The very last thing I need is a new WIP, but the muse disagrees, vehemently...
(I am still working on stories for April is the Cruelest Month, the multi-chaps I've already partly posted, and a whole slew of multi-chaps that I've got started in various states of pre-planning. And that's on top of the WH&S Course I'm doing. One more fic in the works is nothing. It's finnnneee.)
The credits rolled, and bodies stretched from where they had been perched on the lounges and chairs, and even the floor, of the Amber Room.
Rhapsody Angel sniffed, and dabbed at her face with a handkerchief. “That was so beautiful,” she said.
The other Angel pilots made enthusiastic noises of agreement, and the Captains present made less convincing noises.
Only one member of the audience was silent, and Destiny glared at where Doctor Fawn was intent on writing in a notebook. “Docteur, if you insist on continuing to work, why do you even come to our soirées cinéma?”
Fawn glanced at the screen, where the lists of names still scrolled up, “Sorry, Destiny, that film wasn’t really my thing.”
Symphony, now standing, planted her hands on her lips and glared down at the doctor. “They were soulmates! Don’t you believe in soulmates?”
Fawn looked at her, before glancing wryly down at his own hands. “The one person – the only person in the whole world who I can truly love and who loves me in return? I guess I don’t.”
Melody hit him lightly on the shoulder. “Destiny’s original point still stands, if you don’t stop obsessing over your work and go out and participate in activities with other people, you’ll never find that person.”
Fawn glanced down at his hands again, right hand moving to touch the base of his left ring finger. He looked back up at Melody. “Well, considering that I’m past the average age of movie soulmates, if that person exists, I guess I’ve already met them and blown them off.”
The Angels all stared at him in consternation as the Captain shifted uncomfortably. “That’s so … sad,” Rhapsody finally said, awkwardly.
Fawn smiled at her, a big fake smile that didn’t convince even as it warned not to push the subject. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, his voice and manner forcedly airy. “They’d understand, surely. After all,” an edge of bitterness crept in, “they’re my soulmate.”
