How do you know something is meant to be? The simple answer to the question is this: you don’t. When he met her during their video call of an interview- due to the fact he was across the fucking ocean at the time- he would have never guessed how big of a role that she would play in his life. Six months sober and a couple months clean and free of a mental hospital and any attempts made to his life, he had finally turned his life around and he was prepared to move forward at any cost and he had accepted that he would likely never make any friends that did anything more than scratch the surface in his life in a new place where he knew absolutely no one. He had been prepared to drop everything, his entire life, uproot himself at the age of twenty-nine and flee this place, the place he had always called and would always call home, no matter what happened in his time there. The simply fact of the matter was he had become a hollow shell, living in Stockholm, and Stockholm had slowly but surely become a city of the dead for someone who had lost everyone he had ever known and loved. In a split second, just like in the military, everything he cared for was ripped from him and taken out of his hands, never having any kind of control over his own life or over his own mental health. The very reason he had always said that this is all that matters, is here when he turned to religion only for the fact that there could not possibly be anything more than this if life was so terribly cruel. And so, like a bird, he did what everyone else had always done to him- he packed his bags and walked out the door, just like when he had left home after his father had kicked him out after his high school graduation. The move was not difficult for someone who had nothing left and nothing to gain nor lose by leaving the country, aside from retaining his citizenship card. Hazel had been the first friendly face he had met from the moment he had moved in; Hell, she had come bearing house-warming gifts while he was still carrying packed boxes into the home he had constructed for him to move out to, an act of kindness he could not say he had ever received from anyone. After all, nobody had ever given him a gift of any kind, and he had hardly known what to say. In fact, he had barely said anything; at the time, he had been very quiet and reserved, rightfully so. A couple weeks into his time working there, his life brightened by the sudden presence of a certain Russian woman that had walked into his life and into the tattoo shop, he blossomed slowly, forming a budding friendship with the other woman. As it turns out, they were not so uncommon and they had both held experiences in the roughness of life and addiction, of not-so-great parents (or rather, parent, when it came to her) and he had been surprised, pleasantly so, to find that her sense of humor matched his beat for beat. Someone who had been so lost and found his way again didn’t know how to cope with someone caring, at first, and he had tried as he had with Ana to push her the other direction, and it had only failed. Hazel was soft and kind and gentle in her own and she seemed to understand better than most what went on inside of his head- Hell, she had been the first person to realize he was mentally ill before he had even had to speak the words from his lips.
Truly, their relationship that they had built was an absolutely unique one. They got each other and they were able to pick information up without the other ever having to say it. Their give-and-take was equally balanced- if one of them pushed or took an offering, the other did the opposite, keeping it all on equal ground. As someone who had often struggled with interpersonal relationships such as these, he feared, as always, that he might ruin it, fire in his soul and ice in his heart, a truly broken man gluing himself back together. Yet, she expected nothing from him at all and was perfectly undemanding when it came to the struggle that was his mental health. Through the ups and downs of the last eight months, they had endured it together and he stuck by her side, an ear to turn to and a comforting presence. Someone to hug and someone to hold, the one that they could guarantee would pick up on the other side of the line if they were dialed up in a heartbeat, unless in extreme circumstances. Two souls colliding in a unique way that was positively indescribable.
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