Arthur stared at his wrist using the glow from his reading light. More specifically, the numbers on them. The pad of his pointer finger dragged around the navy blue zero. He was glad the color wasn’t a garish orange or pink. The numbers were cursive-like and reminded Arthur of mist on a London morning.
The five lines read zero years, five months, twenty seven days, nine hours and fifteen minutes. The blonde peered over at the calendar hanging on the wall. He did the math, July, 3 at 8:13 am. Then he used his fingers and double checked. When the date and time remained the same Arthur rolled over and buried himself under the covers. Of course it’d be then. Maybe he’d get himself a new bracelet in the morning. A thick leather one. Yes, that sounded like a brilliant idea.
The next few weeks progressed as they normally would. After the entries on receiving the implant, his writing had thinned. Ludwig furiously instructed him to write about what his ideal soul mate was like or his fears about the search. After a month of less than satisfactory work Ludwig threatened to cut his work on the People’s Court (which was really the most fun he had while writing) so he could spend more time on The Timer Articles. So Arthur buckled down. He was a professional.
One snowy night after the boys were in bed, Arthur cracked open a cold beer and pulled out his laptop. The cursor blinked innocently at him. Arthur set his fingers to the keys and stalled. He let his head drop on the back of the couch and closed his eyes, trying to imagine his perfect soul mate. When he drew a blank he decided to start with everyone else and hoped some focus would come as he wrote.
'12/02/14 Secretly we all wonder what our soul mates would be like. The thought keeps teenager girls up past their bed times and has businessmen daydream through afternoon meetings. My soul mate is not one I’ve waxed poetically on in the past. He (because if my Timer tries to give me a woman I'll swear off all romantic contact and become a monk) wouldn’t be anything like me. He’d be sweet and charming with a ridiculous grin rather than a fierce glare. We’d argue over world literature and debate the virtues of socialism.'
Arthur got stuck after that. He deleted several frivolous line and the timid line that, 'He’d love my cooking,' was relegated to the bottom of the page where he couldn’t see it. Fantasies like, 'He’d be alright helping me raise my brothers,' didn’t get written period. His inner desperation wasn’t fit to be aired to the world. The keys clicked away as Arthur continued on.
'If we’re going to be petty, I’d like him to be shorter than me. I detest looking up at people. Hopefully he’d be from Great Britain because I regularly need to purge myself of American culture by watching Dr. Who marathons and if my soul mate couldn’t appreciate that then he’d bloody well better have a better method (read: be an incredible shag) so I can lie back and think of England.'
Arthur stared at the litany of wishes scribbled across the page and slammed his laptop closed in disgust. The rest of his beer disappeared in one long gulp. With his closed his eyes Arthur massaged his forehead. He took several deep breaths and tried to reassure himself a real soul mate wouldn’t leave him over his brothers or cultural quirks. Calmer Arthur pulled his eyelids open. Navy numbers loomed in front of his eyes. He yelped and pulled his left hand from his face. Where had that damn bracelet disappeared to?
It was an ugly March afternoon. Grey clouds hung low in the sky. The last tendril's of winter hung in the air, keeping them from packing away the scarves and mittens. To perk the boys up, Arthur took Matthew and Alfred over to Modca. The trendy café was a favorite of theirs and the perfect place to enjoy something sweet while they all got some work done. The rich smell of coffee hung in the shop. Across from Arthur was a half finished worksheet which was being ignored by Alfred so he could slurp the whip cream off his frozen, blended caramel something or other. Next to him Matthew had some how managed to curl into a ball in his chair. A narrow copy of The Outsiders was perched on his knees.
Arthur glanced back to his own work and grimaced. His inbox was over flowing with comments and questions on the Timer Articles. Over the last ten years, books had been published about the soul mate search, but they were either fictional or dull as all hell. He remembered when he was a boy and David Beckham got his Timer, Arthur had read everything he could get his hands on about it. A loud slurp had Arthur looking up over his screen long enough to raise an eyebrow at Alfred. His brother gave a muttered sorry and Arthur disappeared behind his laptop again.
The list of questions he’d got over the last two months ranged from dull, 'What’s it like having a Timer?' to the ridiculous, 'Can you feel your soul mate through your Timer?' Most of them would go unanswered, but others were the perfect fodder for new articles. The one he was set to write on asked, 'Do people treat you differently when they notice you have a Timer?' The answer was easy, yes. Now he just had to go through the gritty bits like how and why.
'09/03/14
Everyone is marked by society. Some are inherent marks like gender and race while others are voluntary like fitness, tattoos or piercings. Of course, Timer implants fall into that second category. Before my implant, I perceived people with Timers as rich, type A personalities. It wasn’t a conscious distinction, but as a child the people I saw getting Timers were always such people. It may have been true back then, but that’s not the case any more.
Yesterday morning I was at David’s Tea for a cuppa when a tiny grey haired woman struck up a conversation with me. At first I thought she was just particularly friendly, but our conversation turned towards finding happiness. Only after her third glance down at my wrist did I realize she was interested in my Timer implant. I told her about the experience and asked if she would ever consider an implant. She replied that was that she was, “far too old for such excitement, but it thrilled her to see young people taking a chance on their happy endings.” She ended up paying for my tea and continuing on her way without another word. She didn’t assume that I had all the money in the world or that I was a control maniac who couldn’t stand to be with someone other than their “true match.” Rather she just figured that I wanted to find the person that would complete me.
So in short, yes, people do treat you differently when you have a Timer. My experiences have been largely positive, but I can assure you, just as I believed Timers were all rich type A personalities, there are still conservatives who find Timers to be an outrageous emotional-scientific manipulation that caters to the wealthy.'
“Hey Artie?”
The older man hummed, still typing. Some of the lines were awkward and others lacked punctuation.
“Do you know Algebra at all?” Alfred asked.
Arthur’s fingers paused over the keyboard. He looked up at his brother to see him playing with his straw staring at his math homework.
“A little,” Arthur answered, “do you need help?”
Alfred scratched the back of his neck and nodded quickly. Now that Arthur was looking he could see dark smudges on Alfred’s paper from where he’d erased his answers.
“Well slide over and let’s see if two heads are still better than one,” Arthur said.
Alfred pushed his homework across the table. He climbed up onto the chair and leaned into Arthur’s shoulder with a sigh. Arthur rubbed the boy's back as he stared down at the paper, trying to remember the last time his math had letters in it.
Arthur was warm and still half asleep state as the sun rose. Light peeked in through the curtains like shy fairies. Arthur let his eyes fall shut again. He had to get the boys up for school soon and start on breakfast, but not yet. Arthur nuzzled his pillow. So content was he that he missed the squeak of his door and the light footsteps across the floor. It wasn't until a body landed on him did he notice the other person in his bedroom.
"Arthur," Alfred cheered, "Guess what today is?!"
Arthur groaned. He freed and arm to grab the bouncing boy but Alfred scooted out of the way. Cold air brushed his feet as Alfred rumpled the blankets. Arthur swatted at the air to keep the energetic boy away from him.
"Tuesday?" Arthur grimaced as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
"The last day of school and two days until our birthdaaaay!" Alfred sang.
Arthur gave the boy a tight smile. Even though they were twins, Matthew and Alfred weren't actually born on the same day. His mother had delivered Matthew first on at 11:52 pm on July 2. Alfred hadn't arrived until 12:01 am on July 4.
Matthew was hovering by his bedside so Arthur pulled the boy down onto the bed. Matthew laughed and slipped under the covers. A tender smile stole across Arthur's face. The radio started playing a Beatles song as the clock flashed 6:15 am in red. Time to get up.
"Happy birthday to us! Happy birthday to usss!" Alfred continued on above them with Matthew joining intermittently.
Arthur's mind cast back to that day. The doctors desperately wanted to perform a c-section to deliver Alfred but their father wouldn't let them. His mother strained for the next twenty four hours to bring the baby into the world. When Alfred had finally arrived he'd been blue lipped, but squalling. Thirteen year old Arthur was never quite able to forgiven his father for that. When his mother passed away four years later and his father disappeared into a bottle, Arthur's first executive decision for the twin's care was to celebrate their birthday on the third.
He was broken from his memories as Alfred shouted, "Dog pile!"
Alfred smothered his twin into Arthur's stomach. Matthew flailed and smacked Arthur in the nose. Arthur roared, stunning both boys into stillness. With a cackle Arthur took advantage of their pause to pin them both and tickle the crooks of their elbows and necks. They laughed and wiggled, trying to get away. Only when tears streamed down their cheeks did Arthur released them. Both boys scrambled towards the door.
"Breakfast in twenty minutes," he called to their backs.
With a light heart Arthur pulled out a jumper and pair of trousers for the day. The air con groaned in the wall and Arthur flipped it off. It wasn't doing much good anyway. Matthew's music thrummed through the house.
Before he headed out the door Arthur wrapped his wrist in the soft leather cuff. The time he was suppose to meet his soul mate was burned into his mind as clearly as it was written on his skin. This morning more than any other, he could nearly feel the blue numbers dwindling under his skin. All the soul mate literature said to go about his regular routine. Arthur was terrified of doing something to keep his soul mate from meeting him. Would the numbers reset if he missed his chance? There was so much room for human error in this contraption. Why couldn't people just meet the old fashion way and be happy?
"Boys! Let's go," he shouted from the doorway. Matthew slipped next to him with a smug grin and headphones dangling from his neck. Stomping came from above them and Arthur sighed.
"He fell back asleep," Matthew said.
Arthur looked at his younger brother, "and you didn't wake him back up."
The new teen smirked, "I'll be in the car," he answered.
Arthur rubbed his forehead and jogged up the stairs. Arthur bellowed, "Alfred Fred-" and pounded on the door. The door burst open before he could finish. Alfred spilled out with one shoe on, his bag dangling over a shoulder and bed head.
"I'm ready!" He exclaimed.
Arthur smacked the back of his head and dragged him down the stairs with him.
"Can't I just grab something really fast?"
"No!" Arthur grumbled, "If you'd got up when I woke you the first time then you could have eaten the lovely birthday breakfast I made you."
The boy whined all the way into the car and even more when he saw that Matthew had claimed the front seat. Matthew teased him about missing breakfast. Unable to stand the sound any longer, Arthur handed over the egg wrap he'd put together, "Happy Birthday, maybe next year you'll make it down for breakfast."
"Aw, Artie you're the best!" Alfred threw his arms around the seat to hug him. The oldest grumbled as he put the car in reverse and glanced at the clock, 7:02 am, barely an hour from now.
The tire wheels shrieked as Arthur pulled the car into the day camp. He hid a wince. They'd be the next thing to replace with the Timer Articles money. The boys gave him cheeky grins and calls of good luck as they scrambled from the car.
With the boys off Arthur made his way into work. He was fixedly not looking at his wrist or the clock. He'd meet him when he met him. No use fretting about it. Break lights lit up the Williamsburg Bridge. He put the radio on and an abhorrent country song flooded through the car. Arthur slammed his finger into next button and an soft crackling filled the car. The baritone voice was projected to him right from the early 1900s. Arthur let the old song croon to him about being there in sunshine and shadows. The music felt like coming home.
His drive continued like that all the way into Manhattan. Arthur walked through the doors of the newsroom at 8:02 am sweating bullets. Ludwig waved at him through the glass of his office, but Arthur ignored him. He felt like he was going to expel the contents of his stomach at any moment.
What if his soul mate didn't have a Timer? What if they were married? He couldn't have a relationship with his soul mate's wife. He'd heard of them. When one part of a soul pair had already got married then found out their soul mate. Usually the marriage was dissolved, but other times the married soul mate continued on the marital relationship, especially when their were children involved. Arthur didn't think he could handle that. He neither wanted to be the reason for a ruined marriage or foster another persons children.
"Pardon me?" A lilting voice broke his thoughts, "I'm looking for the Editor, Ludwig Beilschmidt."
Arthur's break caught and his eyes widened. It was a tall, blonde man. His hair was long and pulled back at the nape of his neck. The blonde's smile was warm and lazy like a cat lounging in a patch of sunlight. A small French flag was pinned to the lapel of his sports jacket. Arthur's wrist pulsed and thrummed. The countdown was over. This was him, this was Arthur's soul mate.
"Oh fuck no," the words escaped without his notice.
"Excusez-moi?" the blonde exclaimed.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It might be an emergency with Alfred or Matthew.
"I have to take this," Arthur gasped and the Frenchmen shrugged before asking his question to the man next to Arthur.
"Hello?" Arthur said dizzily.
"Did you meet him?" Matthew asked.
Arthur's eyes were riveted to the man walking into Ludwig's office. His long legs were wrapped in tight dark-wash jeans. The grey jacket stretched across his shoulders. No one besides the boys knew the date on his Timer. He'd kept wrapped it in a leather cuff and kept it well hidden. He didn't want to have to talk about it more than the articles he had to write.
"You're suppose to be in class," he stated dumbly.
"Artie's in shock!" Alfred snickered in the background, "School's over!"
"Is he nice?" Matthew tried again.
"We haven't really spoken yet..." Arthur trailed off.
"What'd you say to him?" Matthew asked. His first words to his soul mate blared through his mind like a car horn.
"I'll call you boys back," Arthur mumbled and stumbled towards the office door.
He was too tall, too French, too charming. That couldn't be his soul mate. It was all wrong. The Timer must be broken, frantically Arthur peeled the bracelet off his wrist. The five lines of the Timer had disappeared and in it's place was a single line. A looping signature wrapped around Arthur's wrist, Francis Bonnefoy.
His heart thrummed in his chest like a bad pop song. Arthur watched the man through the glass. The tall blonde was standing talking to Ludwig. His arms were crossed and if Arthur hadn't noticed how delectable his soul mate looked before he sure did now. But French... why did he have to be French? Fear built in his stomach, just because he'd met the man didn't mean he had to pronounce his love right away, right? There was no rule saying he had to tell the other half. Besides Francis, as he wrist so clearly labeled, hadn't recognized him. He didn't have a Timer, maybe he didn't want a soul mate since he certainly looked like he could afford one. Sick from his nerves, Arthur made his way over to the employee kitchen. He needed a cup of tea, very strong tea.
Arthur couldn't tell you how long he stood in the kitchen watching Ludwig and Francis. It was long enough for Arthur to notice the annoying way the other man gestured with his hands to illustrate what he was saying, that he popped one hip and slouched when standing and sprawled out loosely when sitting. When Arthur brought his tea to his lips the cold liquid startled him. Spluttering, Arthur set the cup down. The cold shocked some sense into him. He was being a ruddy coward. Besides what if Ludwig halted his Timer Articles commissions because he didn't have the stones to talk with his soul mate? Arthur looked up for a clock, 9:02 am.
He quickly sent off a text message to Matthew and Alfred, "I'm going to speak with him now." Then he pushed himself away from the counter. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He'd be damned if he let that lily-livered frog cow him into silence. His hand didn't tremble when he knocked on Ludwig's door. The shouted enter was slow to come but Arthur didn't let it deter him.
"Ah Arthur, this isn't the best time," Ludwig grimaced at him.
Francis was leaning against the wall. The skin between his eyebrows were pinched.
"Terribly sorry, but I think this takes precedence," Arthur drawled with an confidence he didn't feel. He couldn't help but sneak a glance over at Francis. His soul mate's eyebrow had risen. Before anyone could say anything else Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth and blurt out, "It's about the Timer Articles."
Whatever Ludwig was going to say was stopped short. Francis's other eyebrow rose.
"I've been following those articles," and god help him because Arthur wanted to strangle the French lisp out of his voice. His Timer had to be broken.
"Is that your writing?" the Frenchmen continued.
Arthur glared at the blonde, "Yes, it's mine, you great French baboon."
Ludwig turned green, "Arthur this is Francis Bonnefoy," as if Arthur didn't know that, "he's one of the new Directors elected to the Board."
Arthur pressed his fist to his mouth and stifled a groan. Of course he was. Lovely, just lovely.
"Well that's splendid really..." Arthur screwed up his courage, "because this involves him too."
There was no other way to delay the inevitable, he'd be a man about this. Arthur thrust his left arm out palm up. Someone gasped his name and warm fingers closed around his hand.
"That is my name," came a hushed statement.
"Will your ability to state the obvious be an ongoing experience?" Arthur grumbled as he pointedly staring at the man's shiny shoes, "Because it's not an attractive quality."
The hand around his tightened and Arthur prepared for the Frenchmen to drop it, for him to declare it must be a mistake, for him to suggest they forget this happened. He was decidedly not prepared for a the man to pull him to his chest and snuggle him like some kind of teddy bear.
"Unhand me!" Arthur exclaimed as his nose was mashed into the other man's jacket.
"I think not my petit rosbif," Francis nuzzled into his hair.
A throat cleared and Arthur looked up to see Ludwig looking extremely uncomfortable, "Perhaps you two will want to take some time to," he floundered for words, "get to know each other."
A strangled sound came from Arthur, "Ludwig!"
"I expect an article on these developments within the next two weeks," his boss continued, looking mildly more at ease discussing work, "At least fifteen hundred words. And the rest of your work is to be emailed in as well."
Arthur sounded like a dying fish, but Francis was already pulling him from the office with his hand wrapped around Arthur's. The rest of the floor quieted as they emerged. Arthur could just imagine how it looked. Prickly, skinny Arthur wrapped around a tall sex god. His green gaze cut down anyone who dared catch his eye, but more people were staring at his wrist. Face burning Arthur pulled his hand from Francis's and crossed his arms so no one could see the Timer's mark. Arthur grabbed his bag off his desk and stormed towards the lifts, terrified that Francis would follow him and terrified that he wouldn't.
He did. As they were heading down towards the lobby, they agreed to sit down at a café around the corner to talk. It was still crowded from the morning rush, but Arthur found the background chatter soothing. They both ordered, Arthur a black tea with milk and sugar and Francis a cappuccino. The men found themselves a small table by the back window. Francis folded his long limbs into the chair. Arthur tried not to compare his soul mate to any clichés, because the man was too graceful for words and more lovely than Arthur had been expecting.
"So tell me about yourself Arthur," Francis began with a small grin.
Arthur's nose wrinkled. That was, he was lovely when he wasn't speaking. But the man stayed silent and watchful. His blue eyes were as captivating as Northern Lights. Heat bled across Arthur's face. He wasn't prepared for this. He bit his lip in thought and cast his eyes across the back garden for inspiration. Bright yellow daisies bobbed in the breeze. Two silver rubbish bin glinted in the July sun. Might as well jump in.
"Well as you know I'm a writer," Arthur began, "And I have five brothers."
Francis's eyes rose, "Really? Are you the youngest?"
Arthur scowled, "No, I have two younger brothers, they're twelve... well thirteen today." Arthur laughed, "It's their birthday. They're twins."
A smile light up Francis's face, "Well happy birthday to them! I don't have any siblings," he admitted, "But I've always wanted one."
Arthur rolled his eyes, thinking of the early wake up call the other day, "They're not all that fantastic."
Francis laughed a deep rolling sound that drew Arthur's eyes to his soul mate. His head tilted back showing off a long neck. Slight golden scruff shone in the morning light. God he was an ugly duckling next to this man. Arthur sucked it up though. He'd never claimed to be a great beauty.
"So where do you live? The Village? Battery Park?" Francis asked in between sips of his coffee.
Arthur's jaw clenched and he rolled his tongue across his teeth trying to decide what to say. It was that moment when Francis's blazer caught his eye. A small tag was peeking out from the hem, Armani. Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. That jacket, carelessly draped over the dirty table, was worth more than Arthur's entire wardrobe. This was absolutely ridiculous. He'd been given a faulty Timer. Pushing his chair back, Arthur stood abruptly.
"Look this has been really fun and all, but I've got to go," Arthur scrambled for a legitimate excuse, "put money in the meter."
Francis jerked up also with a stricken look on his face. Arthur's heart twinged, but he ignored it.
Something in him was unwilling to completely give up the notion that this could work out so Arthur suggested, "Maybe we'll talk over the weekend?"
Before Francis could reply Arthur quickly scrawled his mobile number on a nearby napkin. Then he dashed from the café. Francis hollered behind him but Arthur took off for the car park. When he couldn't hear the annoying Frenchmen anymore Arthur slowed his frantic run. He scowled down at the footpath, that was two cups of tea today that he hadn't drunk.
I just want to say how much I'm loving this, A!A! You can really feel Arthur's shock in this last update - not just shocked, but in shock - and his helpless/indignant appeal of Ludwig! just killed me. Because Ludwig is always such a great one to turn to in an emotional crisis, Arthur, of course.
Also so much love for the brotherly/family feeling with Arthur and the twins.
Thank you so much for writing this! I've started to smile every time I see an update for it.
I was worried when I was posting that no one liked it that's why it was comment-less :D and I'm thrilled the shock comes across because he is in every sense of the word! As for Ludwig, when the idea first materialized in my brain he was right there giving orders to Arthur about writing before I'd even thought about Francis! I'd never written him before so I was a tad worried but he really perfect. I love FACE family interactions no matter the relationship and I'm glad you're liking it too!
The last swath of writing should be up later today! Again thanks for taking the time to leave a comment!
I was just scrolling through and saw this!!! I'm thrilled you are enjoying it!! The last bit will be posted today! Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment!
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Re: The Timer Articles 3/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-03 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)The five lines read zero years, five months, twenty seven days, nine hours and fifteen minutes. The blonde peered over at the calendar hanging on the wall. He did the math, July, 3 at 8:13 am. Then he used his fingers and double checked. When the date and time remained the same Arthur rolled over and buried himself under the covers. Of course it’d be then. Maybe he’d get himself a new bracelet in the morning. A thick leather one. Yes, that sounded like a brilliant idea.
Re: The Timer Articles 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-03 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)One snowy night after the boys were in bed, Arthur cracked open a cold beer and pulled out his laptop. The cursor blinked innocently at him. Arthur set his fingers to the keys and stalled. He let his head drop on the back of the couch and closed his eyes, trying to imagine his perfect soul mate. When he drew a blank he decided to start with everyone else and hoped some focus would come as he wrote.
'12/02/14
Secretly we all wonder what our soul mates would be like. The thought keeps teenager girls up past their bed times and has businessmen daydream through afternoon meetings. My soul mate is not one I’ve waxed poetically on in the past. He (because if my Timer tries to give me a woman I'll swear off all romantic contact and become a monk) wouldn’t be anything like me. He’d be sweet and charming with a ridiculous grin rather than a fierce glare. We’d argue over world literature and debate the virtues of socialism.'
Arthur got stuck after that. He deleted several frivolous line and the timid line that, 'He’d love my cooking,' was relegated to the bottom of the page where he couldn’t see it. Fantasies like, 'He’d be alright helping me raise my brothers,' didn’t get written period. His inner desperation wasn’t fit to be aired to the world. The keys clicked away as Arthur continued on.
'If we’re going to be petty, I’d like him to be shorter than me. I detest looking up at people. Hopefully he’d be from Great Britain because I regularly need to purge myself of American culture by watching Dr. Who marathons and if my soul mate couldn’t appreciate that then he’d bloody well better have a better method (read: be an incredible shag) so I can lie back and think of England.'
Arthur stared at the litany of wishes scribbled across the page and slammed his laptop closed in disgust. The rest of his beer disappeared in one long gulp. With his closed his eyes Arthur massaged his forehead. He took several deep breaths and tried to reassure himself a real soul mate wouldn’t leave him over his brothers or cultural quirks. Calmer Arthur pulled his eyelids open. Navy numbers loomed in front of his eyes. He yelped and pulled his left hand from his face. Where had that damn bracelet disappeared to?
Re: The Timer Articles 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-04 01:34 am (UTC)(link)The Timer Articles 5/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-04 04:22 am (UTC)(link)Arthur glanced back to his own work and grimaced. His inbox was over flowing with comments and questions on the Timer Articles. Over the last ten years, books had been published about the soul mate search, but they were either fictional or dull as all hell. He remembered when he was a boy and David Beckham got his Timer, Arthur had read everything he could get his hands on about it. A loud slurp had Arthur looking up over his screen long enough to raise an eyebrow at Alfred. His brother gave a muttered sorry and Arthur disappeared behind his laptop again.
The list of questions he’d got over the last two months ranged from dull, 'What’s it like having a Timer?' to the ridiculous, 'Can you feel your soul mate through your Timer?' Most of them would go unanswered, but others were the perfect fodder for new articles. The one he was set to write on asked, 'Do people treat you differently when they notice you have a Timer?' The answer was easy, yes. Now he just had to go through the gritty bits like how and why.
'09/03/14
Everyone is marked by society. Some are inherent marks like gender and race while others are voluntary like fitness, tattoos or piercings. Of course, Timer implants fall into that second category. Before my implant, I perceived people with Timers as rich, type A personalities. It wasn’t a conscious distinction, but as a child the people I saw getting Timers were always such people. It may have been true back then, but that’s not the case any more.
Yesterday morning I was at David’s Tea for a cuppa when a tiny grey haired woman struck up a conversation with me. At first I thought she was just particularly friendly, but our conversation turned towards finding happiness. Only after her third glance down at my wrist did I realize she was interested in my Timer implant. I told her about the experience and asked if she would ever consider an implant. She replied that was that she was, “far too old for such excitement, but it thrilled her to see young people taking a chance on their happy endings.” She ended up paying for my tea and continuing on her way without another word. She didn’t assume that I had all the money in the world or that I was a control maniac who couldn’t stand to be with someone other than their “true match.” Rather she just figured that I wanted to find the person that would complete me.
So in short, yes, people do treat you differently when you have a Timer. My experiences have been largely positive, but I can assure you, just as I believed Timers were all rich type A personalities, there are still conservatives who find Timers to be an outrageous emotional-scientific manipulation that caters to the wealthy.'
“Hey Artie?”
The older man hummed, still typing. Some of the lines were awkward and others lacked punctuation.
“Do you know Algebra at all?” Alfred asked.
Arthur’s fingers paused over the keyboard. He looked up at his brother to see him playing with his straw staring at his math homework.
“A little,” Arthur answered, “do you need help?”
Alfred scratched the back of his neck and nodded quickly. Now that Arthur was looking he could see dark smudges on Alfred’s paper from where he’d erased his answers.
“Well slide over and let’s see if two heads are still better than one,” Arthur said.
Alfred pushed his homework across the table. He climbed up onto the chair and leaned into Arthur’s shoulder with a sigh. Arthur rubbed the boy's back as he stared down at the paper, trying to remember the last time his math had letters in it.
Re: The Timer Articles 5/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-05 11:03 am (UTC)(link)Re: The Timer Articles 6/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-06 01:09 am (UTC)(link)"Arthur," Alfred cheered, "Guess what today is?!"
Arthur groaned. He freed and arm to grab the bouncing boy but Alfred scooted out of the way. Cold air brushed his feet as Alfred rumpled the blankets. Arthur swatted at the air to keep the energetic boy away from him.
"Tuesday?" Arthur grimaced as he pulled himself into a sitting position.
"The last day of school and two days until our birthdaaaay!" Alfred sang.
Arthur gave the boy a tight smile. Even though they were twins, Matthew and Alfred weren't actually born on the same day. His mother had delivered Matthew first on at 11:52 pm on July 2. Alfred hadn't arrived until 12:01 am on July 4.
Matthew was hovering by his bedside so Arthur pulled the boy down onto the bed. Matthew laughed and slipped under the covers. A tender smile stole across Arthur's face. The radio started playing a Beatles song as the clock flashed 6:15 am in red. Time to get up.
"Happy birthday to us! Happy birthday to usss!" Alfred continued on above them with Matthew joining intermittently.
Arthur's mind cast back to that day. The doctors desperately wanted to perform a c-section to deliver Alfred but their father wouldn't let them. His mother strained for the next twenty four hours to bring the baby into the world. When Alfred had finally arrived he'd been blue lipped, but squalling. Thirteen year old Arthur was never quite able to forgiven his father for that. When his mother passed away four years later and his father disappeared into a bottle, Arthur's first executive decision for the twin's care was to celebrate their birthday on the third.
He was broken from his memories as Alfred shouted, "Dog pile!"
Alfred smothered his twin into Arthur's stomach. Matthew flailed and smacked Arthur in the nose. Arthur roared, stunning both boys into stillness. With a cackle Arthur took advantage of their pause to pin them both and tickle the crooks of their elbows and necks. They laughed and wiggled, trying to get away. Only when tears streamed down their cheeks did Arthur released them. Both boys scrambled towards the door.
"Breakfast in twenty minutes," he called to their backs.
With a light heart Arthur pulled out a jumper and pair of trousers for the day. The air con groaned in the wall and Arthur flipped it off. It wasn't doing much good anyway. Matthew's music thrummed through the house.
The Timer Articles 7/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-06 01:11 am (UTC)(link)"Boys! Let's go," he shouted from the doorway. Matthew slipped next to him with a smug grin and headphones dangling from his neck. Stomping came from above them and Arthur sighed.
"He fell back asleep," Matthew said.
Arthur looked at his younger brother, "and you didn't wake him back up."
The new teen smirked, "I'll be in the car," he answered.
Arthur rubbed his forehead and jogged up the stairs. Arthur bellowed, "Alfred Fred-" and pounded on the door. The door burst open before he could finish. Alfred spilled out with one shoe on, his bag dangling over a shoulder and bed head.
"I'm ready!" He exclaimed.
Arthur smacked the back of his head and dragged him down the stairs with him.
"Can't I just grab something really fast?"
"No!" Arthur grumbled, "If you'd got up when I woke you the first time then you could have eaten the lovely birthday breakfast I made you."
The boy whined all the way into the car and even more when he saw that Matthew had claimed the front seat. Matthew teased him about missing breakfast. Unable to stand the sound any longer, Arthur handed over the egg wrap he'd put together, "Happy Birthday, maybe next year you'll make it down for breakfast."
"Aw, Artie you're the best!" Alfred threw his arms around the seat to hug him. The oldest grumbled as he put the car in reverse and glanced at the clock, 7:02 am, barely an hour from now.
The tire wheels shrieked as Arthur pulled the car into the day camp. He hid a wince. They'd be the next thing to replace with the Timer Articles money. The boys gave him cheeky grins and calls of good luck as they scrambled from the car.
With the boys off Arthur made his way into work. He was fixedly not looking at his wrist or the clock. He'd meet him when he met him. No use fretting about it. Break lights lit up the Williamsburg Bridge. He put the radio on and an abhorrent country song flooded through the car. Arthur slammed his finger into next button and an soft crackling filled the car. The baritone voice was projected to him right from the early 1900s. Arthur let the old song croon to him about being there in sunshine and shadows. The music felt like coming home.
His drive continued like that all the way into Manhattan. Arthur walked through the doors of the newsroom at 8:02 am sweating bullets. Ludwig waved at him through the glass of his office, but Arthur ignored him. He felt like he was going to expel the contents of his stomach at any moment.
What if his soul mate didn't have a Timer? What if they were married? He couldn't have a relationship with his soul mate's wife. He'd heard of them. When one part of a soul pair had already got married then found out their soul mate. Usually the marriage was dissolved, but other times the married soul mate continued on the marital relationship, especially when their were children involved. Arthur didn't think he could handle that. He neither wanted to be the reason for a ruined marriage or foster another persons children.
"Pardon me?" A lilting voice broke his thoughts, "I'm looking for the Editor, Ludwig Beilschmidt."
Arthur's break caught and his eyes widened. It was a tall, blonde man. His hair was long and pulled back at the nape of his neck. The blonde's smile was warm and lazy like a cat lounging in a patch of sunlight. A small French flag was pinned to the lapel of his sports jacket. Arthur's wrist pulsed and thrummed. The countdown was over. This was him, this was Arthur's soul mate.
"Oh fuck no," the words escaped without his notice.
"Excusez-moi?" the blonde exclaimed.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It might be an emergency with Alfred or Matthew.
"I have to take this," Arthur gasped and the Frenchmen shrugged before asking his question to the man next to Arthur.
"Hello?" Arthur said dizzily.
"Did you meet him?" Matthew asked.
Arthur's eyes were riveted to the man walking into Ludwig's office. His long legs were wrapped in tight dark-wash jeans. The grey jacket stretched across his shoulders. No one besides the boys knew the date on his Timer. He'd kept wrapped it in a leather cuff and kept it well hidden. He didn't want to have to talk about it more than the articles he had to write.
"You're suppose to be in class," he stated dumbly.
"Artie's in shock!" Alfred snickered in the background, "School's over!"
"Is he nice?" Matthew tried again.
"We haven't really spoken yet..." Arthur trailed off.
"What'd you say to him?" Matthew asked. His first words to his soul mate blared through his mind like a car horn.
"I'll call you boys back," Arthur mumbled and stumbled towards the office door.
He was too tall, too French, too charming. That couldn't be his soul mate. It was all wrong. The Timer must be broken, frantically Arthur peeled the bracelet off his wrist. The five lines of the Timer had disappeared and in it's place was a single line. A looping signature wrapped around Arthur's wrist, Francis Bonnefoy.
His heart thrummed in his chest like a bad pop song. Arthur watched the man through the glass. The tall blonde was standing talking to Ludwig. His arms were crossed and if Arthur hadn't noticed how delectable his soul mate looked before he sure did now. But French... why did he have to be French? Fear built in his stomach, just because he'd met the man didn't mean he had to pronounce his love right away, right? There was no rule saying he had to tell the other half. Besides Francis, as he wrist so clearly labeled, hadn't recognized him. He didn't have a Timer, maybe he didn't want a soul mate since he certainly looked like he could afford one. Sick from his nerves, Arthur made his way over to the employee kitchen. He needed a cup of tea, very strong tea.
Arthur couldn't tell you how long he stood in the kitchen watching Ludwig and Francis. It was long enough for Arthur to notice the annoying way the other man gestured with his hands to illustrate what he was saying, that he popped one hip and slouched when standing and sprawled out loosely when sitting. When Arthur brought his tea to his lips the cold liquid startled him. Spluttering, Arthur set the cup down. The cold shocked some sense into him. He was being a ruddy coward. Besides what if Ludwig halted his Timer Articles commissions because he didn't have the stones to talk with his soul mate? Arthur looked up for a clock, 9:02 am.
He quickly sent off a text message to Matthew and Alfred, "I'm going to speak with him now." Then he pushed himself away from the counter. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He'd be damned if he let that lily-livered frog cow him into silence. His hand didn't tremble when he knocked on Ludwig's door. The shouted enter was slow to come but Arthur didn't let it deter him.
"Ah Arthur, this isn't the best time," Ludwig grimaced at him.
Francis was leaning against the wall. The skin between his eyebrows were pinched.
"Terribly sorry, but I think this takes precedence," Arthur drawled with an confidence he didn't feel. He couldn't help but sneak a glance over at Francis. His soul mate's eyebrow had risen. Before anyone could say anything else Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth and blurt out, "It's about the Timer Articles."
Whatever Ludwig was going to say was stopped short. Francis's other eyebrow rose.
"I've been following those articles," and god help him because Arthur wanted to strangle the French lisp out of his voice. His Timer had to be broken.
"Is that your writing?" the Frenchmen continued.
Arthur glared at the blonde, "Yes, it's mine, you great French baboon."
Ludwig turned green, "Arthur this is Francis Bonnefoy," as if Arthur didn't know that, "he's one of the new Directors elected to the Board."
Arthur pressed his fist to his mouth and stifled a groan. Of course he was. Lovely, just lovely.
"Well that's splendid really..." Arthur screwed up his courage, "because this involves him too."
There was no other way to delay the inevitable, he'd be a man about this. Arthur thrust his left arm out palm up. Someone gasped his name and warm fingers closed around his hand.
"That is my name," came a hushed statement.
"Will your ability to state the obvious be an ongoing experience?" Arthur grumbled as he pointedly staring at the man's shiny shoes, "Because it's not an attractive quality."
The hand around his tightened and Arthur prepared for the Frenchmen to drop it, for him to declare it must be a mistake, for him to suggest they forget this happened. He was decidedly not prepared for a the man to pull him to his chest and snuggle him like some kind of teddy bear.
"Unhand me!" Arthur exclaimed as his nose was mashed into the other man's jacket.
"I think not my petit rosbif," Francis nuzzled into his hair.
A throat cleared and Arthur looked up to see Ludwig looking extremely uncomfortable, "Perhaps you two will want to take some time to," he floundered for words, "get to know each other."
A strangled sound came from Arthur, "Ludwig!"
"I expect an article on these developments within the next two weeks," his boss continued, looking mildly more at ease discussing work, "At least fifteen hundred words. And the rest of your work is to be emailed in as well."
Arthur sounded like a dying fish, but Francis was already pulling him from the office with his hand wrapped around Arthur's. The rest of the floor quieted as they emerged. Arthur could just imagine how it looked. Prickly, skinny Arthur wrapped around a tall sex god. His green gaze cut down anyone who dared catch his eye, but more people were staring at his wrist. Face burning Arthur pulled his hand from Francis's and crossed his arms so no one could see the Timer's mark. Arthur grabbed his bag off his desk and stormed towards the lifts, terrified that Francis would follow him and terrified that he wouldn't.
He did. As they were heading down towards the lobby, they agreed to sit down at a café around the corner to talk. It was still crowded from the morning rush, but Arthur found the background chatter soothing. They both ordered, Arthur a black tea with milk and sugar and Francis a cappuccino. The men found themselves a small table by the back window. Francis folded his long limbs into the chair. Arthur tried not to compare his soul mate to any clichés, because the man was too graceful for words and more lovely than Arthur had been expecting.
"So tell me about yourself Arthur," Francis began with a small grin.
Arthur's nose wrinkled. That was, he was lovely when he wasn't speaking. But the man stayed silent and watchful. His blue eyes were as captivating as Northern Lights. Heat bled across Arthur's face. He wasn't prepared for this. He bit his lip in thought and cast his eyes across the back garden for inspiration. Bright yellow daisies bobbed in the breeze. Two silver rubbish bin glinted in the July sun. Might as well jump in.
"Well as you know I'm a writer," Arthur began, "And I have five brothers."
Francis's eyes rose, "Really? Are you the youngest?"
Arthur scowled, "No, I have two younger brothers, they're twelve... well thirteen today." Arthur laughed, "It's their birthday. They're twins."
A smile light up Francis's face, "Well happy birthday to them! I don't have any siblings," he admitted, "But I've always wanted one."
Arthur rolled his eyes, thinking of the early wake up call the other day, "They're not all that fantastic."
Francis laughed a deep rolling sound that drew Arthur's eyes to his soul mate. His head tilted back showing off a long neck. Slight golden scruff shone in the morning light. God he was an ugly duckling next to this man. Arthur sucked it up though. He'd never claimed to be a great beauty.
"So where do you live? The Village? Battery Park?" Francis asked in between sips of his coffee.
Arthur's jaw clenched and he rolled his tongue across his teeth trying to decide what to say. It was that moment when Francis's blazer caught his eye. A small tag was peeking out from the hem, Armani. Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. That jacket, carelessly draped over the dirty table, was worth more than Arthur's entire wardrobe. This was absolutely ridiculous. He'd been given a faulty Timer. Pushing his chair back, Arthur stood abruptly.
"Look this has been really fun and all, but I've got to go," Arthur scrambled for a legitimate excuse, "put money in the meter."
Francis jerked up also with a stricken look on his face. Arthur's heart twinged, but he ignored it.
Something in him was unwilling to completely give up the notion that this could work out so Arthur suggested, "Maybe we'll talk over the weekend?"
Before Francis could reply Arthur quickly scrawled his mobile number on a nearby napkin. Then he dashed from the café. Francis hollered behind him but Arthur took off for the car park. When he couldn't hear the annoying Frenchmen anymore Arthur slowed his frantic run. He scowled down at the footpath, that was two cups of tea today that he hadn't drunk.
Re: The Timer Articles 7/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-07 12:21 am (UTC)(link)Also so much love for the brotherly/family feeling with Arthur and the twins.
Thank you so much for writing this! I've started to smile every time I see an update for it.
Re: The Timer Articles 7/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)I was worried when I was posting that no one liked it that's why it was comment-less :D and I'm thrilled the shock comes across because he is in every sense of the word! As for Ludwig, when the idea first materialized in my brain he was right there giving orders to Arthur about writing before I'd even thought about Francis! I'd never written him before so I was a tad worried but he really perfect. I love FACE family interactions no matter the relationship and I'm glad you're liking it too!
The last swath of writing should be up later today! Again thanks for taking the time to leave a comment!
Re: The Timer Articles 7/? requester anon
(Anonymous) 2014-02-15 11:27 pm (UTC)(link)thank you
I give you all my eternal love *hugs*
A!A reply!
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 02:45 pm (UTC)(link)