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Chapter Text

London, December 21

Benedict frowned as a bus approached the curb, the wrong bus for him if the flashing neighborhood sign atop was any indication. His frown deepened as he checked his phone and saw the arrival time for his bus wasn’t for another five minutes.

Benedict let out a small groan, which he then immediately regretted as he 

inhaled second-hand cigarette smoke from the man smoking next to him. Benedict coughed and turned away in disgust but then also came to regret this decision as the older lady on his other side sneezed directly in front of his face. His annoyance quickly turned into frustration.

Oh, the curse of public transportation.

Benedict winced and causally wiped his face with his coat sleeve, as to not offend the lady, before burying his face deep into his red scarf, counting and down the seconds until he’d be home to his flat, far away from this bus stop and its germs and where he can contently crash into his bed and sleep this tiresome day, and tiresome week , away. 

Benedict had been spending almost every day, for hours upon endless hours, in his studio for the past two weeks finishing up a commission for the holidays and, needless to say, he was bone tired and exhausted out of his bloody mind. He was glad that he had managed to finish the painting by today and was now ready for some much needed rest.

Benedict checked his watch again, even though the act was basically useless as it had only been a few seconds since his last time check. But the screeching of bus tires caused his attention to redirect and looked up as the approaching bus pulled up in front of him. Out of boredom, Benedict aimlessly observed the crowd of people shuffling out of the big red bus. He scanned the group of departing passengers before indifferently moving on to the bus itself with its familiar red color and double set of windows, one on top of the other.

Benedict was just about to cast his attention back to his watch when something glittery suddenly caught his eye in one of the windows. It was a piece of shiny fabric, a bright pink bow that was attached to a head of red curls. And as Benedict shifted his gaze into the window, looking at the girl sitting behind it, his breath abruptly paused and his heart skipped a beat.

Because sitting there, across from him in a bus window with a glittering pink bow in her hair, was the most beautiful girl Benedict had ever laid his eyes on. Long red curls that were the definition of luscious framed a heart shaped face with dazzling blue eyes and pink plump lips that Benedict was quite sure would fit perfectly against his own. And although she was sitting and a majority of her body was hidden underneath the window ( blasted bus ), Benedict could just make out the curves of her body and the fullness of her breasts that made his own body (unashamedly) flood with desire.

And, with her beauty rendering him speechless, the only other word he could come up with as he stared at this girl was muse . She was a bloody muse. A nymph of nature, the pearl of the sea, what poets described, and what all artists desired to paint and sculpt. And Benedict knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was his muse.

For all of his artistic career, through art schools and art shows to his small studio and requested commissions, Benedict had only ever dreamed of having a muse, much less of a muse as beautiful as this girl on the bus. Oh there were pretty and ‘hot’ girls all over London but rarely Benedict ever saw a truly beautiful one, where elegance twins with simplicity and naturalness dominate the artificial.

And there was just something about her, this girl on the bus with a pink bow in her hair, something that Benedict, who was experiencing it to the fullest, couldn’t explain. Just by merely looking at her Benedict could feel himself going mad. It was as if everything in his life suddenly made sense and every part of his being slid into the right place. 

Benedict didn’t just want this girl; he needed her. It was now of the utmost importance that Benedict was allowed to hold her and kiss her and make her laugh and prevent her tears and to just love her. It felt like destiny, this sudden connection, like Benedict was meant to love this girl even though he didn’t know her name and she was just a stranger with a pink bow in her hair. And although there was no logic or sense to it, Benedict knew, with his whole heart, that this girl was his and he was hers. 

Benedict desired to paint her portrait across a thousand canvases and display them in the grandest of castles while at the same time possessing the urge to gouge anyone else’s eyes who look at her like he does. He had a sudden desire to build her up a house in any way she pleased and to fill it with whatever nonsense she wanted. To be with her, in the fullest form, was now his goal, his fate in life.

The girl on the bus with a pink bow in her hair did not notice Benedict at first, fully engrossed in a book that Benedict could just make out to be The Great Gatsby (by God, Benedict had never before been so jealous of an inanimate object). But then by some fate (because it sure as hell was fate), the girl looked up from her book and immediately locked eyes with Benedict. There was a shift in the brightness of her eyes as the girl looked at him and Benedict felt relief pass through him at the recognition of his very same feelings pass over the girl’s face. She knew of it too.

The girl made a gesture with her head toward the front of the bus and Benedict suddenly remembered where they really were. He took a step toward the bus door, ready to get on it and dash toward the girl’s seat, but it would seem his favor with fate had run out. For while he had been staring enchantingly at his soulmate from the sidewalk, the last of the new bus passengers had gotten on and the door was shutting. 

And before Benedict even had time to react, to shout or run, the bus was pulling away from the stop. Benedict could do nothing more than to stand there, in the biting cold London air, mouth agape as he lost everything he just gained. The girl, his girl, trapped in her moving bus seat could also do nothing more about it. With a mournful look on her face, she gave Benedict a little goodbye wave before the bus turned a corner and she was gone and Benedict was left alone at the bus stop.

Chapter Text

“Excuse me, do you happen to know a woman with curly red hair and bright blue eyes?”

“Do you have any girl friends that are redheads?”

“I was just wondering if any of the people in your class have also read The Great Gatsby.

And if they have red hair. And if they’re a girl.”

“I think she’s about this tall, and she has these beautiful red curls and these bright blue eyes and it’s like when you meet her gaze it’s almost like swimming in a sunny ocean, you know?”

“Hi, yes, I’m looking for my soulmate.”

*****

London, Six Months Later

“It’s absolutely hopeless !” Benedict exclaimed, slumping in his chair and burying his face in his hands. He looked almost close to tears. “I’ll never find her!”

“Benedict, have you ever considered that this girl might not be your soulmate?” Anthony raised one eyebrow in question but quickly reversed his features into a frown as Benedict glared daggers at him. “What, I was just saying?”

“Oh, don’t be so rude, Anthony,” Kate said, scolding her husband. Turning to Benedict, she patted his hand and smiled gently. “Don’t worry too much about it, Benny, I’m sure if it is meant to be, she’ll turn up soon.”

“But what if she doesn’t, ” Benedict said, panic edging his voice. “ Or, what if I do find her and it doesn’t work out? Like we meet and she finds me repulsive or crazy or, oh my god, has no memory of me?” Now, actual tears glinted in his eyes.

“Well then, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Kate replied softly, giving Benedict’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, don’t worry so much,” Anthony nodded, clapping his brother on the back. “I doubt she’ll do any of those things. But maybe her husband or boyfriend-”

Kate slapped Anthony with such force that he toppled off his chair and fell to the floor. It was able to make Benedict laugh and even force a rather large smile on his face and a laugh to . But even still, Benedict's joy was shortlived, and his worries clouded his mind. 

Chapter Text

London, September

Benedict pushed himself back on his seat, pursing his lips as he looked up at the painting in front of him. He’d just finished it and it had taken him about a week's labor. Usually after he finished a piece, Benedict would often feel accomplished, relieved and proud of himself for his work. But as Benedict gazed at the portrait in front of him, all he could feel was an overwhelming sadness and disappointment.

The girl from the bus stared back at him, all beautiful with the hues he had used and bright from the sun in his studio. Benedict turned his head, trying to assess if he had gotten the color of her hair right or the frame of her body correct. His sighting of her had been brief and so very long ago that such details were starting to fray from his memory. But even though it had been months since his last sighting of her and he had yet to meet her again, Benedict still remembers and by god he will never forget.

He may not know the exact shade of her blue eyes or the length of her lashes but Benedict will always know dear the way her eyes sparkled when they saw him for the first time and how her eyelashes fluttered prettily as a look of consciousness hit her, like she had just been asleep and the sight of Benedict had awaken her to a new reality.

Benedict may not be as business savvy as Anthony or academically articulate like his sister Eloise or, overall, as intelligent as any of his siblings but if he knew one thing in life it was that that girl on the bus, with her pretty pink bow and bright eyes, was his soulmate. It was as factual as it was bizarre and as realistic as it was fantasy. To have a soulmate is to hold a fairytale. It was tangible, yes, but did that mean it was truly real ? 

But Benedict knew it to be true, had to, believe it with all his heart, and he knew the girl had known it too and that was all that truly mattered. 

And Benedict had to believe, he did believe because wasn’t a soulmate all he had ever wanted in life? To have a person who understood him and loved him despite it, a person who would know him in and out, to have a person to just be with. It was all Benedict had wished and desired for.

Because it seemed, for almost all of his life, Benedict had been alone. Oh, he had his siblings and family and uni friends. But he had always had this feeling, deep in the pit of stomach, rumbling like a quiet thunderstorm, that no one in his life, not his brothers or sisters or mother,  truly got him. Truly knew Benedict. They thought they did, but it was just a different interpretation for everyone. The good son, the dependable brother, the funny friend. Benedict had a collection of masks that looked well-fitted on the outside but in reality was actually pinching his skin. Truthfully, Benedict didn’t even know himself, who he was with his naked face or if any of the masks were actually true or false. 

But when he had locked eyes with the girl on the bus and he had found his soulmate, Benedict knew he wouldn’t have to worry about any of that again. Because even though he did not know her or even her name , Benedict knew that she was the one, the one to lift his masks and to see him for he truly was. And he would be the same for her, because they were connected, they were soulmates . He was sure of it.

It was the reason he’d spent the last nine months trying to find her, searching every corner of London, along every path of the thames. He took the same bus as he did in December in the hopes he’d see her again. But Benedict had had no such luck. Not even another glimpse, or a friend of friend’s who recognizes her description. It was as if she was an apparition, disappearing mere moments after he viewed her, leaving Benedict mad and screaming at the fates to show him more. 

Benedict slowly got out of his chair like an old man who had the weight of time on his shoulders. He walked up to his canvas and picked it up with ease. He then walked over to a corner of his studio and placed it down gently on the floor. Benedict could feel the painting’s stare on him as he collected his belongings and left for his flat, closing the door on his most recent portrait of the girl on the bus, along with all of the other copies of it. 

Chapter Text

London, December

One Year Later

“Where’s Colin?” Benedict asked as he shrugged off his coat and bent down to kiss Kate on the cheek. Benedict had just walked over to his brother’s flat for Kate’s annual holiday party and after a long and snowy walk, he was in desperate need of a drink with his siblings.

“Oh, he’s collecting his girlfriend from her work,” Kate answered as she hugged Benedict tightly.

“Colin has a girlfriend?” Benedict blinked in surprise. Although they lived in the same city, Benedict barely saw his brother except for holiday and family events like today. It was impossible for the two to meet up their schedules; Colin was always away abroad for work and Benedict, more often than not, was huddled in his studio like a hermit.

“Mum didn’t tell you?” Anthony said as he gave Benedict a one armed hug. “They’ve been dating for about, what, three months now?”

“Four.” Kate corrected. “He met her at a pub, I think. Colin said she’s studying journalism or something of the sort.”

“So does that mean I am to be the only single person here?” Benedict asked incredulously as he looked around the full flat of people, all of whom seemed to have glinting wedding rings or were huddled under the mistletoe in pairs of two. 

“Oh, cheer up, Benny, it's not that bad.” Anthony assured him with a slap on the back.

“And Benedict,” Kate said to him conspiratorially. “I’ve invited some girls from work and Edwina has brought some of her uni friends. Perhaps one of them will be your mystery girl.” Kate winked at him but all Benedict could do was frown.

“Oh, I doubt it.” He grumbled, a sincerity to his despondency.

It had been a year, a whole year, since Benedict had first laid eyes on his soulmate and he was no closer to finding her than he was to becoming King. And while he had spent the last year of his life and still used every free fragment of his time to search all the corners of London for her, Benedict had practically lost all hope in his pursuit. He tried to comfort himself with the logic that the girl might not even live in London, or England for that matter and that his attempts were just delusional and pitiful. 

But he also argued with himself that they had had a connection , the girl and him, and he had known that it wasn’t just one sided, that she had felt it too. And surely if she had felt their connection, saw the clear fact of their being soulmates, she would have stayed in London and searched for him too, wouldn’t she’d?

“How about we get you a drink,” Kate said to Benedict, interrupting his sorrowful musings. She grasped his arm and steered him towards the kitchenette. 

“You are an angel,” Benedict praised. A strong drink, perhaps some vodka or brandy, was just what he needed. Perhaps if he drank his way to the New Year he might finally get over the girl from the bus. But, then again, how truly easy was it for one to forget about and let go of their soulmate?

“What type of liquor do you have again?” Benedict asked Kate. But before she could respond, a loud knock sounded against the flat door and both Benedict and Kate turned their attention to Anthony as he rushed to answer the door.

“Oh, it’s Colin!” Anthony exclaimed as he lowered his eye from the peep-hole and quickly reached to turn the door-knob.

“Colin!” Kate ran up to the door as it swung open to reveal Benedict’s grinning younger brother, his smile widening as his sister-in-law embraced him and Anthony patted his back.

“Such a warm welcome,” Colin said in his usual cheeky tone and Benedict couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Always one to make a joke out of everything, that one.

“We haven’t seen you in so long, always off traveling,” Anthony said as he folded his arms in very much an older brother-ly manner. “Anything less than a tackle hug would not be appropriate.”

“It is truly good to see you, Colin,” Kate beamed and then Benedict noted that her smile grew bigger as she turned her head to Colin’s side. “Oh, and this must be Penelope!”

Both Anthony and Kate turned their bodies towards Colin’s girlfriend, forming a blockade along with Colin which prevented a curious Benedict from seeing her. But then Anthony and Kate finished their greetings and parted their bodies to the side like the red sea and then Benedict suddenly found himself looking into the most dazzling pair of ocean blue eyes. The most  familiar blue eyes.

Oh, God . 

Benedict’s stomach dropped and his intestines twisted and his muscles grew rigid and his whole body just seemed to shut down on the spot. His mind went numb and all the sound in the room, in the world seemingly turned off and Benedict was frozen in time as he stared at Colin’s girlfriend.

Because she was her .

The girl from the bus, the girl from a year ago, his girl, his soulmate , was here, it was her , the girl standing in front of him. She was the very same, the long red curls, the heart-shaped face, the blue eyes, the plump lips; it was all the same and she was as beautiful as the day Benedict had laid eyes on her. He was torn between laughing and crying. Because here she was, the girl he had spent his last year searching for, she was here , in front of him, in the flesh, staring back at him with Colin’s arm around her shoulder. 

Colin…

Benedict suddenly un-froze, the air rushing back into his ears as he was suddenly catapulted back into reality. His mind became alert again and his body and stomach came back to him in a bolt, making him want to throw up.

Benedict had finally found the girl from the bus, his girl, his soulmate , who was now the girlfriend of his little brother. Fate was truly cruel.

“N-nice to meet you,” Benedict stuttered out to Penelope, well aware of the long pause it had taken to introduce himself and of the peculiar looks he was receiving from his family. But he notably missed the horrified look on Penelope’s face, almost an exact mirror of his. Benedict turned to Colin. “And great to see you.” 

Benedict had managed to swallow down his sickliness just enough for those weak greetings but couldn’t handle it any further. He quickly and clumsily excused himself to the bathroom, rushing in drunken stupor to Anthony and Kate’s bedroom and private bathroom, not missing Colin’s quip of, “Looks like someone already had too much to drink tonight”. 

Benedict was able to make it to his brother’s bathroom and lift up the toilet seat just in time, as a rush of sickness came up his throat and made him retch into the seat. It was only the first of the nausea and subsequently brought with it an onslaught of violent vomiting, Benedict heaving into the toilet bowl for what seemed like a lifetime.

It stung his throat and made his stomach feel like a battlefield, but Benedict didn’t even think it painful in comparison. Because, for some unbelievably pathetic spiritual reason, the pain of his heart felt much greater. 

It was as if some cruel devil had taken a sword and was cutting up his heart and his soul. Cut, cut, cut. Every hope, slash. Every dream, slash. His soulmate, his dream of a person who’d finally understand him in a world of people who did not, slash slash slash . 

And with every cut, every slash, Benedict cried, and cried, and cried. The sound of his own sobs filled his ears and it echoed all around, so loud and dominating that it eventually just felt like the normal backdrop of the world. As the cuts became deeper and deeper, and multiplied into more and more, Benedict cried more and more. He cried for the girl from the bus, for Colin’s girlfriend Penelope, for his soulmate he couldn’t have. His tears streamed out of him, like a painful flow of blood. Benedict cried and wept and sobbed and wailed and cried into there were no more tears left in him and no more cries for him to howl.

Eventually he weakened enough that he could feel the stronghold of arms around him and Anthtony’s soothing words coming into his ear. His sickness had died down enough for the vomiting to stop, leaving Benedict depleted and heaving, slumped over a toilet bowl with puffy red eyes and a sore throat. 

Benedict barely registered the movement of his limbs as Anthony and Kate helped him up from the floor and didn’t even notice the hardness of the floor or the softness of the mattress as they guided them to their bed. He didn’t have the energy to protest as Anthony tucked him into bed and Kate placed a glass of warm milk on the bedside, like he was just a little kid. The couple dimmed the light and closed the door gently, leaving Benedict to the peace of sleep.

And even though he shouldn’t have and that he now knew better, as Benedict drifted off to sleep and began his dreams, he still dreamt of the girl from the bus, with her long red hair and blue eyes and pink sparkly bow and the life he’d have with her.