please don't be in love with someone else

1

James has never believed in love at first sight.

(But then, he'd never met Lily Evans before, had he?)

The first time he sees her, he feels the breath escape him, and for a moment wonders whether he's suddenly developed asthma—he can't come up with another explanation for his lungs' lack of functioning as he makes eye contact with the brightest green he's ever seen.

Her eyes alone are fucking amazing, so it takes a second for him to see the shiny, dark red-orange hair pulled into a haphazard messy bun, the blazer and pantsuit pristine despite her frazzled expression.

She's ahead of him in line, and they wait beside the counter for their orders; she's on the phone, speaking rapidly and trying to keep her voice quiet.

"Yes, Tuney, of course I'll be there soon, I've already notified my boss, and I—" a wince, the shrill voice on the other end audible, if indecipherable. "No—I, I'm sorry Petunia. I can't—"

"Large hot hazelnut, black!" The barista calls out, and the young woman he's staring at like a creeper hurries forward, smiling earnestly and whispering "thank you!" out of her phone's range.

She rushes past, but an older man isn't paying attention and assumes she'll be the one to move out of the way, and James can see it all happening a second before it does, the way he does when playing basketball.

She maintains her footing—barely—but everything in her heavy laden arms tips over, and he's reaching just in time to grab the coffee and her phone, though the pager and half-eaten muffin are a lost cause.

She stammers her thanks as she drops to the floor to grab the cracked pager and now-trash muffin, tucking it into her elbow. A hand extends to take the phone and coffee from him—"you saved the essentials, honestly, what a godsend!" said completely unironically. A small smile graces her face as they make eye contact once more, and he manages to get out, "Uh—no problem. Sure. Yeah."

And like that, she's gone.

/

He doesn't let himself dwell on the gorgeous woman, who Sirius has dubbed the 'drop-dead redhead' despite never having seen her.

They'd never had a conversation, never even exchanged names, and he won't be one of those people who replays such a small moment over and over until he sees something there that's not. She was beautiful, and props to her for that—she seemed nice enough, and he's always been glad when someone rather attractive is kind, like they somehow deserve it more—but her having the most amazing and thoughtful eyes of any human he's ever met is only aesthetic, and irrelevant at the end of the day.

Dating is already a bit of a mess in their world, anyway, soul mates being what they are.

There's the subset of people who don't bother to date until they meet their soulmate, figuring the universe knows what it's doing, and why waste anyone's time or love when the one could come knocking. The ones who say fuck it to the universe thinking it knows best and refuse to ever be with their soulmate, going to far as to marry others. (Sometimes, their soulmate is happy for them when they meet, and they become incredibly close, platonically, for the rest of their lives; others, messy fights; in some cases, divorce, custody battles.)

James isn't quite sure where he stands on the matter. He's had his soul mark since he turned ten, same as everyone else; a hoof on his rib cage, which could've been one of many cloven animals, of course, though the nature books he's scoured seem to indicate that it's a deer print.

(It's a possibility that his assurance is wishful thinking. Sirius is convinced it's a pig hoof, to match his personality.)

It's tricky. He'd like to believe in the idea of soul mates—the idea that everyone has a perfect person, just for them, a match to their every imperfection. That if fate, or the Devas, or Allah—whoever has control of the universe—has so much power, in this one matter it can be used to help humanity find their way.