The things we could've done

The words appeared on Alex's eighteenth birthday, like they did for everyone, and he remembered staying up all night to see them write themselves on his skin. There'd been a sharp kind of prickle, not too dissimilar to the feeling of a quill on his skin, and he'd known immediately what the pain on his collarbone was. He could hardly keep still in front of the bathroom mirror as he waited for the word to become legible but, when they did, he saw a sentence written in a deep crimson red on his right clavicle.

Hey, Alex, we're going to get you through this.

He traced the words carefully with his fingers, grinning like a loon, and finally left the bathroom to show them to his family. His parents weren't soulmates, though they'd always been positive about both soulmate and non-soulmate love, and were ecstatic he had words. His older sister, Bianca, already engaged to her soulmate, was equally excited.

"I knew you had a soulmate out there." She said, pulling him into a hug. "I knew it."

Alex hadn't been so sure, quietly terrified he'd be one of those without words. It wasn't a death sentence by any means but he was a romantic at heart and he'd always wanted someone to love and be loved by. It was the result of having an older sister and only female cousins, he'd swear, but maybe it was because of who he was, too.

Later, when he was in bed, he said the words aloud to himself before he fell asleep. The words weren't particularly comforting, and it made him wonder what kind of situation he'd be in when they first met, but it couldn't be too bad if it meant he got his soulmate at the end of it. Whatever happened wouldn't matter because his soulmate was going to get him through it.

Whenever something bad happened, he'd always rub the words on his collarbone for reassurance. When his dog ran away, when his mum had her health scare and even when he made the stupid mistake of falling asleep on a train and ending up in Portsmouth, it was his good luck charm. He relied on it to know that, no matter what, there was something great waiting for him.

It was funny, really, how he'd already come to love this anonymous person.

"Don't you ever worry, though?" Bianca asked. "You've put her up on a pedestal before you've even met her."

"She's my soulmate." Alex said.

"That doesn't mean everything is sunshine and rainbows."

Bianca wasn't having a good time. Alex didn't know the exact details of it, she hadn't shared it with him and he hadn't wanted to ask, but he knew there were problems between her and her fiance. Namely, why they were still engaged four years after the proposal.

So, carefully, he said, "I know it's not. I'll love them regardless."

Bianca sighed at him. "Just don't get hurt, Alex."

"I won't."

He knew Bianca was warning him for a reason, and he knew he shouldn't get too invested in a person he hadn't met, but knowing something didn't make it any easier. Soulmates were romanticised in the media and in Hollywood. There were the one person who was meant to fill in all those empty spaces, the one who made you realise why no one else had worked out, the happy ever after.

Alex had never wanted anything else. He'd been so certain that he'd never dated in high school or university because he'd never seen the point. It wasn't fair, either, to be with someone knowing he could never see a future with them.

So, when he'd gotten his invite to his sister's wedding, he'd gone stag.

It was a beautiful affair.

Bianca was wearing their mum's dress, walking down the aisle with their father's arm linked in hers. She'd always been beautiful in Alex's eyes but he didn't think he'd ever seen her look happier than she did now in this moment. Her groom, John, stood at the right side of the alter, was staring at her, struck and so ridiculously happy.

That was a man in love.

The story came out later, during the best man's speech, about how John had been so certain that Bianca was only with him because he was her soulmate. He'd loved her, and he still very much did, but throughout their engagement he'd been terrified of holding her back. Bianca was going from strength to strength in her career, already being headhunted by big pharma companies, while he was still studying for his PhD and in a mountain of debt.

Bianca didn't care, though, and swore she'd choose him no matter what his financial situation was. lt didn't matter.

"Mr and Mrs Holland," Alex said, grinning at them when he finally got to speak to them, "I'm so happy you finally got married."

Bianca was smiling, too. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that. It's all I've ever wanted."

"I'm sorry it took so long." John said.

Bianca brushed him off. "I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm really glad we worked through everything to get here."

"You guys are disgustingly cute."

Bianca grinned at him. "Just wait till you meet yours."

Alex at 23 was still very much into the idea of soulmates and he was holding out for his but it was no longer at the forefront of his mind. He wanted to meet them, of course he did, but there was no way of rushing the universe. In the meantime, he'd worked on himself: he'd started taking better care of his body and his health, performing well at work and building up his savings for their life together.

So, though he was surrounded by couples and love, he could genuinely enjoy the wedding celebrations without feeling like he was missing something. He was just happy to catch up with family and friends and share stories of his sister and John. It was a fantastic weekend, the perfect break from a busy period at work, and he really appreciated being able to come back to their countryside home and relax.

He'd booked off a couple of days from work so he stayed at the house until Tuesday evening, wanting to stretch out the days he had at home. And, afterward, he made the long drive back.

It happened in an instant.

One second, he was driving down the old country lanes a little above the speed limit and then he felt the back of the car slipping on the road. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered diesel on the roads and it was almost second nature to turn the wheel a little and correct the car. Only, then he was sliding the other way. He was fighting the car to regain control. It was like he was aquaplaning and his tyres had no grip, and it was all he could do to jerk the steering wheel again and hope it corrected itself.

The car wobbled, he slammed on the brakes, and his tyres screeched on the tarmac. He didn't see the crash railing or the trees or even his life flashing before his eyes. All there was was a bang and a crash and then his car jerked to a sudden, sharp stop and all he knew was the blackness

Alex came to slowly.

There was a throbbing pain in his head which he concentrated on to pull him back to consciousness. He regretted it instantly because now he was suddenly aware of just how much his whole body hurt. He tried to open his eyes to see but his eyelids were heavy and stinging with the blood that had trickled down into them.

He couldn't even begin to catalogue the injuries he had. All he knew was that his head hurt so much he thought he'd vomit and his left knee was playing up something awful. He liked to rest it on the underside of the steering wheel when it wasn't on the clutch and, god, it must've collided with it in the crash. It was hot to the touch, even through his jeans, and he took in a sharp, shuddering breath at how tender it felt.

"You're awake!"

The sound of someone's voice had him jerking into awareness and he turned his head at the sound. It was a woman, he realised after a second, but it was more from the smell of her perfume and the sound of her voice than anything else. She was pushing him back into his seat, soft and gentle with his shoulder but firm.

"Don't move, you should stay put," she said. "The railing went through the windshield and into you. I've called 999 and an ambulance is coming to take you to hospital."

A hospital with painkillers sounded wonderful.

"My name's Emily. What's your name?"

His jaw was clenched tight from the crash. He had to work to unclench it so he could speak and it took a few tries before he finally said, "Alex."

He stayed conscious with Emily by his side. She'd covered him in a blanket and she kept up a commentary for him, trying to keep him engaged. Every ten minutes or so, she'd ask him how he was feeling on a scale of one to ten. He wanted to say ten but, on a deserted country road past midnight, there was nothing she could really do for him so he'd grit his teeth and force out a five. Honestly, he was lucky she'd found him in his stalled car. when he'd crashed through the barriers. If she hadn't parked and then come to look for him, he really wondered if anyone would've.

He heard the sirens the same time Emily did but it took him longer to make the connection as to what they meant. It wasn't until Emily left and came back with the paramedic that he fully understood the ambulance had arrived, likely parked where her car was. Just the few minutes she was away had had giving in to the cold and, despite the blanket draped over him, sleep seemed like a treasue of priceless worth.

"Hey, Alex," the paramedic said, "we're going to get you through this."

And Alex thought, oh.

"Alex, can you hear me?"

Alex tried to speak but he couldn't find the words, so he closed his mouth and grunted an assent.

"Okay, Alex, I need you to open your eyes."

Opening his eyes when he felt like this was a near impossible task. The paramedic wouldn't give up, though, wetting his face to wipe off the dried blood and carefully prising open his eyelids to shine a light at them. He squinted, wincing at the brightness.

"Sorry, sorry," the man said softly, "I just need to check your eyes. It'll be over soon."

Alex laughed weakly because, yeah, it felt like that. He felt light and floaty, and rationally he knew it wasn't a good thing, but he'd take this over the pain any day. It was indescribable, like everything was weightless and he was too high above it all for something as mundane as pain to matter.

"Alex!"

It could've been a minute or ten, Alex wasn't sure, but the paramedic no longer had the torch in hand and the blanket was on the passenger seat. He wasn't aware of it being taken off him.

"Alex," the man said, cupping his face, "I need you to stay awake. I need you to stay with me."

The man had eyes, pretty eyes. They were a beautiful dark brown that was almost black, merging with the pupil, and Alex had never seen that in real life before. There was a depth in there, Alex thought, that he would've loved to explore and untangle and fall in love with. He wanted to know the stories behind each of those laugh lines, and he wanted to hear them from those lips, smiling and animated.

He wanted to know this face intimately.

But Alex wasn't going to get that. Instead, Alex got this moment to cup the man's face in his own hand, streaking blood on his cheek and his beard, and say hoarsely, "I could've loved you."

He jerked back so quickly his head hit the top of the car door, staring at him with those beautiful eyes, now wide with anguish, "No, please."

"I'm sorry." He said and he'd never meant anything more. "I'm so sorry."

One area I'm always working on, and dreading when it comes, is emotional scenes. I find them really difficult to write so I'm working to do that more, only to then procrastinate for ages because it just doesn't feel right! I wanted to make this one longer but I don't think it's realistic for Alex to stay conscious for so long.