#mikaylawrites

His eyes caught hers, losing himself in the deepest shade of blue that he’s ever seen. She had never been around the café before, at least, not when he was around. He would have noticed an ethereal beauty like hers before now. Her voice danced through the warm air of the café’s walls. It was low, soothing in a way. The kind you would want to speak to a man in pain. She stood at the counter, legs parted only an inch. Her boots were dripping with melted snow, and the leggings she wore were slightly darker right above where the boots ended from the snow she had likely stepped in. His eyes travel slowly up her slender calves, following the line of her thighs to the tight bum that was holding her pants up. Going further upwards, her figure was lost in an open jacket and a loose knitted sweater. Her neck protruded from the neckline, stray hairs falling from the messy knot upon her head. Even from the distance, he noticed the multiple gold studs that were in her ears. “Witches brew, no milk, one sugar” She says gently “And one of the vegan muffins” “right away! I’ll bring it out to you as soon as it’s done” the barista says, grabbing a cup and a sharpie “Can I get your name?” The syllables fell from her lips, and Armitage closes his eyes, saying her name in his head a few times. It was a beautiful name, it suited her. He looks down when she turns, facing the seating areas. Her eyes flit over the slender, orange haired man in one of the seats, a quilt that was supplied by the café was folded and resting on the bench behind him. In her brief assessment, she notices the peaks of a tattoo from the tops of his collar. She hides a smile, walking and moving to sit on the opposite side of the café, where she would have a good view of him without it seeming obvious that she was staring. Her tote-purse drops into an empty seat, and she curls up on the bench that rested against a window. She pulls out her silver laptop with a dark grey case on it, the logo shining through the contrasting shade, a notebook follows, and she sets up the table accordingly as she shifts out of her jacket. “Witches brew and vegan muffin!” the barista says happily as she bustles over, setting the mug and the plate onto the table. “Thank you” The girl says gently, pulling out her headphones from her bag. “No problem, just call if you need anything” She says with a smile, moving and coming over to Armitage “Need a refill?” “Yes” Armitage says, glancing up from his laptop “Hold the espresso” “Alrighty!” She grins, grabbing his empty mug and taking it behind the bar. His eyes trail to the girl once more. He was clearly older than her, she couldn’t be more than her early twenties, and judging from the textbook she had on the table, she was a local university student. He took more of her in, her bangs swept to the side so she could see. She wore no makeup, nothing to accentuate her high cheekbones and her strong jawline. Her nose curving slightly at the tip. Her lips were a gentle pink, not offset from the tone of her skin. From the front, he could see her collarbones and clavicle protruding under her skin. He doesn’t notice that she’s looked up from her laptop, holding her tea in his hand as he admires her. The shy smile she gives him flusters him for the quickest of moments. He doesn’t return the smile, but simply nods in response. ~ For months, their only interactions were the smiles and nods they gave each other when they first arrive in the café. They were aware of each other’s presence, and often found comfort and solace in each other’s company. Each visit she made to the café, he was there. She learned more about him each time as well. With the warmer months came him with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. She always became captivated by the tattoos that covered his pale skin. The more she came in, Armitage found himself using her as a muse. He kept finding little bits of her within the characters he wrote through his editing. Be it looks, or mannerisms he had noticed from her, every time he reread his chapters, she jumped out at him. His family had never been supportive of his writing. He was born out of wedlock, though no one, not even him, could consider himself a love child of anyone. Maybe if he had grown up with his mother, he would have known love or kindness in his life. But he had not once met his biological mother. His father and his wife were soulmates. They had been together since childhood, but even so, his father had been unfaithful to the woman he was supposed to be with for his lifetime. Armitage had known these facts for his entire life. His stepmother would never let him live it down that he was a child born out of adultery. His father had trained him as a child to be a military brat. His father wanted him to pay for being born by bringing some form of redemption to the Hux name by becoming a high-ranking general in the military. His father was nothing but disappointed when Armitage announced that he was going to become an author. His father was still disappointed in his only child even after the paychecks and the royalty cheques came in. Not to mention when Armitage started to cover his skin in permeant and intricate artwork. Brendol Hux found a further hatred for his son. Maybe more than his wife felt for the child that looked identical to his father. Armitage’s fingers tapped the keys on his laptop, the pale fingers being the only part of his hands that didn’t have black ink on them. He was working on the newest chapter to one of his horror novels, trying to get a rough draft out by his deadline the upcoming Friday. His fingers still when a small figure approaches his table. He glances up from the screen for the first time in hours, the small ethereal beauty standing in front of him with a timid smile, her hand clutched tightly around the strap of her backpack. His eyebrow quirks, and he notices the blush that spreads over her nose and her cheeks. “hello” She says timidly, clenching her fingers around her strap in an attempt to cool her nerves. “Hello” He replies softly, his voice surrounding her like a warm, comforting hug, “May I sit?” She asks, pointing to the empty chair across from him. “Do you not wish to sit in your own spot?” Armitage asks, referencing her usual seat on the other side of the room. “I was thinking we could talk” She replies. “Now why would we do that?” He asks her, his fingers pulling away from the keys before wrapping them around the handle of his coffee mug. “Because I’ve run out of reasons for us not to” She tells him. He lets out a chuckle, taking a sip from his overly bitter coffee “Have a seat” She tries not to rush her movements, pulling out the seat and setting her bag against the table stand as she moves to sit on the comfortable chair. She pulls her knees up, her heels resting on the edge of the seat, reaching under and grabbing the laptop from her bag. “I’m [name]” She says as she opens the laptop, quickly typing in her password with ease. “Armitage” He replies quickly, looking back down to his screen, trying to pretend like he’s not too interested in her being so close to him. They fall into silence, nothing but the sounds of their fingers on their keyboards being heard from their table. There were others milling around in the café, ordering their drinks before leaving through the front door. “Refills?” The barista who they had learned to be Alicia asked. “Yes please” She says gently, looking up and giving the woman a smile. “Yes” Armitage says curtly, not looking up from the screen. Alicia nods, grabbing the mugs and walking away with a pep in her step. When she comes back, she sets the steaming mugs back down onto the table, along with two muffins on a plate. “Muffins on the house” Alicia tells them before leaving and heading back behind the counter. More silence filled the air between them, and she starts to wonder if maybe it was a mistake to join him at the table. “Have you met them?” Armitage asks suddenly. She looks up, eyes widening. Almost as if she was a dear in the headlights. “What?” “What is a very impolite way of asking ‘pardon’” He tells her “I asked if you’ve met them, your soulmate.” She looks down to her wrist, seeing the intricate lace design on her wrist. She looks back up to Armitage. “I don’t know” She tells him honestly “If I have, they haven’t made themselves known to me” Armitage nods, grabbing his coffee and sipping at it. “What about you?” She asks, nodding to his tattoos. “Have you met yours?” “I don’t have one” He tells her after a moment of thinking “I don’t have a tattoo, or a soulmate” “That sucks” “I wouldn’t say so.” Armitage says, shrugging his slender shoulders “It gives me options” “Options are limited when you may be the only one without a true soulmate” She tells him, leaning forward on her forearms that she rested on the table. “Better to have limited options than to be stuck with someone who doesn’t love you” He says simply, and she knew to drop the subject.  There was a bite to his words that she knew would be dangerous to carry on with that certain line of questioning. “When did you get your first tattoo?” She asks him, eyeing his covered arms. “When I was twenty” He says, looking up at her once more. “The first one was the compass rose on my shoulder” “Does it have a meaning?” She asks, closing her laptop slightly, a small smile on her lips. “I was lost when I was younger” He tells her “I was alone, I got it to remind me that there’s a direct route to where I need to be. None of the other ones really have a meaning.” She nods, pulling up the sleeve of her sweater to right above her elbow, showing off the constellation and the cursive lettering. “I got this on my eighteenth birthday” She says, pointing at the quote. “I added the quote last year” “Did you get it done locally?” Armitage asks her, closing his own laptop. “The constellation, no. I got it done when I was in London for my high school grad trip.” She tells him “The quote I got done a few blocks from here when I started University” “I got mine done all over” He tells her “I get one on each book tour I go on. My favorite artist is out in Berlin” “You’re an author?” She asks, eyes widening again “anything I would know?” “I have eight novels on the New York times best sellers list” He tells her with a shrug “I have four others that didn’t quite make it onto the list” “What genre do you write?” She asks, finding the topic that they could truly lose themselves in. “Horror, I have a few mystery novels on my list” He chuckles, rubbing his hand over his face and then through his hair “I have one romance novel published as well, but it’s the least popular.” “Are you bad at writing romance?” She asks him. “Yeah” He laughs “It was my first novel that was published. No one’s first published is their best. It’s why so many authors don’t release a second.” “They get discouraged by bad reviews?” She asks, tilting her head. “Yes” He nods. “How did you get past it?” “I changed genres” He shrugs “I found something I was good at” “Do you like Stephen King?” “You can’t be a horror novelist and not own a Stephen King novel” “I didn’t ask if you owned one of his books, I asked if you liked his writing” “It’s selective.” Armitage says, “I enjoy some of his single novels, and the dark tower series, though I’m not the biggest fan of his short stories” “I liked the Dark Tower Series” She tells him, sipping at her tea “Though I struggled through the first book. I can’t tell you how many times I started and restarted it before I was finally able to get past the first half” “You read horror?” He asks, eyebrow quirked. “Certain authors” She says, “Certain books” ~ After their first conversation, they would meet up at the café to work together. They often worked around her class schedule, and more often than not, he would be her “peer editor” for her assignments. She was an amazing writer, for essays at least. There was never much that he would make her edit. Just a few grammatical errors he’d occasionally help her with, or he’d be her human thesaurus. She adored his company, and she’s not quite sure when it happened, but she moved her seat once more. She ended up curled up beside him, resting against his side while they both typed away at their keyboards. There was a comfortable arrangement between them. They weren’t lovers, though they weren’t just friends. Armitage isn’t quite sure how the arrangement came to be. Her allowing him to hold her while they drink their daily coffee. “When’s your deadline?” She asks him, looking up to him from under her lashes. “Monday” He tells her. “Is everything stressful on a Monday for you?” She giggles. He gives her a crooked grin. “It seems like it, doesn’t it?” “Do you think you’ll get it done?” She asks him, adjusting her position on the small bench. “I think so” He nods, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, typing away with his left hand. ~ The Monday comes, and she’s running late to the coffee shop. Her class had run late, and she was walking briskly down the street, hoping to catch her bus before it departed. She didn’t want to wait another hour for it to come back around. She accidentally steps in a puddle, grumbling when her entire foot up to her ankle becomes soaked. She jogs down the street, holding onto the strap of her bag. She jumps onto the bus, showing the bus pass to the driver before swinging around one of the poles and sitting down on an empty seat. “Wet day out there, ain’t it?” An older woman from beside her asks. “Yes ma’am” She says, nodding. She shoves her headphone into her ear, settling down and pulling a book out of her bag. It was one of Armitage’s early mystery novels. She wasn’t far into it, but she was thoroughly enjoying his writing. She had bought it, since he didn’t want her reading his earlier works. She had to sneak and buy it quietly without his knowledge. After the twenty-minute bus ride, she presses the button, signalling that it was her stop. The bus squealed to a halt, and she stands up. Muttering a quick goodbye to the lady beside her and shoving the book into her bag as she hops off the bus. Trying to avoid another puddle – not that it would matter. Her foot was already soaked. She moves quickly down the two blocks, one right turn and another before she opens the door to the café, her hair dripping wet. Armitage looks up, chuckling at her appearance. He stands from the bench, taking her bag from her. “I ordered you your tea” He tells her, smiling. “Sorry I’m late” She mutters, leaning against him as his arm wraps around her. “I could have come to get you” “I didn’t know you had a car” “I do” “I’ll keep that in mind” “What made you late?” “Class ran longer than expected” She tells him, curling up against him on the bench when he sits down. “Did you make your deadline?” “I did” He tells her with a smile. She lets out a small squeal, moving to her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, leaning in and placing a kiss against his cheek. Armitage closes his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine how her lips would feel against his own. When she pulls away, he looks at her. She was beautiful, even in the dim lighting of the café and the darkness of the rain outside. She was glowing. He doesn’t say anything as she takes her mug and blows at the tea, trying to cool it a little bit so she could drink it. “Are you happy with the novel?” she asks him, sipping at the slowly cooling liquid. “As happy as I can be.” He nods, leaning back and stretching out his legs, taking his own half empty mug and slowly nursing the last few sips. “What does that mean?” She asks, brows furrowing. “Writing creatively with such a deadline puts a toll on anyone” He says quietly “It’s the one thing about being a published author with a writing deal. There’s so many deadlines that I can’t flush out stories or characters as much as I want to.” “Oh” she says, eyes dropping. Armitage nods, leaning closer to her “Want to know my favorite part?” She looks up at him, eyes meeting his “What?” “You” was all he said before he leaned in, his lips pressing to the corner of her mouth, trailing to the side before they were flushed against hers. She lets out a mix between a moan and a ‘oh’ as she presses against him, feeling his arm wrap around her. She would never be able to describe the kiss, and he would never be able to write it out on paper. There were no definitions, no words for what he was experiencing. “Oh” she whispers, her forehead resting against his jaw. Her eyes closed as she revelled in the moment. “yeah” Armitage says lamely, pulling her closer. “I liked that” She tells him, looking up at him with the smallest of smiles. “I can do better” He replies, his lips tilting up into a smirk. “Wanna test it out?” She asks, giggling as she leans in once more to capture his lips. ~ As her school year began to close, she spent more time in Armitage’s apartment. Often resting on his couch or sprawled out on his bed. He always made sure school was her first priority, sex would always be there, but she needed to get her work done. “You sound like my father” She’d always tell him. “I’m old enough to be him” He’d always respond. He wasn’t actually old enough to be her father. There was an age difference between them, yes. But Armitage liked to make it over dramatic, acting as if he were a fifty-year-old rather than a thirty-two year old. But, as her semester ended and the summer began, there was nothing stopping them from being in his bed at all times of the day. Today was no different. Armitage was sprawled out along the bed, leaning against the wall with a book in his hand. He wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. She was curled up into his side, her fingers following the lines of the tattoos on his chest. He arches for a moment, stretching his long limbs out. He always loved the feeling of her nails against his skin, be it gentle like she was now, or when she dug them into the skin of his back and sides. She could never get enough of his tattoos. She could never get more than the two she currently haves. But she loved to admire the artwork that Armitage had decorated himself with. As her fingers move, she examines his tattoos. Stilling on his inner bicep when the black lines become a similar design. The swirls and the hard edges become so familiar that she forces herself to look down at her wrist, seeing it’s match on her own skin. Soulmates. But was it possible? Each soulmate tattoo was unique to the pair. But how could Armitage have the same one as hers? He said that he didn’t have a soulmate tattoo. She opens her mouth, Armitage looking over to her, eyebrow quirked as he waited for what she would say. Nothing comes from her lips, and she thinks better than to bring the subject up. She knew how much he hated the concept of soulmates. How much he truly believed that soulmates weren’t real, that no one, not even fate itself, could determine who would love who. She moves, resting on her knees as she leans towards him, pressing her lips against his in an attempt to distract herself, and celebrate, him being her soulmate. She wouldn’t want in any other way, but knowing Armitage, he would break off whatever their relationship was because he was against the system and didn’t want the fates to prove him wrong. Armitage lets out a groan, closing his book slowly and setting it on the table beside the bed. “What’s this for?” He asks, running his fingers through her hair as he adjusts his seated position. “I just love you” She whispers to him, resting her eyes as she leans in and kisses him once more. “I know” He tells her, holding the back of her head to keep her still. He never told her that he loved her. Although they both knew that he loved her more than anything. But his upbringing, he was left scared to enjoy his emotions, terrified that he one day may become exactly like his father. She smiles, letting out a giggle as she pushes him down onto the bed. Her leg swinging around so her knee could rest on the other side of his legs. She peppers kisses along his jaw, her fingers running through the perfectly neat hair that he always kept immaculate and in perfect order. “Do you think you’ll ever find them?” He asks softly, his hands trailing up and down her sides. “You’re soulmate I mean” “I don’t know” She tells him. “Not everyone finds their soulmate.” “If you did find them, would you go with them?” His eyes held… sadness? Worry? “I don’t know” She repeats, shrugging. “Would you rather have your spouse have the title of soulmate? Or would you ever settle for someone who doesn’t have a soulmate?” He asks her, he seemed like he was trying to ease his mind. “I don’t know” She repeats once more. “All I know is that, right now, I love you.” “You could learn to love your soulmate” He whispers, leaning back against the wall again. “I’m sure I could” She shrugs “But why would I want to love them when I love you?” “They could be attractive” “You’re attractive” “They could be smart” “You’re smart” “They could be everything you want” “You’re everything I want” He holds her eyes, leaning in and kissing her once more. She lets out a small whine, arching herself in towards him. He lets out a chuckle, pushing his hands under the loose shirt she wore. He tosses it away when it’s off of her, her hair falling once more around her shoulders. He could never get enough of her body. The slender figure and the arch of her back, the soft skin of her breasts protruding towards him. His hand trails up her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as he pinches her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t get much pleasure from breast play, so he often kept it to a minimum. The erect buds often gave him amusement though, and she liked his touch in general. Anytime he touched her, she felt like the most beautiful woman alive. He always took his time with his foreplay. He never wanted to rush it with her. “Tij” she whispers, leaning into his touch. he lets out a chuckle, his spare hand grabbing her bum and pulling her flushed against him, the tent in his boxers greeting her heat. ~ She never told him that they were soulmates, and maybe it was a good thing. They didn’t last more than three years when they had the dreaded conversation. “I think we should end this” He tells her, sitting in their favorite coffee shop. She doesn’t respond, but her hands still while holding the mug, halfway to her lips. “We’ve had a good run” He whispers, holding his coffee in his hands, spinning the mug so the dark liquid in it swirled along the walls of its confines. “We have” She nods, her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was a stranger speaking for her. “I don’t want to ruin what we’ve had” He says “But you have so much life ahead of you to be dealing with an aging writer” “I don’t know what to say” She says quietly, searching his face. “Is this why you’ve been so distant this week?” “Yes” He nods “I want you to go out and explore, find your soulmate” Even while he was breaking her heart with his words, she couldn’t tell him that they were soulmates. That they were the ones destined for each other. But she would never want to go against what Armitage truly wanted. “I understand” She tells him, setting her mug down and standing from her seat. “I guess it’s a good thing I never broke my apartment’s rent.” “I guess so” He responds, not looking up at her. She turns, walking out of the café, knowing she may never return to the building that had given her so much comfort in her university years. ~ She had set up the appointment the day after Armitage had broken up with her. She had never been one to cry over boys. She had made it a rule to herself when she started high school that she would never give a boy the power to break her, to invoke tears from her. She never strayed from that promise. It was a Tuesday when she walked into the heavily art decorated shop. “Hey!” A tattooed man says from behind the counter “You my 2:30?” “Yes” She tells him, nodding. “Come on back and I’ll show you what I have for you” He says with a smile “If you’ve forgotten, I’m Jamie” “Cool” She says, following him to the small cubby area that held a chair. She sits down, Jamie twirling on an office chair. “So we’re going to coverup the old tattoo under the mountain, sound good?” Jamie asks. “yes, thank you” She says with a smile. ~ She walked out of the shop, the plastic wrap surrounding her wrist, a slip of paper with Jamie’s cell phone number written on it.