The train ride to the cemetery wasn’t long but Elijah have felt like the time have slowed down from the cramp space he had endured during his commute. Fortunately, he had a grab handle to hold onto, his grip tightens each time his balance was off from the bumpy ride, making sure that the bouquet wasn’t completely squashed from the other passengers near him. Unfortunately, he can’t say the same with Iris who somehow managed to stand in between larger men.

Despite it all, they exited the train and entered the station with lesser problems than before. The summer heat had become intense as it is three in the afternoon and the bustling area, they had to maneuver toward their destination, was heavily crowded. Traffic wasn’t an issue, however, Elijah and Iris had to wear face mask to lessen the impact from the smoke coming out from the exhaust pipe of vehicles passing by.

 Now they were at the cemetery. Finally, Elijah thought, pulling out his face mask from his break and sighs. He inhaled the clean air and breathes out seconds later, the place might have been littered with the dead but the quaint and undisturbed atmosphere puts an ease to their chaotic commute.

“Looks fancy,” Iris comments and looks around.

“Well, it is a private cemetery after all,” Elijah stated the obvious, watching Iris shrug as a response.

“Still, I can’t help but be amazed at the marbled and shiny tombstones, green and neatly cut grass and the ground spotless from any sort of trash,” Iris replies back, awed at the marbled statue of a woman near a tombstone. She checks her surroundings before stepping closer to the statue, a finger hovering close before placing it on one of the carved folds of the statue’s dress.

Her finger swipes down and shows it off to Elijah. “Look, clean. Not a hint of dust or dirt on that freaking statue, it’s like the workers here clean everything.”

“They probably do and I bet the pay is good too,” Elijah said.

“Probably not, who knows.” And Iris dismiss his optimism and inserts a hand in the pocket of her jeans. It was the store’s smartphone, which Elijah have given to Iris during his break, and sees her checking something on the screen. Elijah moves towards her, looking at the phone from behind and reads the text from the client.

Iris glances at him then placed the phone back to her pocket. “We have to go,” she said to him and Elijah nodded, noticing the urgency in her tone. “I think it’s this way, on the left with a sympathy flower stand – regardless, the place is bare, anyone standing by a grave is probably them.”

Elijah follows to the direction she’s going. The cemetery was wide, spacious, but empty. There were a few people that either stood or sat down on a chair beside a grave but they all have their own bouquets.

“Do you even remember what they look like?” Elijah asked, concern.  

“They’re old and mourning,” Iris counts the characteristic and raised another finger. “And they’re a man. His grandson sometimes accompanies him to the shop and he always looks angry and constipated.”

The descriptions didn’t help their search but Elijah simply sighed out his panic. He relied on her too much, in work and his home.

They move left then turned right, continuing to follow the road until it reaches to a corner of the cemetery. Elijah didn’t have to check the other areas for a man to fit their description when there’s only one tombstone that has been occupied with people. The older man was sitting on a wheelchair as the younger stood behind him, holding on to the handles of the wheelchair.

Iris seems confident as she reached towards them and ended up engaging a conversation with who Elijah assumed was the grandson. Then the grandson bent down, whispering to his grandfather on the ear. The older man gave Elijah a glance before raising his head to face Iris – and smiled.

The distance between them wasn’t long but neither short. But Elijah knows if he’s being talked about from the glances the grandson had aimed at his direction, showing off their uncertainty. Iris was blunt, pointing a finger at him and the grandfather did what he could, motioning Elijah with his hand.

So, Elijah walks, slow but hastily quicken his pace at the clear sight of impatience from the grandson. He managed to reach the group faster than he would’ve thought.

“He’s my boss,” Iris introduced Elijah to the group, “his name is Elijah and he’s here with the bouquet, Edgardo.”

“Thank you, Iris,” Edgardo said his gratitude with Elijah carefully giving Edgardo the bouquet. However, even with his order already on his grasp, Edgardo still has his eyes on Elijah. “Thank you, Elijah,” Edgardo tells Elijah.

 “No problem,” Elijah responds back.

Edgardo looks back to the tombstone, slowly, and lets out a long and heavy sigh. Silence was to be expected from everyone else, letting those who mourn for the dead to have their moment. Elijah stares at the string he hadn’t noticed before, observing its origin from Edgardo then to the ground below, where the dead rests for eternity. He shivers at the revelation, uncomfortable at the situation he’s facing and backs away until the scene was hidden from Edgardo’s back and wheelchair.

Whenever either one of the fated pair dies, the red string loses its shine. Barely noticeable and dim. Some could say that their string has become transparent, especially when they are far from their destined partner. The situation differs if the dead was cremated and have their ashes scattered at a certain area, the red string do, at least to some capacity, shine but the dead recipient’s end can’t be found.

“Here you go, Makisig,” Edgardo said to his lover, “I’m not really good at flowers so I have Iris help me with choosing the flowers for the bouquet. She’s a kind and spunky girl, I’m sure you’ll love her.”

Elijah gulps and stared at Iris from the corner of his eye, noticing the sniffles she hides with a handkerchief. The grandson, however, stayed solemn with his hands resting on the handles of the wheelchair.

“Michael is always a good boy and has been with me since you died, dear,” Edgardo added and took a sharp inhale. Michael immediately moves out of his post and knelt down to face his grandfather, murmuring words they can only hear and erased his blank expression with a concerned look. Elijah sees Edgardo cupping his grandson’s cheek as a response and used his thumb to caress Michael.

“He wouldn’t leave my side, not even when I tried to go the bathroom,” the grandfather continues, his voice shaky and each word have been spoken slower than before. Michael’s eyes darted around his grandfather’s face, glistening with the tears he has yet to shed. “My poor boy – he was supposed to move to another city after getting promoted from his job but he ended up declining the offer because of me.”

“I don’t even want to move anyways,” Michael explained, “Pops thought it’d be a good idea to spread my wings and fly but I don’t want to. It doesn’t mean I’m staying at my parents’ nest either, I just crave independence that’s all. I also want to have a chance to visit you guys as much as I can… and now, Pops-”

The grandson gritted his teeth and wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“You haven’t disappointed your grandfather with your choice, Michael,” Edgardo reassures his grandson, “he’s simply giving you a choice to live your life – tying you down here was his greatest fear but regardless of your decision, he loves you no matter what.”

“Really?” Michael sounded desperate from his question and reciprocated Edgardo’s touch with his hand placed over his grandfather’s.

“His love never dims nor hides behind a motive. It’s pure, always have been, and even as he finally rests on the ground. I can still feel it. The string never lies,” Edgardo answers and changes the topic with another, “Now, let’s make sure he knows we love him too, Michael. Also, can you place the bouquet the on his grave? I cannot bend my body.”

Edgardo hands his grandson the bouquet and Michael accepted it with a respond, “Of course, grandpa.” The younger man did what he was told.

“I’m sorry for the commute you two had to go through to get here,” Edgardo tells Elijah and Iris without ever looking from behind.

“It’s nothing, Edgardo,” Iris reassures the grandfather and went forward to face him. She offers a smile but it was clear that panic had disrupted the gesture. Elijah heard a zipper being opened and he hastily followed where Iris had stood.

“It’s all part of our job, sir! Commute is just something both of us had to get used to and we always make sure to have an allowance for the travels,” Elijah explained, hoping it was enough to refrain Edgardo from pulling out paper bills from his wallet. Iris voiced out her agreement afterwards.

“You have already paid for the bouquet,” Iris points out, “the best thing you could do for the commute is to come to the shop whenever you need another bouquet or an arrangement for an event. Nothing else.”

“Alright,” Edgardo agreed, “I’m sure I’ll be here often for now – might as well give my darling each new flowers for every visit. It might liven the dull gray marble of his tombstone.”

“Thank you, Edgardo.” It was Elijah’s turn to say his gratitude.

-

If either of the fated pair has died. Does the string hold any sort of value afterwards? What about a soulmate that died before the other meets them? Would the other recipient continue to cling on the hope of a romantic first encounter or just gives up at the thought of meeting their destined partner?

Such thoughts riddles Elijah’s mind. Death is an inevitable process everyone has to go through and they all have their own pace in facing the afterlife. He also read a study concerning fated pairs not meeting because of a recipient’s death but the reception for the publicized work were mostly negative, obviously. To summarize it; the chance of that to happen was surprisingly low but never zero.

However, any sort of discussion was mostly restrained in the internet. Usually in small forums for those who mourn at their partner’s death. Those people cried for the person they have never met before and never will but they cope at the information shared by friends and family.

Elijah read the forums years ago, satiating his curiosity at the reaction and behavior committed from the remaining recipients and it was as he expected. There was a spectrum, from the mild to downright disturbing.

“You okay, boss?” Iris asked him after she taps him on the shoulder.

“Huh?” Elijah immediately leaves his thoughts, pushing them into the dark corner of mind and realizes they were nearing the end of their commute. “I’m fine, just in pain from getting hit on the side with someone’s elbow.”

“Can’t help that some schools are on break for summer vacation and the kids are now leaving to go home from their boarding houses and dorms,” Iris mutters, looking less pleased at the fact. “While I have to take some minor subjects for the summer. It’s sucks!”

His flower shop stood proud on front of him and Elijah can’t help but relaxed at the sight of his business.

“Eli?” However, the familiar voice coming from behind stiffen his muscles once more, losing the comfort and reassurance he had for a break. Iris looks at him then to the person whose footsteps got increasingly louder and faster.

“Boss?” Iris calls out to him.

“You should head first, Iris, and help Oak with whatever he’s struggling at the moment,” Elijah ordered and Iris nodded at him before running back to his shop.

As for Elijah? He listens to her calling him with his nickname before facing her.

And him, too.