Chosen by the Fates

The Weight of His Words

Ashleigh ~

“I don’t like this.” I don’t even bother to look at my brother as our driver follows after Tiffa and Aisling’s vehicles.

“It’s not like we can tell her we are pretty sure she’s a Lucid?” Sionainn has his arms stretched out across the back of his seat, his usual charming smile replaced by a worried furrow in his brows.

“Yeah, but we are literally leading them nowhere. And this story is full of holes.” I turn my head to watch the mountains as trees fly by. For a moment I remember our triste in the dreaming… the feel of her lips against mine.

Then I recall our eyes meeting at the coffee shop, as strangers today. 

My chest feels painfully tight as a small bit of hope I’d held to is smothered by feelings of loss. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to dwell on things she doesn’t remember. I close my eyes, shoving the memories of my night with her as far back in my mind as I can.

“We aren’t good liars.” Cian’s voice is soft, his eyes half closed and obscured by a tangle of bangs.

Sionainn smiles to himself, “You’d think we would be better at it considering our collective experiences and ages.”

I shake my head, “The ruse won’t last.”

Our driver turns onto a long narrow road. The entire vehicle rocks and rumbles over the unpaved length of it.

“We don’t need it to. We simply need a little time.” Sionainn’s tone is thoughtful.

“A little time for what?” We tried reaching out to her last night. Her mind is locked in isolation and willing to safeguard that space unconsciously at all costs.

“To rebuild our ties to her waking self. To give us the space to gently inquire about what she may dream of or know. Hopefully to help her rediscover something that will allow us to help her.” When I cast a glance his way I can practically see his mind churning as he examines possibilities and potential outcomes.

Sionainn has held it together better than any of us. Not even a trace of his worry or pain is detectable when he offers her his full welcoming smile and attention. It would be selfish of me to assume he can do that because he doesn’t love Delphi the same way I do. We all loved them as deeply, if differently.

I can’t do it. I can’t have those eyes on me as if I am a stranger, while I continue to bear the memories of lifetimes coupled together in the most intimate and trusting of ways. It’s all I can do to interact with her without snapping. I want to take her by the shoulders and shake her, tell her everything, beg her to remember.

Sionainn will have to spearhead 'operation rebuild our friendship.’ All I can do is support him by maintaining whatever semblance of a cold front, and mental self-control I am capable of.

“It’s a good plan.” I grumble. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

Sionainn smiles sadly, “I know you will.”

“Aye.” Cian has removed his headphones, and is looking up at us.

Sionainn reaches across our seats to rest a hand on our shoulders. The warmth of his hand eases the tension in my shoulders and neck just a little. I’m not alone in this.

The vehicle stops. Sionainn turns to speak with our driver, who nods in agreement. The driver will come back for us when we are ready to go.

We gather our things before heading out into the wide clearing we are parked in. Before us is an A-frame log cabin. We are welcomed by the smiling face of Tiffa. Aisling stands behind her, eyes favoring me. Her features are neutral, but I could swear she’s frowning.

I thank my lucky stars, and the mists of the beyond that Sionainn is running lead. I couldn’t do this without him.

***

Aisling ~

Something is off about their story. Tiffa confirmed with me that they are who they say they are. To be specific, she called me with a delighted shriek on the way home. She’s excited and practically star-struck that we get the opportunity to hang out with these guys. Tiffa and I have been best friends for years, so I completely trust her judgement.

However, I can’t for the life of me figure out why some globe-trotting pop group has tucked themselves away in our little neck of the woods and is following us around. But I know they aren’t being completely honest with us, I can just feel it.

Once home I pause one last time to check my phone. Still nothing from Sol. I consider sending another message to ask if he’s alright, but that seems strange to do after just one date. I check my watch. It’s 3:30 pm. 

I hate games. 

I take a slow, deep breath, and decide at this point it doesn’t matter. Any one of my friends, or good relationships would have at least texted something by now after asking me to check in when I got home. Between this, and the rollercoaster of the date, I know enough. I silence any notification settings for the chat.  

I don’t intend to be seeing Sol again. A small part of me whispers that any one of those models at the restaurant would have looked better with him anyway. I hate how it's making me feel, my heart feels as if it is falling. I decide not to focus on the topic anymore, doing my best to let it go as I get out of my car.

An expensive and unmarked van pulls up. The driver gets out and opens the back door. Tiffa is elbowing me, looking like the cat who caught the canary. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are twinkling.

The brothers file out in what could have been a clip from a K-drama. Everything feels like it happens in slow motion, and it’s as if I am seeing the brothers for the first time.

Sionainn steps out first, and when the sunlight catches his angelic hair and features, he practically glows. His posture is tall, poised, and dignified. His smile when his eyes catch ours is warm and inviting. It is a smile that could make fans swoon with just a look.

Ashleigh has darker features, but when the light reflects through his bright eyes they light up. His jacket is a-symmetrical and his clothing is darker, with bits of suede, vinyl, and patterned silks. When a breeze picks up, everything about him flows and dances with it around him as if he was made for the spotlight and to challenge authority. Probably both at the same time. His eyes are on me, and I can feel my cheeks heating up as I realize for the first time just how beautiful and confident he is.

Cian is the darkest featured of the brothers. He is smaller and lithe in build. His hair is cut to perfectly conceal his gaze, his clothing is fashionably distressed and tailored to show off his slender features. His headphones rest around his neck, but he is clearly the shy mysterious one.

Sionainn dismisses the driver politely, and the van departs, leaving the brothers to our mercy. Tiffa is jittery and practically dancing beside me as she waves to them. “Come in! I’ll get us drinks!”

“I hope you mean non-alcoholic?” I whisper.

“I mean whatever they want.” She grins like a schoolgirl, making me laugh.

We exchange greetings, and I can’t help but notice Ashleigh seems quieter, hanging back as if he isn’t comfortable. I remember what Sionainn said about Ashleigh being particularly upset about their missing friend. I wonder if that’s why he’s seemed so rude?

We all follow Tiffa into the house. It looks like she picked up before joining us at the coffee shop. The real question is where she put all the clutter, because she definitely didn’t have time for properly organizing it. “We have coffee, teas, wine, vodka, totally your pick?”  

Sionainn speaks up first, taking a seat in a large round chair by the door, “Let’s all start with some wine?” Cian nods in agreement shrugging as he slides into a giant love seat. Ashleigh nods, flopping down and stretching out on our only couch.

Tiffa calls back, “You got it.”

“Make yourselves at home~” She sing songs as she heads to the kitchen.

The only seat left for me is the opposite corner of the couch Ashleigh is on. I curl up there. “So you guys really are famous, huh?”

Sionainn laughs and nods. “That’s a word for it I would suppose.”

“I’m not sure I’ve heard your music.” I glance between them, admiring their features in the afternoon light.

Sionainn grants me a warm smile, chasing away any concerns I have about the strangeness of our meeting, “We shall have to rectify that one day.”

I hear Miss Meow Meow’s greeting chirp before she jumps up onto the arm of the couch. Ashleigh watches her curiously, shifting to give her space. She slowly blinks at me, then at everyone else in the room, finally turning her attention on Ashleigh. She stretches, her whiskers splaying forward toward him in interest as she sniffs at the air around him.

“What’s your name?” Ashleigh’s voice is gentle as Miss Meow Meow closes the distance between them to head bump his hand.

“Miss Meow Meow,” I answer, watching in rapt attention as his features soften. As his walls fall, he almost seems a little sad and lonely. He carefully caresses her ears and chin which she rewards with loud purring. She daintily climbs into his lap to curl up comfortably.

For half a second I am worried, realizing I should have warned them about my cat. “I’m so sorry, you aren’t allergic are you?” Ashleigh shakes his head, totally focused on petting Miss Meow Meow who is rolling around and enjoying the attention.

Sionainn chuckles, “We love animals. We’d have pets if we weren’t on the road all the time.”

“There was that one time a dog adopted us – ” Cian starts in a soft tone. I’m beginning to realize he is always soft spoken.

“A dog adopted you and you didn’t keep it?” Tiffa has returned with glasses, a bottle of wine, and a cup of coffee for me. She is a waitress at a local bar which has given her a nearly preternatural ability to balance all sorts of food and drink items at once.

I get up to take the coffee, and help pass out glasses as she pours the wine.

“Her name was Star.” Cian mumbles.

Sionainn smiles sadly, “We brought her to the UK with us, got her cleared through a great vet, and adopted her to a loving family.”

“But she chose you?” Tiffa is just standing, holding the wine and cups in disbelief.

Ashleigh’s walls seem to have snapped back into place as his expression becomes one of scrutiny, his tone practical, “Can an animal really ‘choose’ their owner?” As if by coincidence, Miss Meow Meow gets up with a languid stretch, then hops down from his lap.

I snort, fully disagreeing with what his question implies, but decide to bite my tongue.

“Star chose us.” Cian’s voice is gruff, but firm this time. He is looking directly at Ashleigh as if he’s ready to throw down over it.

Sionainn takes a sip of his wine and sighs. “The plane flights wouldn’t have been good for her. And she would have missed us when we were on the road if we left her behind. We decided it would be best if she had a family to love and play with her every day.”

Ashleigh nods, seeming to decide to drop the discussion.

Cian sighs in unspoken agreement with Sionainn before finally adding, “Well one day, I’ll have a dog. But for now it’s nice just to explore the world with my brothers.” It’s the most I’ve heard him say, and I feel like I got to witness a small piece of how gentle his spirit truly is.

As I go to sit on the couch, Tiffa takes the corner I was in, pushing me bodily toward Ashleigh. I manage to keep my coffee from spilling as I settle. 

His shoulder bumps and settles against mine and the warmth feels familiar. The feeling I woke up to. A flush rises into my cheeks as I try to forget, but I find myself staring at where our shoulders are touching.

I dare to glance at Ashleigh, hoping he can’t see my blush. For once his eyes aren’t on me. Gripping my mug in both hands, I sigh in relief into my coffee.

“Well I think it’s special that Star chose you, and totally sweet what you guys did for her. It’s obvious she was right to put her trust in you.”

Cian’s lips are pulled in a small smile of appreciation at Tiffa's reply. From there the conversation begins to dynamically move between their tours, their favorite places to visit, what they think of our city, and how long we’ve lived here.

I listen, slowly relaxing into the strange sense of comfort sitting close to Ashleigh gives me. 

Although I still can’t recall the whole dream, I’m beginning to remember more than just the embarrassing intimate interactions. As he joins in the conversation, he almost seems to be an echo of the version of him I’d spent time with in my dream. 

There was something important he’d tried to tell me…

I reprimand myself. I don’t know Ashleigh. Any dream I had of him was likely a reflection of my own insecurities and fears. Its best if I don’t entertain made up hopes about who he may be as a person. 

I try to chase away the sense of importance about the dream, but my heart twists in my chest.  

“Oh! I almost forgot the year books.” Tiffa sets her glass down before jumping up. The whole couch springs, and I am so distracted by my own thoughts that my coffee mug is knocked free from my grip.

I gasp as the coffee splashes across both me and Ashleigh.

Tiffa’s voice is barely audible, “Woops.” She is smiling nervously.

All I can do is stare in shock, eyes wide, hands coming up to my own mouth self-consciously. “I’m so… so sorry.”

Ashleigh is equally as startled, a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The coffee has literally soaked the front of his top, splattered the suede of his jacket, and is soaking into my own top. “I… I think I have an oversized shirt you could borrow– is yours washable?”

Tiffa leans in and picks up the mug for us as I nervously ask that last. I can’t even imagine how much his clothing might be worth.

“It needs to be hand washed…” He answers. His tone isn’t angry, just still dumbfounded.

I get up, “I can do that while Tiffa finds her yearbooks? Is that okay?”

Tiffa nods, “Yep! On it.”

Miss Meow Meow has already happily resettled in Cian’s lap now. 

Sionainn is smirking at us across his wine glass, eyes alight mischievously. “We are happy to relax here with our wine. You do what you need to.” Something in his tone catches me off guard, causing me to regard him a second longer than I would have. He simply returns my gaze with an innocent smile.

I shake my head, “Follow me.” It comes out more demanding than I mean it to. But Ashleigh gets up, sets his wine glass down, and follows my order without question.

We walk through the narrow hallway toward the bathroom, “I’m so sorry again… I-“

He interrupts me in a muttered voice, “Things happen.”

Our bathroom is a decent size, but still a bit small for the two of us at the same time. I turn around, bumping into him in the process. His body is warm, and even in the dim lighting of the doorway his eyes shine brightly.

“I… Uhm… I-“ I try inching to the side in an attempt to get around him. He shifts to try and help me, a blush rising into his cheeks. He glances away. I end up pressed against the wall, with the entire length of his body pressed into mine.

I freeze as more memories of my dream come back to me. Everything about his body feels the same as the dream version of him did. My heart flutters. I become acutely aware that he’s gone still as well. He is watching me carefully.

If I kissed him, would his lips feel the same? I reprimand my imagination and shove the thoughts of my dream away. None of that was real. This man is a stranger, and it couldn’t possibly feel the same.

“I forgot to get you a shirt first…” I glance out the doorway, across the hall to where my room is. “I’m sorry.” I mutter, still blushing.

“You keep saying that…” His voice is hushed, his expression is unreadable.

“I know… I’m sorry- I mean…”

“Are you a sorry person?” He arches an eyebrow.

My logical mind suddenly snaps back to itself at the apparent judgement. The heat in my cheeks is no longer from how familiar and warm his body feels, but frustration at how rude he always is.

“No. It’s called being considerate. Which apparently you have no familiarity with.” My tone is sharp.

He leans in, bracing himself with a hand beside my head on the wall my back is pressed against. His bright eyes study me carefully, “I know how to be considerate. Last I checked it doesn’t require so many apologies.”

I feel anger rising in me at his words, but I also can’t help but admire how beautiful his features are.  His hushed voice sends chills across my skin.

“I can’t imagine you even know how to apologize.” My tone is snappish, but when he leans even closer, my heart practically leaps into my throat. 

His eyes and voice are ice cold. “You don’t know me.”

I logically know that to be true. But with him against me like this I can no longer keep the memories of my intimate dream about him at bay. Moments and sensations flood through my mind.

Some part of me whispers irrationally at me, what if I do know him, though? 

Not to mention, every argumentative cell in my body wants to disagree with anything he says on principle right now.

His face is so close to mine I can feel the heat of his breath as it falls across my cheeks and lips. Was it my imagination or is he breathing just a little too fast? I know I am.

A bit of the conversation from my dream comes back to me. He apologized to me for something in my dream... Well that should prove the dream can't be true.

I close my eyes, only opening them when a chill passes across me.

He has moved as far back as he is able. His body brushes against me lightly as he manages to slide past.

Without looking back at me he begins to remove his jacket and shirt.

I rush from the bathroom wordlessly to get a T-shirt for him.

I take a moment when I get to my room to lean against the door and catch my breath. 

What am I doing? 

Something about my returning dream memories pulls at me. Dream Ashleigh said something important to me. What was it?  Lord, he was looking at me just now the same way he had in my dream. 

I push off from the door and search for the largest T-shirt I can find. The best I can come up with is one of those extra-long pajama dress T-shirts. This one has a graphic of a little rainbow strudel cat flying through space. And it's bright pink. 

I snort. I'm not one for grudges or revenge, but I can't help but think some part of me is a little too happy about the idea of making him wear it. Perhaps can be his penance for how curt and entitled he seems to be at each of our meetings? 

When I get back to the bathroom, he is waiting topless. 

My breath catches, my eyes involuntarily roaming the graceful length of his neck, the crevices and curves of his shoulders and arms. Then down his chest. I curse my traitor libido. 

Why does he have to be so dang attractive?  

I toss the crumpled pink shirt unceremoniously to him turning myself bodily away to break the trance. I grab a hand towel and some gentle soaps from the cupboard. 

It’s impossible to miss that this is apparently one of the places Tiffa stashed some of the clutter from the house. When I turn back to him, I'm not surprised to see he even makes the pink pajama shirt look sexy.

"You just look good in everything, don't you?" I grumble as I start the water in the sink and carefully begin working to get the coffee stain out of his clothing.

Ashleigh shrugs, "It's our job. We spend all of our waking time strictly dieting, dancing, and practicing our vocals and routines."

Waking time...The phrasing feels intentional. 

More of our dream conversation comes back to me, and I grow still again. I notice that when I still myself and wait, instead of reaching, the memories come to me. 

'You feel real.' 'And if I am?’... In my dream he'd implied he's real. I cast a sidelong glance at Ashleigh. 

He is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over the little strudel rainbow cat. He even makes the pink pajama shirt look as stoic and broody as he is right now. 

As I am staring openly at him a huge piece of something I'd said to dream Ashleigh returns to me, 

'Then it seems simple on my end. Either this is entirely a dream, in which case I enjoy myself with a beautiful man. Or we've known and loved one another forever, you've been looking for me, and found me in this dream. In which case we both enjoy ourselves, and maybe I remember more. I'm leaning toward the former, but I'm not sure why the latter would be bad.' 

Ashleigh doesn't notice my gaze at first. I watch his breathing and realize he's doing the same slow breathing I noticed him doing earlier. The same meditative breathing my dad taught me as a kid. 

It's not possible. I know it's not possible. But I find my mind working as I try to figure out how to ask him about the dream without sounding like I'm losing my mind. 

And without giving away that I had a s*x dream about a total stranger. Uhg.

I'm about to look away when Ashleigh notices I'm no longer looking at the wash, but at him. He arches one eyebrow at me wordlessly for a long moment. 

"I forgive you."

My entire train of thought is thrown as righteous irritation floods it. "Excuse me?"

"You looked like you were about to say sorry again." He looks almost like he's about to smirk, which just frustrates me all over again.

I turn back to the wash with a huff, determined to clean his shirt. I will figure out how to ask my own dumb dream question when I've cooled down. 

"You don't have to stand there and watch me wash your shirt anyway," I mumble irritably.

"I just thought you might want the company." He sounds so genuinely earnest that I am caught off guard. 

I'd almost forgotten that I was the one who spilled my drink on him. I suddenly feel bad for being so irritable. 

I pause to look up again, "Thank you." 

"No. Thank you. 

The designer would be upset if I returned that shirt stained. It's a one of a kind." His features soften once more. As his walls come down I experience the overwhelming comfort of familiarity. The gentle exchange puts me at ease.

I decide I do want to try to ask my outlandish question about dreams. 

"So, I have a sort of weird question..." I pause, thinking over the wording, intentionally keeping my gaze downcast at the wash. I can feel his eyes on me.

"You... don't happen to have dreams that are real... where you visit other people... do you?"

The silence in the room becomes abruptly palpable. When he hasn't answered me for an uncomfortable length of time, I look up to be sure he heard. 

He is staring at me as if stricken. His eyebrows are furrowed in pain, mouth is drawn in a tight line, and his bright eyes are wet. 

"I... I'm sorry..." I don't know what else to say, I don't understand what I said wrong.

He closes the distance between us in one step, his hands grasping my shoulders. He turns me gently to face him directly, his gaze holding mine with an intensity I've never experienced from anyone before.

"Please stop apologizing." His voice is a rough whisper. 

"It's a weird question I know... I just-" 

He shakes his head, holding a finger up to my lips.

"It's the right question. 

Yes. I do."  

My heart hammers against my chest as the weight of his words hits me full force.