm that was currently displaying twelve minutes and fifty eight seconds to go, he would lose everything. The apartment, the money, but worst of all, he would lose her forever. Julia believed in soulmates with everything she had. The only reason she’d agreed to marry him was because she hadn’t thought she’d meet hers after turning thirty.

Which was why it had been such a shock when the first shadow of her soul clock appeared two months ago.

Silently, Nate begged her not to oust him. He could almost feel the brainwaves he was sending her, the frantic SAY NOTHING reverberating through his mind. For the first time in two months, fate decided to favour him. Julia’s mouth turned up at the corners, in a very weak attempt at a reassuring smile, her confused stare softening into a kind grimace.  Throughout the signing of the documents they both remained silent, the weight of the happy years they had spent together was too raw, too hurtful.

God he wanted to fall into a pint glass and never crawl out.

Ten minutes, forty three seconds.

“Nate.” Her quiet utterance from behind him stuck him in place more effectively than superglue. His hand paused over the door that would lead him out onto the street and into the welcoming arms of the pub opposite.

 “I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was low, a warning not to push it, for Julia to leave him the fuck alone. She’d gotten what she wanted.

“How long left?” She couldn’t help herself. That pushy nature was one of the things that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.

“Ten minutes,” he admitted quietly, suddenly desperate for someone to talk to about this, all the fear and hurt he’d been bottling up for weeks welling to the surface. “What do I do?” He asked, voice cracking with exhaustion, biting his lip in despair.

“It’s a guarantee, Nate hon. Once the timer starts, there’s no way to stop it. You’re going to meet them, it’s fate. So just… Just be you Nate. Who you are is and will always be enough.” He knew she would have that sympathetic smile on her face, the one that made him want to be reasonable in spite of himself.

“It wasn’t for you.” He whispered, pushing open the door and escaping onto the street, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t follow him out.

Slowly, he crossed the street and dazedly walked into the pub, The Black Bess. Immediately he was lost in a fog of voices. Loud and carefree, the air thick with the laughter of the tipsy, and the soothing tones of the designated drivers. He hated the happy atmosphere, envied the light-hearted patrons their non-existent problems. If the need for a pint weren’t so strong he would have turned around and left, possibility of running into Julia or no.

With eight minutes, twenty six seconds left, Nate sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.

Chapter 3: All Out of Time

Whilst they’d been chatting the bar had filled up, the bustling Friday post-work crowds brought in by the rapidly darkening sky outside and the merry atmosphere the pub exuded. Conversations and drinks were flowing, and little snatches of lyrics to some crappy, 00’s pop song could be heard every now and then.

Freya tore her gaze away from Anna’s outstretched arm, her heart thumping unsteadily in her chest. Neither girl knew what more could be said. There were no more assurances she could give without them feeling like empty promises. Neither of them knew what this person would be like, and there was no guarantee that it would be the fairy-tale romance Anna so desperately wanted.

In silence, Anna’s gaze fell to her hands on the table, where she began idly picking at the ragged, stubby ends of her fingernails, occasionally biting her lip. Freya used the opportunity to study her best friend more fully, committing to memory the delicate curve of her neck, the fragile nubs of her collarbones just peeking above the neckline of her top. She would miss the amusement of finding out what slogan or graphic art would be on Anna’s t-shirt of the day, and the little giggle Anna would give when Freya rolled her eyes at it. Feeling the tightening of her eyes that threatened tears, Freya quickly focused on the other patrons of the bar. Her distressed gaze meeting that of a man who had just walked through the door.

At first, Freya wasn’t sure what about the man had caught her eye. He was rather plain looking, tall but not overly so, with scruffy blonde hair and the unkempt beginnings of a scraggly beard. His clothing was nothing of note. A cheap, crumpled suit, the type that failing business men wore. Everything about him was completely average. Except for his expression. Amongst the  jovial, drunken pub goers, his blindsided, wounded expression marked him out from the crowd. His dazed, stumbling footsteps heavy on the sticky wooden floor, as he shuffled over to take a seat. He sat alone at the bar, a tragic, isolated figure.

Freya’s heart went out to him. He looked about as haunted as she felt.

Tearing her eyes away from the solitary figure, she checked Anna’s soul clock. Eight minutes, twenty six seconds. Breathing unsteadily, she allowed herself a few moments to indulge in her misery, memories flickering through her mind of every day she and Anna had spent together. 

Ten years of friendship, from secondary school, through university and different careers, an undercurrent of feeling running beneath every interaction they’d ever had. Anna had always been oblivious, and now she always would be. Freya was too scared to ruin the friendship she had come to rely on as much as air. Too scared to put Anna in a position where she would have to choose, her fate-given soulmate or Freya, and too scared to know what the choice would be.

Pulling herself together and blinking away the tears that had begun to form, Freya pasted a shaky smile on her face, and reached out to gently still Anna’s frantically tapping fingers.

“So, do you think it’s anyone in here?” she asked, inserting as much faux cheer into her voice as she possibly could. Anna, recognising the distraction for what it was and clinging to it like a lifeline, began scanning the crowds. Her eyes skipped past the lonely figure at the bar who was now sitting with his back to the two girls.

“Maybe… maybe that one?” Anna said cautiously, shyly pointing at a man close by, who was sat with his arm around one of his friends, his head tilted backwards in laughter. He was certainly Anna’s type: tall, dark hair, classically handsome, but with his face in side profile to the girls…

“Do you not see his fuck off massive nose?” Freya quirked her left eyebrow sardonically at Anna, her voice lowering as she attempted to conceal her disparaging comments from the man in question.

“Frey!” Anna let out a surprised giggle, the comment startling a smile onto her face.

“What? It’s huge!” The two girls burst into laughter, startling the man and his friend, who then looked over, which only increased their laughter.

“Besides,” Freya managed to pant out when her laughter had subsided a little, “He’s definitely too old for you, he’s gotta be around forty!” Anna and Freya grinned at each other, the little spark of light heartedness a welcome distraction as they began a game, taking it in turns to point out different patrons as ‘Anna’s potential soulmate.’

“What about him?”

“Eurgh god no, his hair is longer than mine! What about him, in the corner.”

“Seriously? You and your height thing, he’s like seven foot, you’d literally have to climb him like a tree! What about him over there?”

“Really? He’s got no neck. It’s all chin! What about that one there?”

“Annie, that’s a girl.” Despite the smile on her face, Freya’s heart was in her throat, her stomach like lead.

“I know. Just… well, a soulmate is a soulmate isn’t it?” Anna’s worried lip biting made her seem so young. “If it is a girl… well, they’re the other half of my soul aren’t they? How could I be unhappy with that?” Her face was determined and Freya’s heart broke all over again.

“How long?” Freya asked quietly, unable to look Anna in the eyes.

“Two minutes, six seconds. Oh god, I can’t do this. Freya, oh fuck, shit, fuck I can’t bear it, why does no one ever mention how fucking terrifying this is?” Anna was panicking; her leg bounced under the table, getting ready to bolt from the pub, her hands mussing up her hair.

“Anna, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got the timer, it’s fate. You’re going to meet them, there’s no avoiding it, so look, go to the bar, get a drink, it’ll settle your nerves.” Freya felt exhausted, emotionally wrung out, unable to hide it anymore.

Every time she thought about it she just wanted to scream and cry and hit things.

Instead she remained encouraging, watching as Anna made her way to the bar, struggling to push her way past the scrum of people there, all of whom were engrossed in the football game playing on the television.

One minute, forty seconds.

Anna looked back at her, annoyance written large on her face as she shrugged at Freya and began making her way back to their table. Freya just shooed back at her, ignoring Anna’s frown. 

She was running thin on kindness but didn’t want to snap at Anna. It wasn’t her fault. Not really.

Again Anna tried to elbow her way through the scrum of people at the bar, her movements becoming more and more frantic as the clock on her arm kept ticking down. Frustration and anxiety warring on her face, Anna finally saw a gap in the crowd and quickly darted through it, Freya could see her sighing in relief, then immediately checking her arm.

Three, two, one…

As the soul clock struck zero Anna and Freya, who had been keeping up with the countdown in her head, frantically scanned the bar, just as Nathan’s head came up to look round as well.

Anna and Nate’s eyes locked, Freya watching silently as they moved towards each other in a daze, a tear breaking loose as Anna and Nathan reached each other. Defeated, Freya rolled up the sleeve on her left arm, and removed the chunky bracelet that had sat there from the moment she had met Anna.

The scarred remnants of her soul clock hadn’t changed in ten years.

00:00.