The Love Problem by L. Johnson - 2026 Romance Writing Competition 1st Place Winner

The Love Problem by L. Johnson

This is quite literally the most physically painful thing Neal has ever had to go through.

And he just cannot stop his leg from bouncing against the linoleum floor.

It’s just- look, okay, the doctor’s office is scary, even though he’s a big boy at the age of 24. He really doesn’t want to be here. He keeps making eye contact with the people on the posters, and he’s starting to think they want something from him.

He wishes he had his headphones on. But what if the guy (Nurse? Doctor? Receptionist??) comes back and calls his name and he doesn’t hear it because he has his headphones on like an asshole? 

So yeah, he just sits in the stupid, silent waiting room, and really tries not to look at the creepy smiling people posters because even after insurance all he can give them is his soul. 

“Neal,” the person next to him mutters. He doesn’t know them. They’re a stranger- who said their name at some point, and- wait, what was their name? It doesn’t matter, they’re still talking. He should probably pay attention. “-don’t have to do this, you know?”

“No, I do.” he mutters back, trying (and failing) to match their volume. He does have to, he really, really, really does. “It isn't fair. On you. Or me. Look, man, I don’t even remember your fucking name.”

“It’s Ali.” the stran- Ali- huffs. They seem put out. Well, that’s what happens when your soulmate forgets your name.

Yeah, soulmates. That whole “perfect-person-other-half-assured-to-love-you-forever” shit. Ali is Neal’s soulmate. Neal is Ali’s soulmate. There’s just one big bright red, glaring, terrible issue with the whole thing, and it’s that Neal couldn’t give a single flying fuck about being someone’s soulmate. He’d always kinda known he’d break someone’s heart eventually, but this isn’t the ego boost that most people assume it is. It’s actually so painfully awkward Neal really wants to just pitch himself out of the window, but he’s already here, so he’s gotta stick around.

Paying for the appointment is really the least he can damn well do, because it really isn’t at all Ali’s fault that they’ve got lumped in with Neal here.

In his own defence, he’d really tried to stay away from meeting new people. The anxiety that they might be someone fated to be in love with him actually made him grind his teeth down in his sleep. He orders his groceries online, works remotely, has one (1) cat, and keeps just a single friend from childhood that he knows isn’t his soulmate. He isn’t lonely. Who said that?

One day, on a rare trip outside, he’d looked up into the eyes of the barista and a ZING! Had echoed through his head, followed incredibly swiftly by his heart dropping right through his stomach and through the floor. 

And then started the so-called “Love Problem.” For two days, he’s been about half a second away from tearing his hair out- one of his hands is still at the back of his head, tangled in and idly tugging at his hair.

Shit, wait, had Ali said something a second ago?

“Sorry.” Neal grunts, tuning back into the office. His leg is still bouncing. Where the hell is the receptionist? He probably shouldn’t rely on someone else getting him out of this. This is a social hell of his own making.

“It’s fine, Neal,” Ali says. They’re talking at a normal volume level, oh god. Do they want literally everyone in this room to hear them? “I just need to say-”

“Stop,” Neal begs. He can feel his own volume rising to match Ali’s. “Oh my god, please stop talking.”

“Neal, let’s ju-”

Before Ali can continue, a shadow is suddenly looming over the two of them. Another challenger enters. Oh, god, it's the receptionist.

“You two,” They say, eyebrows knitted together, clipboard tight in their tanned hands as they stare down at Neal and Ali. Their nametag says Everett in looping, hard to read text. Oh no, not you too Everett! “Need to sort this out elsewhere. There are private rooms down the corridor..”

“No, no,” Neal stammers, heart beating out of his chest. Even with his soulmate found, meeting new people still elicits an inherent stress response of his body physically trying to kill him.  “No, we’re fine. We’re good.”

“No,” Everett says, voice sharp as a tack. A really stupid tack that’s trying to stab someone in the foot. “Go to room four. Come out when you’ve sorted this out.”

Ali gets to their feet and starts down the corridor, and all Neal can do is meekly pick up his jacket and follow, because the only thing more awkward than having an argument in public is just having visibly lost an argument in public and having to have everyone look at you and they know-

Neal blinks the fuzz from his vision. They’re in the room. He does not remember entering the room. Ali is sitting in the loveseat, their jacket over the back of it. His legs are shaking, but it would be easier to stand on an entire bucket of lego barefeet than sit next to them, So. Neal stays standing. 

“I love you,” Ali says, apropos of nothing. 

“Oh, God.” Neal blurts out. This is the worst, this is his actual worst nightmare and he’s never wanted to wake up screaming more. Has he already said ‘Oh God’?  It bears repeating.

“I do,” they sigh, and even in the face of Neal’s total and complete incompetence, they have a horribly gooey look in their eyes. “I love you, we’re soulmates. That’s how it works.”

“It shouldn’t be!” He grabs his own arm, fingers clutching around tanned and freckled skin, nails digging into soft flesh. “We met yesterday. I didn’t remember your name five minutes ago!”

“And I haven't been able to stop thinking about you!” Ali pleads, more than a note of desperation in their voice. It’s a whole symphony of emotion that Neal cannot hear. “Isn’t that the promise of soulmates? Love at first sight? Do you not feel that, Neal?”

“I feel sick,” Neal says. It’s true. It’s been years since he’s been outside this long. “Please. I don’t feel what you feel. At all.”

“Are you sure? Love… can feel different, for different people.” Ali tries again, pitching forward, hands reaching out desperately for something Neal does not have. 

He tries not to look Ali in the eyes- their jacket is nice, isn’t it? With the uh. The tassels? Is that what they’re called? Ali keeps talking, but the words float above Neal’s head and slide out underneath the door. 

“- and I love you.” They hear, eventually, tuning back in to Ali. Neal’s hands shake as he shoves them in his pockets. Ali barrels forwards. “Romantically, however you want to say it, but I… can live with platonic love. The bond means something! You have to feel something!

Neal is silent.

“Just not for me,” Ali concludes eventually, their hands twisting in their lap. It looks uncomfortable. He says nothing. “How does that even work? How do you get a soulmate? You’re meant to love me too.”

“Maybe you’re wrong. I don’t feel anything.”

Ali’s face morphs into something different, eyebrows furrowed, mouth turned downwards and- shit, are they mad?

“Maybe I didn’t say it the right way,” comes through gritted teeth.Their hands twist again, over and over again. “Please Neal. I love you so much. I’ve dated around before, but I’ve never felt so… intensely, about someone.”

“Jesus Christ.” Neal mutters, gripping his arm tighter, as if that’ll make everything go away. If he isn’t careful, he’s gonna draw blood.

“Can’t we be friends?” Ali asks. It’s a reasonable question. The thought twists in Neal’s chest. “We can just… go back to one of our apartments. Talk. get to know each other, if that’s the issue. Getting the literal one and only soulmate bond either of us will ever get severed day one is a bit hasty. We love each other.”

“No, we don’t.”

Ali blinks up at them, eyelashes fluttering. It makes Neal’s stomach turn. Why are they not getting it? What is he saying wrong, how can he be any clearer?

“Because if we try to be friends then they’ll just be this- this-” Neal finally says, and even then he feels like he can’t fully articulate how wrong this all feels, how monumentally terrifying. He feels like he’s choking on his own heart with every word, and getting through saying this without throwing up will be a miracle. “This shadow of you being in love with me! And it won’t stop because we’re ex-soulmates! I don't know! I just know that maybe you could be really cool, and we could never be friends because you’re in love with me! And I just- I can’t! Ever! Do that!”

“Neal-”

“Oh my god!” Neal half-shouts, to himself, hands tugging at his hair. Ali is actually, really, totally in fucking love with him! That’s crazy! What the fuck!

“Neal!” Ali shouts again. Neal falters, dropping his hands to look at Ali. He’d never looked properly at their face, not really. It’s round, the pale gold of their glasses a pretty contrast to the brown of their skin and eyes- which… are suspiciously shiny. 

“What?” he whispers. He’s still feeling sick with anxiety, but seeing Ali even more visibly upset has thrown him somewhat. He really wants to go home, to get away from this stranger that insists on being in love with him. He really doesn’t want this.

“I don’t deserve this. I-” Ali stumbles over their words, and Neal- notices that their hands are shaking. Is this love? Really? They tilt forward again, grabbing at Neal’s red jacket. “Neal, I can’t- I can’t be alone. I can’t be without you. Please, Neal.”

The world spins under him, the heat from an unfamiliar pair of hands burning, burning, burning! And he tries to pull away, but Ali comes with him, barely managing to keep themself upright with the shift in weight. They end up leaning half against Neal, one fist closed around his jacket. They pull him forward, and he has to consciously stop their foreheads hitting together.

“I love you, Neal!” they try again, eyes frenzied. Neal, in a panic, jerks away, and in their desperation they pull again. 

After a moment of dizziness, he finds himself feeling unfamiliarly exposed, arms cold, and Ali is holding his jacket. He takes another step back, and despite the large room he feels pressed in from all sides, pressure building up in his chest and up through his throat. Ali drops the jacket, and quick as a whip, grabs his hands. 

“Neal,” they say, and it’s like a moment from a story book, with their hands perfectly joined in the middle, a slight breeze ruffling Neal’s hair. It’s perfectly romantic. It’s horrible. “God, I love you. I can’t stop thinking about you, about your hair, your eyes, your voice-!”

Neal pulls his hands away, knocking Ali off balance. They reach out for him again, hands grasping for a romance that exists only for them- yet it is a romance, nonetheless. Neal twists out of their way. The jacket is a casualty of love, and his hands wrap around the doorhandle, nails scraping against the metal as they shake.

Everyone in reception looks up at him, red faced and out of breath, hands shaking desperately. He stumbles, a half-choked cry working its way out his mouth. Everett, the nurse from earlier, stands at his appearance. The door opens again behind him, the now familiar footsteps haunting him, echoes of a romance that he wishes never manifested.

Everett leads them both through to another room. He tries not to look at Ali and their gooey, crying eyes. They will only lead to ruin.

It’s time to solve the love problem.