Summary: Based off the soulmate!au where individuals have a timer for when they first meet their soulmate.

There's a tiny clock on your wrist, bright red numbers. It's supposed to tick, supposed to move, supposed to tell you when you'll meet your soulmate. The time will run to zero when you've met, moving numbers will become stationary—the ticking signifying uncertainty into the silent stability of forever.

Your clock hasn't ticked for as long as you can remember. For as long as you have looked at it, you have seen only zeroes. Nothing else. The bright red light doesn't bring anticipation like it does for everyone else. It's a looming, painful reminder that maybe there's no one out there for you or maybe your soulmate is gone, dead, just leaving you here. Maybe you never had one to begin with.

The first time you actually remember looking down at the timer marking your wrist was when you were three, a few weeks away from four. Your mother was in the kitchen cooking dinner when you walk in, bare feet pounding on the floor with every step—you never did know how to keep quiet when you were that young.

"What's this?" You asked as you pulled on her shirt, gesturing to your wrist when she turns to look at you, all warm eyes and smiles.

She can't see it, of course. You're the only one that's able to see the numbers on your wrist, but everyone knows that there's a clock on each person's wrist, so it's easy to guess what you're talking about.

"It's a timer. When it stops ticking and reaches zero it means you've found the person you're supposed to be together forever with."

You remember staring at the red numbers for a moment and not completely getting it, and murmuring a quiet "oh" before running off to get back to the toys you left strewn on your bedroom floor. The thought of clocks and numbers and forevers are very far from your mind then.

It isn't until much later that you wonders why your timer is at zero already or why you've never seen it with any number besides zero.

---

"Y/N!"

You can't describe the weird combination of annoyance and fondness that overcomes you of the too familiar presence of the younger girl. She lets go of her mother's hand and runs toward you, nearly tackling you to the ground.

Pranpriya Manoban, but people simply call her Lisa, has been your friend for as long as you can remember. So many of your memories—of both your memories—involve each other that you can't really pinpoint a time when you two weren't together.

Your mothers had apparently been old friends, excited to have children who would be born around the same time, wanted you two to be friends. Well, they've gotten their wish—you and Lisa had always been together, part of each other's lives, best friends.

"Get off!" You complains, trying to shake Lisa off of your arm. The younger girl had jumped on you, clinging onto your arm and chattering excitedly.

"Aww, you're mean." Lisa's eyes were filled with mischief. "Did you miss your nap again, Y/N? Is that why you're always so cranky?"

You pinch her arm, and the younger girl yelps in pain, letting go of you and immediately whining. "Mâe! Y/N pinched me... again!"

Pranpriya Manoban is a brat. She's spoiled, likes to tease, thinks she can get away with whatever she wants—she probably can, because as bratty as Lisa is, she's that charming kid with a cute face and sweet smile that draws attention and makes people want to indulge her.

It's annoying.

But at the same time, it's something you've grown used to and even though Lisa can be a complete pain, she's still fun to be around, even when she acts like a total crybaby.

"Sorry," You murmur, not to Lisa—never to Lisa, whose crocodile tears and quivering lip are suddenly gone the moment you say it—but to her mother, who probably doesn't want her daughter being hit or pinched. It's not that you don't want to say it, but Lisa's mother probably would have made you say it anyway, so you might as well do it before she became upset

"No, no, it's fine, Y/N," Lisa's mother assures you. "Why don't you two go and play?"

You look at Lisa, who is smiling expectantly–so annoying. You grab the younger one's hand. "Come on, let's go."

"I get to pick what we play to make up for you pinching me, right Y/N?"

"Fine." You had to restrain yourself from squeezing Lisa's hand too tightly.

---

The next time you even think about the timer on your wrist was when you were eight. You were at Lisa's house, both outside in her backyard, Lisa practicing another choreography as you peeked up from your book every now and then. It's something you both have done not too long ago after Lisa joined a dance group. The younger girl insisted you to join her, you denied. It's as if you weren't only born with a broken timer but also two left feet.

Originally, you thought it was going to be a phase that Lisa went through. In your years together, there have been a lot of phases. They were all things that would all end after for a short period of time when, without warning, there's something new to replace it.

When Lisa first insists on dancing, it's something you didn't expects to stick but it does, and you're glad because you've never seen the younger girl smile so widely as she did on the stage. Even though the time spent together has lessened due to her dance practices and competitions it was definitely worth it.

"Oh!" Lisa exclaimed when she abruptly stopped, like she just remembered something really important. You placed your book down and handed her a water bottle when she settled down beside you on the patio. "Did you hear about my sister?"

Lisa's sister is a lot older than both of you. In high school, you think. "No, what about her?"

"She came home the other day yelling about something," Lisa explained. "I thought she got into a fight with one of her friends again, but I guess the timer on her wrist reached zero just as she met some older boy at school."

"Oh..." It's the first time you have ever talked about the timers, about finding a soulmate. You think of the zeros on you own wrist—red and halted and hanging over your head, a weight ready to crash down upon you—and shake your head. "That's... cool, I guess."

"I asked her about it," She says. "She said that everyone has a timer and that it only reaches zero when you've met the person you're supposed to be with. It's normal, I guess..."

"Yeah, I know. My mom told me before." You really wondered why the thought of zero is starting to bother you now. It hasn't before... maybe because you've never thought about it.

The words slip past your lips without even thinking about it. "How much time do you have left?"

Lisa's eyes darken for a moment before she looks down at her wrist, biting her lip. You wonder why. It's not a strange question, is it?

"A lot," Lisa finally answered. "You?"

You don't know why the answer bothered you the slightest bit, why it feels unwelcome to your ears. "A lot," you lied. "That's normal, right?"

Zero isn't normal, but no one needs to know that.

Lisa nods, a smile back on her face, but it seems kind of strained, forced. Not the usual carefree and annoying-looking grin. Maybe she just doesn't like talking about it. Forever isn't something eight year olds typically think about, after all. "Come on, you still have to master that one move."

You grab Lisa's hand and pull her up off the patio. Again, you push thoughts of your previous conversation away. It's not something you need to worry about.

Not yet.

---

Now older, Lisa laughs sheepishly as girls and guys run up to her and ask how much time she has left. Every answer is a "Sorry, I still have a lot left," and despite the words, she doesn't really seem that sorry about it. You've never seen such simple words break hearts like that. One time, some guy from the year below even cried. Apparently, he had reached zero when he was in the hall, saw Lisa and swore that she was his soulmate.

Lisa had brushed it off with a charming smile and some comforting words before sending him on his way. It still didn't stop the tears, though.

"Being so popular is tiring," Lisa complains, leaning back in her chair as you're sitting in class that morning, waiting for the teacher.

"Liar. You love it." You turns around and looks at her. "I don't know why they would want someone like you."

Lisa seems taken aback. "Y/N! Why wouldn't they want me? I'm a very attractive and wonderful person, after all!"

You snort. "Yeah, if only they knew you."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"What do you think?"

"I think that you're mean and jealous." Lisa sits normally again, leans her head on the desk so you're both looking at each other. Her tone is serious, voice low and quiet when she speaks. "I never knew so many people reached zero just like that. I never noticed it before..."

"Yeah, me too." You haven't noticed it before, but it seems like an almost weekly occurrence that someone's timer will reach zero and they find their soulmate. "You still have a lot of time left?"

"Yeah. Of course."

You don't get to say more after that since your teacher walks into the room and begins class.

You weren't sure when things start to change. Unexpected until you realizes that it really isn't, unwelcome until you knows it's a feeling you'd always want to have. You've always had a very easygoing relationship—one where things just sort of happen without you even realizing it, where you could easily fall into a steady rhythm that's all its own.

Even the tug at your heart—something beyond friendship or fondness—when you see Lisa, or the warmth that rises to you cheeks when you thinks of things that could be is an odd, unexplainable feeling.

Possibilities, maybes and could bes were things you shouldn't think about because there is no hope, no chance of anything remotely like that. None.

Not when Lisa's clock is still ticking while yours is defunct.

It wouldn't be fair to hold her back... it'd be selfish. You wouldn't do that, no matter how much you'd like to. You won't.

Detached. Apathy. Those are easier. Those would be so much easier to feel. But Lisa is a magnet. She draws people in, makes them feel something—most of the time without even trying. It is impossible to feel apathetic around Lisa. Impossible.

She's been drawing you in since you were little kids—snotty, sniffling brats who met through your mothers' mutual friendship. No matter how much you have said over the years that Lisa is annoying and insufferable and can be the worst to deal with, you never look away.

You never want to look away.

"I am not falling in love with my best friend", you thought to yourself, but really, you knows it's far beyond that point. You've already passed the careful, do not cross zone and there's no going back... which really .

Thanks Lisa. Really, thanks.

---

You can't think like that. You're lying in bed, tossing and turning in the middle of the night. You've been trying to come to terms with this newfound feeling, still not completely understanding the details that accompany the how and the why, but you've become a little more adept at putting it into words.

The moment you were able to pinpoint is when Lisa was stressing herself out over getting better, over not being able to win a dance competition or getting recognized at a talent show. It hurt to watch Lisa rip herself apart like that. It was painful to watch Lisa feel so inadequate and willing to break herself, leaving an unsettled feeling in your stomach, an ache in your heart. You never wanted to let it reach that point again—where Lisa very nearly does break and snaps herself into two, while nothing you say gets through to her.

But it's not like that now. Finally, your words reached Lisa, finally everything settled. There's no more of letting your heart break as you witness Lisa sink deeper and deeper into dark and murky depths where there is no reaching her.

---

Love.

You still want to laugh at the word. Just double over and laugh to the point where people would probably think you were insane.

It's just so ironic though—falling in love with someone you can't have.

With a soft sigh, you roll over in the bed, eyes falling on the person who has caused all of this.

Lisa had asked to come over after arguing with her parents about an offer from an entertainment company. She hadn't told you much about it and you did try to reason out that her parents were only concerned about her future but nothing was getting through to her. So you agreed to let her stay, happy to see a change in her demeanor after that.

You had argued for a few minutes about sleeping arrangements—Lisa insisting you share the bed because "My body is too tired and sore for the floor. You don't want me to get hurt, do you, Y/N?" while you were reluctant. In the end, Lisa wins. She almost always does.

Lisa's face is smashed against the pillow, her limbs sprawled out everywhere, open and drool all over the pillow. She's truly an ugly sleeper. Anyone who says Lisa is beautiful has never seen her like this.

She's not. Beautiful, you mean. Well, she is. It's hard to explain. Lisa stands out, draws attention—for her looks, personality, skills—but a lot of people don't know the real Lisa.

Not like you do.

And honestly, you'd say that seeing Lisa real and genuine—with a smile that's warm and inherently happy, one that lights up her whole face, not fake and put on, exaggerated and a perfect calculation—is something that is beautiful. It's beauty that's not superficial like the girls who follow her around at school see. Instead, it's something innate, something that only those Lisa allows to see into her heart will know. Because despite her flaws and imperfections, Lisa is beautiful. That's what makes her beautiful, real...

.  

---

Comfort after losses is either hit or miss with Lisa—she either accepts it full force or wants to pull away from everyone to be completely isolated.

Today is the former.

You haven't actually talked much—you don't really have to because sometimes just being there is enough. You're just glad that Lisa isn't pulling away and shutting you out.

You're in Lisa's living room on the couch, both leaning against the arms of it, facing each other, toes touching. It's dark outside, Lisa's parents are out, leaving both of you alone. Not a word needs to be said from both of you to simply understand that it's a night you will be staying over.

"I just want to win once," Lisa finally says, breaking the silence between you both.

"I know," You say. "You will. Next time, you're going to win."

Lisa nods slowly, accepting the encouragement. With a soft sigh, she moves forward, pushing your drawn up legs out of the way and flopping onto your stomach.

"Hey! What're you doing?" You weren't expecting it, you're both a tangled mess of limbs, a clash of elbows and knees.

"Getting comfy," Lisa answers as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if lying all over your best friend is completely normal.

It's not comfortable, but when Lisa adjusts her position so she's lying more on your chest instead of your stomach and you're looking at each other, you realize it's not that bad–minus the warmth rising to your cheeks at Lisa's closeness. That's kind of bad, and something you'd rather not be teased for at the moment.

But Lisa surprises you and doesn't say anything remotely resembling teasing. She's completely serious instead. "Y/N, thank you."

That's even more surprising. "What for?"

"For being there. Even though my group lost, seeing you there clapping for us like we won first place made it okay."

You're taken aback by the sudden show of gratitude. "Uh... you're welcome..."

Lisa continues, not done with her thought. "I know I made a lot of mistakes on the choreography... I'll work harder next time and—"

There it is. Self-deprecating tone and all. It reminds you of your primary school years when Lisa was just starting off and wasn't at her best state. You frown and flick Lisa on the forehead, stopping the rest of the words before they can come out—as if that will stop Lisa from thinking about them. "You really piss me off when you say stuff like that."

"Sorry..."

"Quit apologizing, idiot. You've got nothing to be sorry for. You're amazing... just like always."

Lisa looks genuinely surprised by the praise, her eyes wider than they had been the moment before. "You think so?"

Of course you do. "Yeah. And one day it's gonna work out, so quit worrying and saying you're not good enough. Because you are. You are good enough." You always are.

Lisa looks like she's contemplating the words, but finally nods slowly. "Okay..." she rests her cheek against your chest, tangles her fingers in the front of your shirt. "Y/N, I'm glad you're always here. I'm glad that I can always rely on you. Thank you. Thank you for being there. I don't know what I'd do—"

Your heart pounds at the words, chest tightening. You have always known Lisa felt this way, but to hear it... to hear it means a lot—lets you know that Lisa cherishes your presence as much as you cherish hers. "You don't have to thank me, . I want to be here. I'm not going anywhere."

Lisa smiles—really smiles for the first time all night—and hugs you tightly. Your hand may or may not have wandered to her hair, resting there, fingers twining.

You stay like that for a few moments, only able to hear your own breaths over the silence of the dark room. Things are comfortable between you both, steady. Lisa has seemingly gotten over the loss. Everything is okay for now.

"You wanna watch a movie?" You ask after a moment, pointing to the remote on the floor next to the couch.

Lisa snatches it up quickly. "Only if I pick."

"You picked last time!"

"My house, my rules."

"You picked at my house last time!"

Lisa ignores you and flips on the TV, immediately surfing through channels for something to watch.

You grab the remote from her hand. "Guests should pick. Have some manners."

"You're not a guest, Y/N," Lisa countered. "We practically live at each other's houses. Being guests went away a long time ago." She pulls the remote back and holds it out of your reach.

"You're gonna pick one of those horrible cheaply made romantic comedy movies. Probably about love at first sight as usual. Or one of those stupid action movies."

"Those aren't that bad if you actually try them!" Lisa slaps your hand away just as it comes close to getting the remote and moves it out of reach again. She smirks, knowing she has the advantage because she's still lying on top of you, who has to struggle to reach her. "And besides, you have horrible taste! If it was up to you, I'd have to suffer through some horribly gruesome horror movie!"

"Those aren't that bad," You insist. "You're just a big crybaby like you've always been."

Lisa's mouth drops open, she looks incredulous. "Crybaby? I am not a crybaby, Y/N! Maybe the only reason I ever cried was because you would pinch and hit me. You've always had a horrible temper."

You finally wrestle the remote away from Lisa's hands, but it drops on the floor immediately after because Lisa starts tickling you.

"Dammit! You idiot! Stop that!" You manage to choke out between laughs.

Lisa is smiling triumphantly. "Did you think I'd forget how ticklish you are, Y/N? I've got this to hold over your head for all eternity!"

"! Stop it!"

Lisa laughs too, leaning in even closer. "Not until you say I win."

"Like hell I will!"

It stops so suddenly, you don't notice it for a moment. Lisa freezes, the laughter dies down, and you're just staring at each other. Your faces are so close. So very close. Only a breath away.

Suddenly, you're uncomfortable, you're sure your face is bright red upon noticing your proximity. But Lisa is a little red too, and it's strange. It's—

Lisa leans down and kisses you. It's tentative, unsure, but it's nice. It's so nice and feels right. So you kiss her back—without even thinking, honestly. It's just a natural reaction.

You break apart, and look into each other's eyes. That's when you remember. Timers. Soulmates. Being like this with Lisa isn't supposed to be right.

"You shouldn't have done that," you whisper, looking away from Lisa's face, from her swollen lips.

Lisa touches your face gently, turning it back toward her so your eyes are locked once again. "I wanted to. But I won't do it again if you don't..."

It's probably a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. But you can't help that all of the pent up feelings built up and ready to explode choose right now to completely rush forward and eliminate any rational thought you may have. And you want to be selfish. For once, you want to.

"Don't be stupid. I want to."

Your lips meet in another kiss, one that feels like forever even though it really isn't.

It's so easy after that. At least, that's what you wanted to think. You're still best friends, attached to each other from years of being by each other's sides. But it's nice—a little unbelievable, but still nice—to touch, to kiss, to exist as more than just that.

For short periods of time, you'll forget the ever present reminder that you don't belong with Lisa, ignore the doubts brought on by the zero on your wrist. But those thoughts can never stay away for long. Because ultimately, when Lisa's timer runs out there won't be any more of this.

Of course, you'll still always be friends. No matter what happens, you can't imagine walking away from someone who has been such an important part of your life. But still, the reminder of what was and what could have been will always hurt even if you to come to terms with letting go.

Lisa won't tell you exactly how much time is left, only that there's a lot. And when she asks, you lie and tell her the same. It seems promising. It seems like it could work. But there are so many odds stacked against a random relationship like yours—one outside of the entity of soulmates.

Everyone says you're drawn to your soulmate, that you'll find them no matter what and any previous threads of relationships past are cut. Denying the inevitable is stupid, especially when there exists something as powerful as a soulmate—someone who can shatter your whole world and rebuild it all anew in just one instant.

You know you stand no chance against that.

It's like a stab to the heart thinking that one day Lisa will meet the person who completes her while you will be left behind—alone and forever incomplete.

Still, it doesn't stop you both, doesn't pull you apart.

It doesn't stop Lisa from whispering a quiet "I love you" against your chest one night.

It'd hurt so much less if she didn't. But it doesn't stop you from curling your arm around Lisa's waist and drawing her in closer. It doesn't stop you from enjoying the warmth radiating from Lisa's skin and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. It doesn't stop you from murmuring an "I love you too."

---

It takes everything you have to stop yourself from turning around. Class was really boring that day. The teacher and a student—a particularly outspoken girl—somehow got into a conversation about soulmates. Of course.

No one is paying attention to the discussion at the front of the class, or if they are, it's only vaguely so. There are kids hiding other work behind their books, on their phones, sleeping. Lisa is another story, though.

Which brings you to your current dilemma. Lisa's seat is behind yours, and she's been subtly kicking your chair for the past five minutes, trying to get you to turn around.

You want to turn around, but only to throw your English book to Lisa's stupid face. Too bad you can't do that, though. The chance of getting caught is too high.

There have been enough times where you've gotten called out on in class for reacting to something Lisa did. You do not need another instance of that, thank you very much.

You're half paying attention to the conversation going on, vaguely listening to the words as you try to ignore Lisa's foot on the back of your chair every few minutes.

"Finding your soulmate prevents divorce, makes relationships more stable. There's less domestic violence. Things are better this way and everyone should at least acknowledge that."

"Yeah, but no one wants to wait around for someone if they have a lot of time left," the girl argues. "We should be allowed to have our fun while we wait."

You look up from what you're drawing in your notebook when a piece of paper lands on her desk. A note. Really? Are you back in junior high?

Still, you open it and immediately recognize Lisa's handwriting.

"I think we should break up. This conversation has made me see the light."

You wanted to laugh but you don't because of class going on. You scribble an equally sarcastic note back.

"Who says you can break up with me? I'll be the one breaking up with you." You subtly throw it back to Lisa's desk when no one is looking.

Lisa's laughter is muffled behind her hand, but still noticeable. That, and she kicks your chair again. Idiot.

It's kind of ironic that you're even joking about this, isn't it? Neither wants it to get to that point, but here you are writing stupid notes and acting like it will all be okay when you do get there.

You read Lisa's response, hastily thrown onto your desk, torn between smiling and rolling your eyes. "As if, Y/N. There's no way you'd be able to break up with this beautiful face. I don't care about whether there's some stupid soulmate there or not."

You both must have looked like you were not paying attention because next thing you know the teacher is calling on both of you. "Lisa, Y/N, is there something funny about this?"

You freeze, unsure of what to say, but Lisa is quick to recover. "Actually, I was wondering why we put so much faith in the idea of soulmates. Who's to say that I can't find someone that I love just as much, if not more, on my own? Isn't that what loving someone should be about? Not finding your perfect match in one chance instant, but finding someone you've grown to love on your own."

Damn. You want to bury your face in your hands and never look up again, but since everyone's eyes are on you both, so you remain calm. At least you think you do.

A bunch of the boys and girls in class sigh at Lisa's words, as if they think this gives them a chance with her.

The teacher seems surprised by the words, taken aback by Lisa's smile. "Well, regardless of the issue, let's get back to work. Open your books to page..."

Lisa kicks the back of your seat again when the teacher isn't looking. This time, you turn around and see her smiling. You smile back.

Even if this is what you both want, what you both feel, there's no guarantee that years from now it will be the same. That just makes everything more difficult.

---

"I don't believe in soulmates," Lisa declares. It's late one night, and you're doing homework together in her room—the blonde sprawled across your lap and reading her textbook while you're leaning against the pillows of the bed, using Lisa's back as a table to do math homework. It's not the most practical method, but it's good enough for you both. The closeness is nice.

You set your pencil down and trail your hand over Lisa's back gently. "You say that now, but you'll change your mind when you meet yours." You lean back against the pillows and rub your forehead, hoping that the lump in your throat won't prevent you from saying more.

Lisa turns to look at you. "What if I don't even have one?"

You wanted to laugh. "Don't be stupid. Of course you have one. Everyone has one." Except for me, but you don't need to know that.

"Well then, what if I don't want to meet mine?" Her voice is petulant, has the slight whiny lilt to it that you know so well from years together. It's Lisa's defiant tone, the one where she declares she's not doing something and that she's not backing down.

The difference now, though, is that you don't know what to say. You've become so accustomed to dealing with that side of Lisa that you usually know exactly how to respond. But now... now, you don't.

"Y/N?" Lisa sits up, turning to face you. All thoughts of homework are forgotten.

"Then you could be mine," you wanted to say. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were."

But you don't say that. Instead you say, "You'll want to. Even if you say now that you don't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because everyone says you can't resist getting drawn in by your soulmate when you meet. You'll forget all about this when that happens."

Lisa frowns, brows furrowed as she thinks about your words. "You don't know that."

"Maybe I don't, but it seems more likely than not." You look down at your lap, away from Lisa's face as you say your next words. "Let's just enjoy this while it lasts, okay?"

It's silent, and for a moment you think Lisa is going to refuse, but then you hear a soft "Okay."

You look up, realizing that Lisa doesn't seem pleased with your words, doesn't seem satisfied. For a quick moment, Lisa's eyes are dark—filled with sadness, fear, and a bit of anger. But as quickly as it's there, it's gone, almost like you had imagined it. "Y/N?"

"I wouldn't forget you," she mumbles. "I could never forget you, Y/N."

Your heart constricts at that, torn between happiness and sadness. Happiness because this—whatever this is—is real, true, will leave a mark on both of you... something almost like forever. But there's sadness because it isn't, and this will break someday. All good things come to an end. Realities can't touch dreams. Even unbreakable things can be shattered when an even stronger force sweeps in.

Nothing lasts forever. Not the both of you, anyway.

Eventually, all you'll have left are memories, and who knows if those will even be something you'll look back on. Years later your memories from right now could be useless, could be collecting dust, a photo album stored away in the darkest corners of an attic—never even looked at anymore.

You don't want that. Not at all.

Lisa leans forward, resting her hand on your arm. "Don't forget me, okay? Please don't—"

I could never. Would never. "There's no way I could."

Even though it's a promise forged through your shared determination, desire, punctuated with a sure touch, it doesn't feel like one. Promises built on stability aren't supposed to break.

This one could... would.

Because all things break in the end. Deteriorate. No longer exist.

But you hope that's not all you'll amount to. You hope with all of your heart that you can beat all of the odds even if that's something more akin to a dream than a reality.

---

If it's possible, Lisa pulls you in even closer, kisses you soft and slow. Your breaths mingles together. You're so close, no part of you both left untouched. Everything is familiar.

When you're together like this, it feels like you both belong. With hushed whispers, and soft gasps, with sure, steady, and gentle fingers, loving presses of lips against skin, you two move—in sync, together, a slow burning with every touch, the thudding of their beating hearts.

Alive. Together. Meant for each other.

"Y/N," Lisa breathes out, nails digging into your skin, leaving marks that prove she belongs there.

"Lisa. I—" Lisa's lips are on yours, kissing you hard, searing, wanting.

Something has never felt so perfect, so right.

---

You're tired, about to fall asleep when you feel Lisa shift against your chest and lean closer to whisper softly in your ear. "Do you regret it?"

It's obvious that Lisa is talking about more than .

"Do you regret loving me?" Is what she implied.

"No, I don't," You answer honestly, your fingers tracing soft circles on her back as you hold her close—if only you could draw a world for just you both, where this would be okay, where it would be forever. "Do you?"

"Not at all." Lisa kisses your bare chest, right over your heart. "Do you think you'll ever regret it?"

Even though there's a chance of this ending and that will hurt, when you think back on the year you've spent together like this you don't think you'd be able to regret it. Experiencing this has been worth it. Forever or not.

"Like I could." You draw Lisa in closer, kissing her again.

---

It's late spring when you realize everything is coming to an end–high school, juggling between studying and your social life, Lisa. Everything is drawing to a close. All you know is that it will end with different countries and no more time spent in Lisa's backyard. Being together is no longer a guarantee. It's still a choice that you will prioritize, that you will hold above any other option, but there is no guarantee it could be that way. There's never a guarantee. 

Everything ends eventually.

Lisa had called you—at almost midnight, no less—and asked you to come over. She gave you no explanation, no reason. Just asked. It wasn't like the usual demand for you to come over—the annoying, almost whiny, and expectant pleas when you would initially say no.

You would say no to a stupid request at midnight after a long day at school and preparing for finals when all you wanted to do is sleep.

No, this was different. It was just a simple request—not all dramatic and drawn out. Plain, simple, a "Can you please come over?" There's even a please. You wanted to laugh at that. It's so vastly different than the usual "Y/N, come over, I'm bored!"

Five minutes is all it took for you to pull on a sweatshirt and quietly sneak out of your own house, walking the short distance to the one across the street that's basically become your second home over all of these years.

It isn't until you get there that you think about getting in. After years of this, you know how to get into Lisa's house—know exactly which first floor window will open if you jostle it the right way, know which stairs to be extra careful on because they creak loudly when stepped on the wrong way. It's become an art, of sorts. A perfectly mastered skill.

Breaking into Lisa's house without her parents' knowledge... what a skill to have. That one will be really useful in real world application.

It always feels a little awkward doing so without her parents' knowledge. It feels wrong. Almost. Hasn't stopped either of you for all of these years, though.

You were about to head back toward the window that you always uses when a voice stops you. "They're not home. The door's open."

You look up to where the voice had come from, seeing Lisa sitting on the roof, knees drawn to her chest, chin resting on them.

"What are you doing up there, ? It's cold out! You're gonna get sick and you have a meeting with that talent manager next weekend! I swear if you—"

Lisa grins at you. "You know, I could have sworn that my mom was gone for the weekend..."

"You wanna repeat that?"

Lisa laughs. "No, no. Sorry, Y/N." She's all smiles and it is seriously too late for this. "You wanna come up?"

As if she has a choice. "Fine, but only for a few minutes. Then we'll go inside." The breeze is cooler than the month before, and obvious it will be monsoon season soon. A night out on the roof in the cold air pales in comparison to sleep in a warm bed.

This is something you're familiar with too. You've spent countless times up there. When you were kids, going on the roof was a taboo. There was a constant warning that you two would fall and get hurt. But one day Lisa had determined that ten was old enough to climb up there on your own. Your parents didn't have to know about it if you snuck in the middle of the night. Nothing bad happened, fortunately. If anything, the routine stuck and now it's a place you can go, a place you don't have to talk in hushed whispers or fear waking her parents up. No, this is a place all of your own.

By now, you're both experts at climbing up there, don't need any help from each other like when you were kids. Still, you take Lisa's outstretched hand and let her help pull you up.

You sit down, your shoulders brushing, Lisa's hand never leaving your own. "What's up for you to call and ask me over this late?"

"Oh, so I have to have a reason now, Y/N? I can't just ask you over because I want to?"

"Idiot," you murmur softly, nudging Lisa's shoulder with your own. "Of course you can. It seemed like more than that though."

"My parents are gone for the weekend. They went to visit my aunt and uncle and I hate being home alone."

You know that's true. Back in junior high Lisa's parents had left her home alone to go to some friend's wedding under the impression that Lisa would be fine on her own for a few days.

Not even a day had passed and she was spending the rest of her parents' trip at your house because she didn't like being alone in the house at all.

"You still scared of the dark?"

Lisa pouts at the jab. "Am not. Shut up."

"Then it's that you think someone's going to break in."

"I do not! I just don't like being by myself." Alone. Lonely.

You quit with the teasing, squeezing Lisa's hand tighter. "You should have said something earlier."

"You don't mind, then?"

Another gentle nudge of your shoulder. "I'm here, aren't I?"

A smile, a nudge back. "Yeah... you are. You always are."

It's something that doesn't need to be answered with words, can instead be conveyed with a reassuring squeeze of her hand. I want to be.

You're quiet after that, just look at each other, enjoying the moment between you both. Toy might not have many more left, so cherishing every single one is important.

Lisa is bright, radiant against the dark night sky, fits in perfectly. A bright star that won't stop shining, that won't go out even when clouds try to cover her.

Each look you share, each breath, you fall more and more in love with her.

Lisa's hand is warm in your own, a soft and gentle touch—one that you don't want to end. But it's a touch that could break, shatter at any moment.

Time ticks on slowly, will continue to tick until your time runs out. It's inevitable. It will happen.

... You're dreading it.

But...

"Lisa?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you mean it?"

"As wonderful as I am, I don't have that great of a memory. What is it, Y/N?" Lisa is smiling at you—that stupid grin you've become so accustomed to. It's the type of smile that you either want to wipe off of Lisa's face or brush your lips against. That decision is always such a struggle...

"That you'd give up something like a soulmate for this?" It's still a little hard to believe even when you say it out loud. Before, the words seemed like something you had dreamed, told yourself as a reassurance, but hearing it out loud... that made it real.

Lisa laughs at first, quiet and breathless. "You put too much faith in that stuff, Y/N."

How can I not? It's normal, isn't it?

But Lisa continues before you can say anything, almost like she doesn't have to think about the question. "Of course I would. I think I'd always choose this."

The wind sends chills down your spine, brings goose bumps to your skin, but Lisa is warm. Her hand is always so warm. You don't want to let go.

So don't.

And that's the ideal option. But it's the unknown of the future that scares you. Getting in so deep with this may have been a bad idea. Because even if you and Lisa don't want to let go, that may not hold true in the future. Anything could happen.

"Everything is going to change soon, isn't it?" It will. Next weekend is potentially the last time you'll get to spend together. The rest of the school year will be filled with preparations for college and graduation. So much will change, will continue to change.

Lisa frowns. "Yeah, but not completely. We'll still be together. Even though we're apart we can still stay in touch. We're not that far apart. Who knows... in the future you can come live with me in Seoul."

"You don't want a fresh start?" It would be the perfect chance.

"Why would I?"

"Because letting go now is easiest."

There's a twinge of pain on your arm, like someone just pinched you, but before you can say anything, Lisa leans forward and brushing your lips together, kissing you for a moment before murmuring against your lips, "Just because something is easy doesn't mean it's the best choice."

You almost laughs. Almost. But instead you press your foreheads together, swallowing any protests or arguments, just looking at Lisa. Can't tear your eyes away. "Wow, that's deep. Where'd you get that?"

"You're acting like nothing I say is meaningful, Y/N." She presses another kiss to your lips, leans in closer.

"Because it's usually not," You managed to get out between Lisa's insistent kisses.

Lisa stops with the kisses, but doesn't pull back, allowing your foreheads to continue resting against each other. "Rude."

"Shut up or I'm going home."

"I won't let you. You're here and I'm not letting you leave."

It's said as a joke, but you wonder if there's more meaning behind it than she lets on, wonders if it applies to more than just this particular instance. You're about to say more, but stops when you feel Lisa shiver beneath your touch. It really is cold out... "Come on, we're going inside. And I don't care what you say, but I'm going to bed."

"Okay, okay." Lisa takes your hand, letting you pull her to her feet so you can head back inside, all thoughts of the cold night air forgotten, replaced with thoughts of holding each other in Lisa's warm bed.

You think about Lisa's words later—about what's easy and what's best. On one hand, ending this would be easy. It's a break that will hurt, but will ultimately cause less pain in the long run. But then there's the other side of it—the one where you don't want it to end, where you don't want there to be any sort of break between you both.

It's not that you want to give up that easily. Because you don't. You're willing to fight for this, but wonders if it's futile in the end—a big waste of time.

Time. That's funny, because time is the thing that's keeping you on edge like this. It's what's making this all so difficult.

Sometimes you wish the timers on your wrists were real, had some sort of physical manifestation. Because then you could act on the urge to smash it and stop you time from slowly ticking away.

You can't imagine looking down at a timer that slowly counts down you time together, that is signaling when things will break between you both. For that, you're not envious of Lisa. You wonder how Lisa can look at that every day, a constant reminder that you have a time limit placed together.

At least you don't know when it will end. Watching your time tick by with each passing day would be even more painful. Having the inevitable loom over you as an unknown is one thing. To know the exact amount of time until it is over, until your relationship will break is horrifyingly cruel.

For that reason, you're almost glad you have a zero on your wrist. Almost.

Even though you don't want it to end—never wants it to end—running is easy. Ending it is easy.

Something that can never last is something that should be ended. Before it hurts too much and you're at the point of no return.

And maybe that's selfish. Maybe. Probably.

But hurting more now than later is the best option. Selfish or not, it's the best—the only—option.

The rain falls slowly around you. The storm from earlier that had left puddles around the whole city creating quieter and peaceful environment when the raindrops would create a subtle splash. It's serene, beautiful. A memory that will stick in your head, one you'd rather remember than what you're about to do.

Lisa is chattering about something—you're not really sure what about, it's hard to focus when you're trying to gather the courage to do this—your fingers loosely intertwined, linking you two together.

"Y/N?" Lisa squeezes your hand, drawing you out of your thoughts. "Everything okay? You're really quiet."

Now or never. "Can we talk?"

"We already are talking," Lisa jokes, but you can see the curiosity in her eyes, the slight worry behind them. You stop walking, feet firmly planted in the wet pavement, and you're just looking at each other.

You realize that Lisa is waiting for you to say what you needs to, and for a moment, you don't think you'll be able to. But then it's tumbling out all at once, so quickly the words jumble together a little. "I think this needs to stop."

"W-what?" Lisa's hand goes limp in yours. "What do you mean?" She asks even though she knows exactly what you meant.

It shouldn't feel like you just shot someone dead. It shouldn't, but it does.

For a second you want to take the words back, to pretend this never happened, but it's out there now and you realizes it needs to be. Maybe that's selfish, but it's something that at least needs to be addressed.

"We can't keep doing this."

Lisa rips her hand away, her initial shock quickly turning to anger. It's the response that you feared—expected, but feared. "Why not? If we've got time and we're both happy then why does it have to end?"

"Because it will eventually! We can't keep denying that."

"So I'm only good enough until something better comes along?"

You sigh angrily, gripping Lisa's arm tightly. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. I'd choose you every single time, but—"

"But what? Who cares what some dumb clock says? Why is there a rule that I can't find someone I want to be with on my own?"

You've heard this before. You've heard this so many times before, and you don't get why Lisa still doesn't understand that soulmates will trump any other relationship. There's no chance of this lasting once her time runs out. "You shouldn't let me hold you back. I don't want to be the one who does that!"

"You don't! You never do!" Lisa grabs your shoulders, holding onto you tightly. "Why can't you see that? Why can't you see that I want this? That I need you?"

She's breathing heavy, looks upset and frazzled and heartbroken. And there's a pang in your heart because you're the one who caused this in the first place.

"Why do you want to give up so easily?" Lisa asks quietly. She's still squeezing your shoulders tightly, like holding on will somehow prevent the end. Really, it's just prolonging the inevitable, isn't it?

"Because we don't have forever." You don't raise your voice, saying it quietly, eyes averted from Lisa's. "No matter how much time there is left, one day it's going to run out. I don't want to get to that point and have it hurt worse than ending it now would."

"But we still have plenty of time left. Why not give it a chance and see—?"

"How much time is left?" You asked. "And I want an honest answer. If you tell me, I'll tell you."

It's something you've never said, something you've always feared talking about. But you want it in the open now. You want to know.

"None."

That, you weren't expecting. At all. "None? What do you mean?" There's so much confusion, but you can't help but notice the way your heartbeat picks up its pace. Is there a possibility that—?

"Mine's at zero," Lisa mutters. "It's been at zero for as long as I can remember. It doesn't run."

What?

Lisa must see the shocked look on you face because she continues. "I know it's not normal. I still don't understand why it's like this, but..."

No way. There's no way.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied. I couldn't help it. I couldn't help that I fell in love with you even though I'm not supposed to." Your eyes finally meet. Lisa's are glassy, the beginnings of tears in them now that the truth is finally out. "Y/N, say something. Please say something."

You don't. Instead, you lean in and kissing her, catching Lisa completely off guard. But still, Lisa kisses you back despite the confusion she must be feeling, and for once it feels like everything is going to work out. It's weightless. There are no worries, no doubts, no fears. For once you're completely free because this isn't a maybe or a possibility anymore. It's a definite. A forever.

Because of course it would work out where you've had forever within your grasps this whole time, have been dancing around it, unable to see. But now it's completely clear.

"Mine too," you whisper when you pull apart. "Mine has been at zero ever since I first looked at it."

Lisa freezes, in a breath slowly when she realizes what this means. "Do you think...?"

"We've known each other since we were babies. There would have been no way for us to know if it hit zero back then." This is all still a little unbelievable. Amazing, perfect, but unbelievable that it's working out this way.

Lisa nods. "And even if for some reason we're not, there's no way to know if there really is someone else out there, so why not continue this?"

There's no reason to tear this relationship apart this time. None. So you don't protest, don't doubt anything when you wraps your arms around Lisa in a warm embrace. You're together. You can be together now. For all time, for all eternity. Forever.

Nothing is in your way.

"I can't believe this," Lisa manages to get out, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her eyes are still slightly teary from before. "All of this time..."

"All of this time," you repeat, feeling similar, still unable to completely process this all so quickly. Everything you wanted—you both wanted—is more than just a possibility now. It's a guarantee.

You don't speak anymore after that. Lisa leans in and kisses you and it's perfect. It's the best thing you could ever ask for.

This had started as a night you wanted to remember nothing about, but now, now you want to remember everything. You don't want to forget a single detail.

It doesn't matter that it's freezing out, that you're outside on a cold winter night. It doesn't matter that raining is falling on you, that your feet are soaked and uncomfortable from standing on a sidewalk covered in rain for so long that you can feel the dampness starting to seep into your bones. It doesn't matter that your cheeks are rosy, that they're shivering the slightest bit because you should have been home a long time ago instead of spending so much time walking there.

All that matters is that you two holding onto each other tightly, lips locked and hearts thudding in your chests.

You pull back first, and Lisa whines a little, starting to protest your loss of contact. "Let's go home, Lisa."

She looks like she wants to kiss you again, like she'd rather spend all night outside just being, just existing, here with each other. "But—"

You rests your hand on Lisa's cheek, leaning in to press one last quick and chaste kiss against her lips before you pull back and take her hand. Your fingers are intertwined, linked. "We've got forever for this."