Searching Soul - a Mikhaiah au

Chapter 4: Beautiful Stranger

"You're a mystery, Gibrael," Soul blurted out, her voice cutting through the quiet night. Gibrael looked up, her eyes meeting Soul's, a touch of curiosity in her gaze.

"Says the stranger I found drenched in the rain outside my laundromat at nine in the evening," Gibrael countered, her tone soft but firm. "If anyone's a mystery here, it's probably not me." She took another slow sip of her noodles, her expression serious.

Soul chuckled, the sound light in contrast to Gibrael's mood. They sat in a small corner of the convenience store, savoring their cheap dinner. Despite the warmth of their surroundings, there was heaviness in the air between them, like a cloud of unspoken thoughts hovering just above their heads.

After a long pause, Gibrael's voice broke through again, quieter this time. "Who are you, Soul?"

Soul swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her cup as she formed a small, almost evasive smile. "As I said, I'm not from around here."

Gibrael rolled her eyes, earning another soft laugh from Soul, but it was a hollow sound, barely concealing her hesitation.

"Does it really matter, Gibrael?" Soul's voice was fragile, as though she were afraid the answer might break the fragile connection they had.

"Of course it does," Gibrael replied, her voice tinged with a subtle desperation. "I need to know you're not just some stranger who'll... take advantage of me." Her words trailed off, heavy with the weight of her past.

Soul sighed, the tension in her chest almost unbearable. She set her cup down gently, turning toward Gibrael with a look of resignation. "Before I tell you, I want you to promise me something. Promise you'll listen, and promise you'll believe every word. Because once I start, I won't be able to say it again."

Confusion flickered across Gibrael's face, but she nodded, sensing the gravity of the moment.

Soul hesitated before speaking again. "Good evening, Gibrael," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Countess Soul of the Western Isle of Erythea. It's... somewhere in southern Spain."

Gibrael nearly spat out her noodles, her eyes wide in disbelief, but she took Soul's hand anyway. "No way," she muttered, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the absurdity.

"Yes way," Soul said, smiling softly as she pulled her hand back. But her smile quickly faded, replaced by a haunted look. "I came here for a reason."

Her voice cracked, and Gibrael instinctively reached out, her hand hovering in the air between them, unsure whether to touch or not. Sensing the hesitation, Soul continued, pushing through the emotion. "I'm 23 years old."

"No way!" Gibrael exclaimed, her earlier seriousness breaking for a moment. "I thought we were the same age!"

Soul laughed, a genuine sound this time. "You make it sound like I'm very old."

Gibrael raised an eyebrow playfully. "By the way you dress, I should probably call you 'Tita.'"

Both of them erupted into laughter, the tension easing for just a moment as their playful banter filled the air.

Still smiling, Soul cleared her throat once more. "Shall we head to the ice cream station?" she asked, her eyes softening as she looked at Gibrael.

"Yes!" Gibrael replied with enthusiasm, her earlier tension replaced by a childlike excitement. Together, they made their way to the ice cream freezer, picking out their treats and heading outside into the crisp night air.

"You must really like the moon," Gibrael remarked, breaking the silence as they sat on a park bench near her building. The ice cream in their hands was slowly melting, but neither seemed to mind. The night was still, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale light over the scene.

Soul looked up at the sky, her gaze distant. "I do," she replied softly, almost as if speaking to herself.

"I noticed," Gibrael said, her voice quieter now, more introspective. "Every night, you look at the moon like... like it holds something precious to you."

Soul turned to her, smiling faintly, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "It does," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Gibrael pretended not to notice the tear that escaped and quickly turned her gaze back to the sky, giving Soul her space.

After a long pause, Soul spoke again, trying to shift the mood. "Hey," she said, nudging Gibrael's arm. "Whoever finishes their ice cream last has to do something for the other."

Gibrael grinned, the challenge sparking a little light in her eyes. "No biggie," she said, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

Silence fell between them again as they both focused on devouring their ice cream, their playful competitiveness a brief escape from the weight they both carried. The gentle strumming of a nearby street performer added a layer of calm to the night.

Suddenly, Gibrael groaned, realizing she had fallen behind. "I hate you!" she cried, her voice filled with mock outrage as Soul finished her ice cream first, laughing triumphantly.

"Let's walk," Soul suggested with a mischievous glint in her eye, and Gibrael followed her, accepting her defeat.

They strolled around the park, the night air cool against their skin. As they neared the street performer, Soul stopped abruptly. She turned to Gibrael, her eyes shining with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

"Sing for me," Soul said suddenly, her words soft but insistent.

"S-sing?" Gibrael stammered, her heart skipping a beat. "I haven't sung in years. I wouldn't even know where to start."

Soul smiled, her expression gentle and reassuring. "I wasn't asking for a performance in front of everyone," she teased, though her eyes twinkled with a new idea.

Gibrael laughed nervously, shaking her head. "No way."

But Soul's grin widened, and without warning, she approached the street performer, her voice bright and confident. "Excuse me, good sir," she said, catching the performer's attention. "My friend here would love to borrow your guitar for a song."

Gibrael's face flushed with embarrassment as the performer handed over his guitar with a smile. She shot a playful glare at Soul but took the instrument anyway, her fingers brushing against the strings as old memories surfaced.

Taking a deep breath, Gibrael strummed the first few chords of Beautiful Stranger. The melody felt foreign yet familiar in her hands. As she began to sing, her voice was soft at first, fragile with uncertainty, but as the crowd began to listen, it grew stronger, richer. Each note seemed to release a part of her she had long buried, each lyric a confession to the night. For the first time in a long while, she felt something shift within her.

Soul stood there, her eyes wide with awe, unable to take her gaze off Gibrael. She had never heard her sing before, but the sound was intoxicating—melancholic and beautiful, a reflection of everything Gibrael had been keeping locked away.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, but Gibrael didn't care about them. She quickly handed the guitar back and rushed to Soul, wrapping her arms around her tightly.

"I'm shy now," Gibrael mumbled, her face buried against Soul's shoulder.

Soul chuckled softly, hugging her back just as tightly. "You were incredible," she whispered, her voice full of admiration and something deeper, something unspoken.

For a moment, they just stood there, holding onto each other as the music faded into the background, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Gibrael felt like she wasn't quite so alone.