BORN TO BE YOURS [ alan rickman ]

i. TIMELESS

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CHAPTER ONE - TIMELESS
[ DECEMBER 18, 1991 ]

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PACKING was sort of therapeutic for Alan, while most people would detest the idea of packing and put the task off for another time, he found it soothing, something he liked to consider as the start of a new adventure. Alan always tried to be an optimistic type of person, life had many challenges, of course, and what better way to plough through the days looking at the bright side?

Splash!

Turning to look beside him, he watched as his pet turtle, Betty, attempted to get onto a rock. He chuckled quietly and the turtle turned to him and narrowed her little eyes as if to say "What are you laughing about?" which ultimately led to her slipping off the rock and tumbling onto her back.

He quickly dropped the sweater he was folding and helped her up. "Best be careful there Betty," he smiled, tapping her little head with his index finger, he had gotten used to Betty keeping him company and had grown attached to her, he just couldn't bear to leave the tiny animal behind at Stratford-upon-Avon so he brought her with him to New York. Plus it helped him keep his sanity, or what little left of it.

Still, talking to a turtle was preferable instead of talking to thin air.

Quickly stuffing the last of his clothing as neatly as he could, he puts his luggage away to the side and flopped on his bed. Stuffing his hands behind his head, his flight wasn't until a few more hours, while New York was fun, he missed his mother and siblings dearly, so he was very excited to spend Christmas with them.

His mind wandered for a bit, reminiscing about all the other Christmases he had when he was younger.

But what would it be like to spend Christmas with his soulmate? His mind whirred with blissful imaginations, It would be wonderful, he decided, because why wouldn't it be? This was his soulmate, a person he was meant to be with for the rest of his life, someone who he would love and would love him back.

He pulled his right arm from under his head, tracing the small tattoo on his arm, these were meant to clue people into what their soulmates were like. His was simple—a pad of paper and pencil.

Perhaps his soulmate loved drawing. It made him smile, he could picture his soulmate curled up by the windows, pouring over a sketch. He wondered what her tattoo looked like, it would be something related to acting that was for sure.

His soulmate.

He had searched endlessly for her, often spending his free time roaming, just to see if he could bump into her, he knew he was getting a little too impatient, but he wanted to find her now.

One would think, after nearly two decades since he turned eighteen, that he would have been less hopeful, he knew his soulmate was out there, he could feel it. But Alan has lived thirty-five years without his soulmate, and frankly, he's tired, though, of course, his body doesn't reflect that. He's the same now as he had been in 1974, on his eighteenth birthday. Still, he wants her now.

He hadn't been alive for long, two and a half decades wasn't really too bad compared to others who he knew searched for fifty years or more before they found their soulmates, he didn't mind being eighteen, he was cast into good roles because he looked a little older with a beard, and his young body was great for running around on stage or at sets.