It started with the bear.
Daniel was digging through an old box in his closet, looking for a board game when Lena, sprawled on the floor in his hoodie, pulled out a small, floppy brown bear with one eye missing and a fraying red bow.
"Oh my god," she laughed, holding it up. "You kept this?"
Daniel blinked. "You know Mister Bean?"
She nodded slowly. "That's literally what I named mine too."
"You had one?"
"Still do. Somewhere in my mom's attic. Mine's missing the other eye."
They stared at each other.
"What if they're long-lost siblings?" she whispered, turning the bear over in her hands like it was sacred. "Separated by fate. Reunited by… us."
Daniel grinned. "Destined lovers, like us. Tragic and squishy."
He sat beside her, knees brushing. "It's probably a popular bear."
"Maybe. But the same name? The same weird bow? Missing opposite eyes? Come on. That's some universe-level weirdness."
She said it lightly, but it clung to her ribs.
Later that night, they were walking back from a food run when Lena stumbled over an uneven curb.
"Ow," she hissed, catching herself.
"You good?"
"Yeah. Just scraped my ankle."
Daniel crouched beside her, checking. "Left leg?"
"Yeah."
He looked up. "Want to see something freaky?"
She nodded. He rolled up his jeans and pointed just above his ankle.
A pale, faded scar.
Same shape. Same spot.
"Bike accident," he said.
Lena's mouth opened.
"Shut. Up."
"No, seriously. I was nine. Racing down a hill. Ate concrete. Cried like a baby."
"I was ten. Same hill situation. Different town, but still."
They stood there in the soft glow of the streetlamp, staring at each other like they were seeing the ghost of someone they hadn't met yet.
That night, back in bed, Lena couldn't sleep.
She watched the rise and fall of his chest beside her, the way he muttered nonsense in his sleep. Her hand found his, not quite on purpose.
"You ever feel like we're connected?" she whispered into the dark. "Like… we've been brushing past each other for years?"
Daniel didn't answer. But his fingers twitched slightly in hers.
And that was enough.
Lena's Field Notes, Entry #17: Coincidences That Aren't
Mister Bean the bear. One-eyed. Twin energy.
Matching scars. Same leg. Same story. Years apart.
Both failed piano class in 7th grade.
Both allergic to kiwis but eat them anyway.
Both dreamt of volcanoes the same night. Weird.
What are the odds?
Maybe it's not just chemistry.
Maybe it's thread.