[ John suddenly wishes Harold was his "very good friend" as well. Maybe he is a little lonely. Maybe he should talk to a friend. Or meet Harold. He wants to meet Harold very much now that he's thought about it. ]
[ He feels... not great admitting that, for some reason. He barely knows Harold. He knows his name, knows he likes books and ice cream, and that he works with computers and is pretty solitary. But. Harold is his soulmate. That means something. That means a lot. And he doesn't really have ties to anywhere. Might as well, right? ]
[ Fortunately, he lives in a huge city, so it doesn't really threaten his anonymity to tell him. Harold and Nathan are common enough names. (Would it really be so bad if John found him?) But it still feels like a concession when he replies, ]
[ Is it weird that he's following Harold? He supposes Harold has done worse since he knows so much about John. Still, John quickly sends a follow up text. ]
Is it okay if I move there?
[ Just because Harold has done that doesn't mean it's okay for John to do it back. ]
[ That seems like a sufficient explanation, and is really the entire reason they're holding this conversation. Harold thought John was his soulmate so he went to great length to ensure he didn't take the CIA job. And, well, John isn't exactly going to turn his soulmate down even if he's a little weird and maybe a bit stalkerish. ]
[ Why is he thanking him for that? Regardless, that seems like a good enough stopping spot for the time being.
The next day rolls around and John isn't sure when he's going to get his package, but it's probably not at 6:30am, so he finishes his coffee and goes for a run. He's home by 9am and there's no package at his door, so he takes a shower and makes scrambled eggs and toast. Still no package. Finally around noon there's a knock on his door and he practically races for it.
The package he receives is considerably larger than just a phone, and larger still than if it included the books Harold promised as well, so John opens it carefully and finds... a box of pastries. He sets these aside, and pulls out the books, looking over them before setting them aside as well. Finally the phone, which actually has enough battery to be turned on right away. The only thing on the phone is a text from an unknown sender which reveals the name of the pastries. Or at least John supposes that's what it's referring to.
He makes a cup of coffee and tries one of the pastries. They're good, sweet and a little sticky, and leave pastry flakes on his counter. He eats a second, and then a third while he works on his coffee. But after that he's had too many sweets and decides to put the remaining three in a bowl tightly covered in plastic wrap to hopefully keep them a little fresher (he has no tuperware in this apartment). Then he picks up the phone. ]
[ Harold hadn't exactly been waiting anxiously at his phone but he did pick it up immediately when it got a new notification. He's extremely pleased to see John liked them. ]
It there's any assistance I can provide that you would like, please don't hesitate. I'll try to keep my impulses to spoil you to a dull roar unless asked.
[ Harold wants to spoil him? Really? Him? He supposes that doesn't extend as far as answering questions. It feels... strange to know there's someone out there who cares that much about him. Who wants to do things like send him pastries. He's not really sure how to be spoiled, and he has no clue how to respond to that. ]
I'll ask for help if I need it. Thanks. What's your favorite pastry?
[ It's sort of awkward, ignoring Harold's offer to spoil him, but what would do with that? He's used to the Army, used to MREs and shared bunk spaces, used to always being dusty and the shortest showers possible. He stares at the words "spoil you" and they feel like a foreign language. ]
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What do you want to talk about?
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To be honest, I haven't the slightest idea. I really don't socialize much. Perhaps I could send you a book with the phone, and we could discuss that?
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I'll read it. Why don't you socialize much?
[ Maybe eventually he'll find a question Harold is willing to answer. ]
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Why don't you?
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Don't you already know?
[ He thinks Harold does know and is being difficult on purpose. After all, he knows that John doesn't socialize in the first place. ]
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[ Now he's going to put far too much thought into it. As for the latter... ]
I'm neither a mind-reader nor a presumptive psychologist. I'd rather ask.
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I'll answer if you do first.
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[ It feels childish to say he's shy, so he phrases it that way instead. ]
I'm much more comfortable with computers than with people.
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And I answered it back. I didn't think you wanted follow up questions, but you can have one. Do you have a friend named Nathan?
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I suppose you saw that. Yes. He's a very good friend.
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Can I meet you?
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Okay. Where do you live?
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[ Harold reflexively doesn't want to admit anything, but something about the idea that John would relocate for him twists at his feelings. ]
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[ He feels... not great admitting that, for some reason. He barely knows Harold. He knows his name, knows he likes books and ice cream, and that he works with computers and is pretty solitary. But. Harold is his soulmate. That means something. That means a lot. And he doesn't really have ties to anywhere. Might as well, right? ]
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New York City.
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[ Is it weird that he's following Harold? He supposes Harold has done worse since he knows so much about John. Still, John quickly sends a follow up text. ]
Is it okay if I move there?
[ Just because Harold has done that doesn't mean it's okay for John to do it back. ]
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I don't share anything I don't intend to. You've been remarkably patient with me.
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[ That seems like a sufficient explanation, and is really the entire reason they're holding this conversation. Harold thought John was his soulmate so he went to great length to ensure he didn't take the CIA job. And, well, John isn't exactly going to turn his soulmate down even if he's a little weird and maybe a bit stalkerish. ]
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You'll receive your phone tomorrow, John.
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[ Why is he thanking him for that? Regardless, that seems like a good enough stopping spot for the time being.
The next day rolls around and John isn't sure when he's going to get his package, but it's probably not at 6:30am, so he finishes his coffee and goes for a run. He's home by 9am and there's no package at his door, so he takes a shower and makes scrambled eggs and toast. Still no package. Finally around noon there's a knock on his door and he practically races for it.
The package he receives is considerably larger than just a phone, and larger still than if it included the books Harold promised as well, so John opens it carefully and finds... a box of pastries. He sets these aside, and pulls out the books, looking over them before setting them aside as well. Finally the phone, which actually has enough battery to be turned on right away. The only thing on the phone is a text from an unknown sender which reveals the name of the pastries. Or at least John supposes that's what it's referring to.
He makes a cup of coffee and tries one of the pastries. They're good, sweet and a little sticky, and leave pastry flakes on his counter. He eats a second, and then a third while he works on his coffee. But after that he's had too many sweets and decides to put the remaining three in a bowl tightly covered in plastic wrap to hopefully keep them a little fresher (he has no tuperware in this apartment). Then he picks up the phone. ]
Thanks, they were good. Do you eat them often?
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[ Harold hadn't exactly been waiting anxiously at his phone but he did pick it up immediately when it got a new notification. He's extremely pleased to see John liked them. ]
It there's any assistance I can provide that you would like, please don't hesitate. I'll try to keep my impulses to spoil you to a dull roar unless asked.
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I'll ask for help if I need it. Thanks. What's your favorite pastry?
[ It's sort of awkward, ignoring Harold's offer to spoil him, but what would do with that? He's used to the Army, used to MREs and shared bunk spaces, used to always being dusty and the shortest showers possible. He stares at the words "spoil you" and they feel like a foreign language. ]
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