Chapter Text
In this world there are some things that are unexplainable. One couldn’t help but wonder, how did soulmates come to be? How do they work? For some they have a date on their wrist for when they will meet their soulmate, others have a sentence that their soulmate says when they first meet. There are some who can’t see in color until they meet their soulmate. But it’s truly special when you can see the strings. The red strings of fate that connect soulmates together, but a sad fate of being able to see the strings, is that the one who can see, does not have any other soulmate charm. One could say that their soulmate less that they don’t have one, and Scott’s willing to accept that. He’s gone his whole life without anything that could give him any glimpse of hope that maybe there is someone out there for him. After a while he gave up all hope that there is someone. But every now and then he lets himself wonder that maybe, just maybe there could be someone.
As he threw on his jacket and walked out his door to his car, he sees the jumble of red strings from the passerby that are going about their day, not having a clue to the red string attached to their pinkie. Once when he was younger he asked his parents if they could see the strings, but they just looked at him like he was crazy. He never brought it up again knowing that he would just get the same response. He’s had people in the past ask him what his soulmate charm was, and when he told them that he could see the strings, they just gave him a look of sympathy and said ‘sorry’ or ‘that’s too bad’. He didn’t really care, not anymore at least. Why should he care when he knows that everything will be okay. He doesn't need others' sympathy, when he already feels bad enough for himself. When he found himself in front of the coffee shop near his house, he decided to get himself a coffee, not realizing that he needed to pick me up.
When he walked into the small establishment he was surprised to find a new barista than the regular one that he always saw. He was shorter than Scott by a few inches, he had dark blond hair, with freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose. To sum it up, he was cute. Really cute. Scott never felt this way about someone before. He always thought that there was no one in this world for him, but all of his beliefs have just come crashing down around him. It only got weirder as he walked toward the counter. As he looked for the red string that was always attached to the pinkie, he couldn’t see one. He reached the counter, and to say that the stranger was even cuter up close was an understatement.
“Hi, i’d like an iced latte, with extra cream, please, if you don’t mind, because if you do then that’s ok, you don’t have to, it’s more of a suggestion anyways.” Scott was rambling, he always started to ramble when he was nervous. Why was he nervous? He was never nervous.
“Sure, and no I don’t mind, the customer is always right! That’ll be $2.30.” The barista said. His voice was like music to his ears.
“Could I get a name?” He asked, unaware of Scott’s current state.
“S-Scott, My names Scott.” He stumbled over the words. How could one person that looks like he wouldn’t even hurt a flea, cause him to act like this? When he walked away from the counter to sit down and wait for his coffee,he couldn't help but admire the barista that was causing him to act the way that he did.
“Iced latte with extra cream for Scott?” The barista called out, as he went to grab his coffee he noticed that he really didn’t have a sting on either of his hands. Now that had him really confused, because even if you have a different soulmate charm, you still had a string, a string that he can’t find anywhere on him. Just as he was going to ask about his string, he realized that maybe, he wouldn’t know what he was talking about, give him that look of sympathy that everyone else does. He didn’t want this beautiful stranger to be like everyone else. So instead he grabbed his coffee, mumbled a quick thank you and walked out the door. Before he knew it he was back in his little apartment, with his shoes kicked off, and his brain empty of thoughts. He had already finished his coffee by the time that he got home, so he went to his room cured up on his bed and fell asleep, hoping that sleep could save him from the weight that had settled on his heart.