Amethyst Desire

Dove's POV

Five years now, and this crazy dream's been stuck on repeat, playing every night like a wonky movie reel. It's this banquet, you see, all fancy and decked out like a million bucks. Everyone I love is there, looking like they stepped out of a dream themselves – all in white, clinking glasses of wine and laughing their heads off. But here's the kicker: there's not a single worry in sight, not a cloud in their happy little sky. Yet, a coldness creeps in, all because I'm the only one missing.

It's a mind-bender, this dream. Part of me feels all warm and fuzzy seeing everyone having a blast. The other part? This deep, unexplainable sadness takes over. Sometimes, tears blur my vision, and a sigh escapes my lips. Is it me? Are they all secretly miserable, and somehow, when I'm gone, their problems vanish?

Lost in this thought spiral, I zoned out completely, the sounds of Raining Blaze on TV just a distant hum. Then, a jolt. A face on the screen snagged my attention – this guy everyone worships, a guy who looks like a shattered piece of the moon, beautiful but broken. He's got everything, right? Fame, fortune, the whole dream life package. But his eyes... they're empty. Like a man drowning in riches yet starving for something real. A pang of loss hit me, a feeling sharp enough to take my breath away.

Just then, Haze, my best friend, walked in. Her eyes held a question, a worry that creased her brow. "Dove? You good?" Her hand landed on my shoulder, a gentle weight that grounded me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile for her.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just being haunted by memories," I confessed, the lie catching in my throat like a bad cough. Haze, my partner-in-crime since sandbox days, could see through me faster than a window on a windy day. We practically grew up with the same heartbeat, running wild in the neighborhood for years. No matter how good I thought I was at lying, Haze's intuition was like a superpower.

"Nostalgia trip?" she pressed, her dark eyes searching mine. We had that kind of connection, you know? The kind that comes from whispered secrets under the covers and celebrating each other's triumphs like they were your own. It was a bond built on shared popsicles and scraped knees, a silent language only we understood.

"Let's just say the past is tugging at my heartstrings," I mumbled. She gave a small nod, the worry lines on her forehead softening a touch. Deep down, I knew I couldn't keep this facade up for long. We'd shared everything, from embarrassing childhood nicknames to the dreams that made our hearts race. Haze was the sister I never had, the one person I knew I could always count on.

"It was seeing Vinter on TV," I admitted, tracing the faded initials etched on my skin, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. "Five years ago. And I can still remember the electricity that zapped through me, like suddenly everything clicked into place. Like he was the missing puzzle piece, the one I was destined to spend forever with."

There was more to it, though. A nagging doubt, cold and unwelcome, wormed its way into my heart. Seeing Vinter on TV sparked this intense connection, sure, but a tiny voice whispered that he wouldn't accept someone like me. Even if he did, for some crazy reason, wouldn't we just be a disaster waiting to happen? Unease prickled at my skin like a bad sweater. The weight of the curse, this whole soulmate thing, slammed into me. Stuck with someone forever, no matter what? It was suffocating.

This world, is messed up. Cursed like me – a measly 3% of the population – we carry the burden of a predetermined soulmate. Like a cruel joke, the initials of the person we're supposed to spend our whole lives with are etched on our ankles. Doesn't matter what our hearts say, doesn't matter if butterflies take flight or shrivel up and die – we're bound to them until the Grim Reaper waltzes in. V.H. – Vinter Harris. My parents, bless their worried socks, almost fell apart when they saw the mark. But me? When I first saw him on TV all those years ago, it felt...right. Like finally fitting into a puzzle I didn't even know I belonged to. I cried, a happy, relieved mess. They say it's normal to feel this overwhelming peace when you meet your soulmate. But for me, it was deeper. It was a terrifying certainty.

It wasn't just the way he owned the stage, it was the raw energy that crackled off him. Every electrifying performance left me speechless. The music, the lyrics – they wove a magic spell around me. His voice, oh his voice – deep, soulful, with a hint of melancholy that lingered long after the last note faded. It wasn't just music, it seeped into my dreams, a beautiful haunting.

Then there was his passion. He poured his heart and soul into his craft, every song a testament to his dedication. He wasn't just a singer, he was a legend in the making, at least in my eyes.

Sure, I was one of his millions of fans, silently cheering him on from the sidelines. But there was this secret truth, a connection so profound it felt destined – Vinter Harris, my favorite artist, the one whose music spoke to my very core, was also my soulmate.

Vinter Harris. The name itself sent shivers down your spine if you were a fan of pop music. His band, Raining Blaze, wasn't just another boy band – they were a full-fledged rock experience. Vinter was the heart and soul, the guy who poured his entire being into every song. He wrote the music that pulsed with raw emotion, lyrics that painted vivid pictures, and then delivered them with a voice that could range from a soulful croon to a spine-tingling scream. Dylan, his long-haired counterpart, wasn't just the rhythm guitarist – his fingers danced on the fretboard, weaving intricate melodies that intertwined with Vinter's vocals. And then there was Tristan, the resident rhyme slayer. His verses weren't just rap; they were poetry set to a beat, spitting fire that left the crowd breathless. The whole crew was under the watchful eye of Charles Perez, the man with the Midas touch in the music industry. CEO and founder of Hope Records, Charles was their music mogul, the guy who turned raw talent into chart-topping sensations.

The final power chord ripped through the speakers, and the roar of the crowd slowly faded. I finally tore my gaze away from the TV, the last echoes of Raining Blaze's performance clinging to the air. Vinter, the man who usually commanded the stage with his electrifying presence, now looked like a ghost of his rockstar persona. His eyes, usually sparkling with an infectious energy, were dull and distant, like someone had dimmed the flame that burned so brightly within him. It was a stark contrast to the carefully constructed image he cultivated in interviews – the carefree, happy-go-lucky rockstar living the dream. Here I was, someone who had always admired him from afar, a tinge of jealousy simmering beneath the surface. He had everything – fame, fortune, an amazing band – everything I ever thought I wanted. But seeing him like this, this hollow shell of a man, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Love, they say, is a complicated thing. It makes you do crazy things, like wanting to reach out and offer everything you have to someone who seems to be falling apart, even if they might push you away.

The TV flickered off with a final hiss as I mumbled, "Alright, that's enough." I didn't have a clue what the future held, but a knot of determination sat tight in my gut. Whatever came next, I was ready to face it, pain or not.

"Enough of what?" Haze's voice cut through the silence, laced with confusion.

"Enough of moping," I said, catching a glimpse of worry flicker across her face. "It's time I paid my soulmate a visit."

Haze's brow furrowed. "Hold up. I thought you swore you'd never see him? You said being together wouldn't work, that your personalities clash like cymbals."

"Yeah, well," I sighed, "soulmates are a funny thing. They know you better than anyone, even if you've never met them. And let's just say, his vibe screams 'trouble' louder than a death metal concert."

An awkward silence stretched between us. Haze seemed glued to the spot, her gaze searching mine. Did she see the storm brewing inside me, the fear of this unknown future tied to a soulmate? Maybe. Whatever the case, words seemed to fail her at that moment. But a squeeze of my hand and a small, resolute nod spoke volumes. She was in this with me, no matter what came crashing down.

"Dove, wait, there's something-"

I cut her off with a theatrical gasp, eyes widening. "Whoa, is that the time? Speaking of the future, I completely forgot about Charles' offer from Hope Records! Gotta reply to that before it disappears into the abyss of unread emails, you know?"

Haze snorted, rolling her eyes with a playful jab. "Changing the subject won't solve a thing, Dove," she said. "Hold on a sec – an offer from Charles?! When did this magic trick happen? You never mentioned it!"

"Literally just did," I protested with a helpless shrug. Haze just shook her head, a playful annoyance simmering in her eyes. I get it, I totally do. Diving headfirst into things without a breath is practically my middle name.

"You're impossible," she sighed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. I winked back, a smug grin plastered on my face.

"Yep, that's me," I admitted, reveling in the playful banter for a moment. "Alright, alright, about this offer. Charles from Hope Records, the music industry legend himself, wants me to – " I paused, letting the anticipation build before leaning in conspiratorially, "work with them!"

"He wants me to, like, write songs for Raining Blaze!" I blurted out, watching Haze's jaw hit the floor. Honestly, same. Raining Blaze already had a songwriter, so why bring another one into the mix? But still, a jolt of excitement buzzed through me. Working with one of the biggest bands in the industry? This could be my ticket to getting my name out there, proving what I could really do.

"But what about Vinter?" Haze asked, her brow furrowing with concern. "Isn't he, you know, their whole songwriting thing?"

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, a mischievous glint in my eye. "That's the juicy part, right? Charles wouldn't offer this if it wasn't… well, interesting. So yeah, gotta hear him out before I give any kind of answer."

Haze threw her hands up in mock defeat. "Seriously, Dove? You're considering taking this job just to satisfy your nosy streak?"

"Hey," I said, holding up my hands defensively with a sheepish grin, "curiosity is a powerful force. Besides, it's not every day you get an offer like this, right?"

Haze sighed, shaking her head. "Dove, you're a walking enigma. I feel like I've known you forever, yet you still manage to surprise me at every turn." A hint of amusement danced in her eyes, though.

"Isn't it just thrilling?" I replied, a sly grin tugging at my lips. She gave me a playful swat on the arm, her disapproval clearly feigned.

"Thrilling, chaotic, take your pick," she mumbled, a smile tugging at the corner of her own mouth. "What am I supposed to do with you?" It was a question she often asked, a familiar refrain in our friendship.

"Live a little, Haze?" I suggested with a wink. "Besides, isn't that why you have me around? To keep things interesting?" Her voice softened when she spoke again.

"Interesting is one way to put it," she said, a hint of pleading in her tone. "But Dove, you know I worry. You have a talent for diving headfirst without thinking. This whole thing with Raining Blaze… it just feels…off."

"Yeah, I hear you," I admitted, stretching and hopping off the bed. "But hey, that's why it's interesting, right? Besides, a girl can't say no to a hot chocolate and a chance to work with one of the biggest bands out there, can she?"

The house was silent – Mom on a shopping spree, sister busting moves at hip-hop class, and Dad at the office. Solitude wasn't always my jam, which is why I snagged Haze to hang out. But now, a new plan was brewing.

"Speaking of hot chocolate," I announced, a mischievous glint in my eyes, "Maybe I should hit up that cozy café down the street. Perfect spot to answer Charles' email and maybe snag some inspiration for my next masterpiece." My neighborhood was calling my name, buzzing with life waiting to be explored. Fresh air, new sights, and the rhythmic symphony of the city – that's what I needed to get those creative juices flowing. Time to lace up my shoes and hit the pavement, ready to soak it all in and write something phenomenal.

"I see," she replied with a nod, her brow furrowed in thought.

A flicker of hope sparked in my eyes. "Wanna come with me? We could grab that hot chocolate and brainstorm some ideas." Spending time with Haze, even in comfortable silence, was always a win.

But she gave a defeated sigh, shaking her head. "Sorry, Dove. I'm swamped with a fashion project for Isla Allen – you know, the fashion goddess herself? Gotta get back and slay this design."

Haze, my 22-year-old partner-in-crime, is a fashionista in her own right. Working under Isla Allen is no small feat, and Haze is crushing it. Her laugh is infectious, her spirit sunshine-bright, and despite being shorter than me, she carries herself with the confidence of a runway model. No wonder she keeps Isla Allen on speed dial.

At 23, I was already a name whispered with a hint of awe in music circles. A freelance lyricist, sure, but some were calling me a prodigy, a weaver of words that could paint a thousand pictures with a single verse. They said my lyrics had a magic touch, a way of reaching into your soul and stirring up a kaleidoscope of emotions – joy, sorrow, everything in between. Made you wanna grab a stranger and slow dance under a disco ball, or curl up with a mug of hot cocoa and cry your eyes out. Honestly, it all felt a bit mystical to me, but I wasn't complaining. A compliment's a compliment, right?

Looks-wise, let's just say I wasn't exactly invisible. My eyes, the color of melted chocolate with flecks of gold that seemed to dance in the light, had a habit of catching people off guard. Framed by a cascade of dark hair that tumbled down my back in soft waves, they were probably my most striking feature. Sure, some blogs gushed about my "heart-shaped face" and "porcelain skin," but that all felt a bit... superficial.

"Alright," I said with a grin, the excitement for what's next practically buzzing in the air. "I'll let you know what Charles says after I take the job." Haze nodded, her own unease mirroring mine.

Haze lingered by the doorway, the cheerful bounce usually present in her step replaced by a hesitant shuffle. Her brow furrowed in concern, her gaze flitting across my face as if searching for a hidden message in my eyes. A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she reached out. Her hand, cool and calming, enveloped mine in a gentle squeeze.

"Dove," she started, her voice barely a whisper, "promise me you'll be... gentle with him. Even if he throws his usual tantrums."

A playful smirk tugged at my lips, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Vinter hadn't even entered the equation yet, and here was Haze, his fiercest defender. Perhaps it was the way his dark, brooding eyes seemed to hold a universe of unspoken pain in their depths, a pain that resonated with a secret chord deep within her. It stung, a tiny pinprick of jealousy bubbling up in my chest. Vinter, the enigmatic rockstar, effortlessly garnered affection, while I, with my sharp wit and barbed tongue, often had to claw my way to people's hearts.

"Relax," I said, my voice hardening a touch. "I'll handle him. I know what I'm doing." Vinter might not be used to dealing with folks like me, the kind who can spin you a story and see three moves ahead. But hey, pampering's not my style anyway. The truth is, Vinter... I care about him a lot. Deeper than I should, probably. And someone needs to pull him out of this mess. Looks like that job falls to yours truly.

Haze gave a small smile as she slipped out, leaving me alone to wrestle with my thoughts. It was hard not to picture how things would go when Vinter and I finally met. Vinter Harris, my soulmate. The one I'd been waiting for, forever.