Chapter Text
Technically it could happen at any time. Some people found out at birth, others once puberty hit and others still who only had it manifest well into adulthood or, sometimes – it would never happen.
His parents had insisted that it would happen soon for him since he had hit thirteen. At nineteen it still hadn’t. Late bloomer, not ready for it – that was what the official channels would say should he bother to look but he tended to try and not think about it as much as possible.
It was stupid really, he thought. How could something like soulmates exist in a world like this? In a world where science prevailed, where they had sent people into space and cured countless diseases. How could two people be so intrinsically linked when they were strangers? How could free will be real when most of their society revolved around soulmates and the pushy, romanticised notion that once you started seeing the marks that you should drop your whole life for someone else that you had never laid eyes on in your whole life? And why the fuck was it still a mystery as to why and how it was possible?
Smith thought the whole thing was just a mess. If you were part of the crowd who waited and dropped everything to find your ‘one’ then you were criticised for not being comfortable in yourself. If you went against it and tried to rebel – something many a teenager tried – then you were labelled some kind of ‘scene kid’ who was just trying to be cool. Yet, if you were one of the few who made it to adulthood without any sign of it then you were to be pitied. It made him more than glad that it was a social faux pas to speak about it with anyone but those closest to you.
It could have been worse, he supposed. Living in England it was easy to get away with long sleeves in the dull British weather, even in summer it wasn’t unusual for people to walk around with hoodies on that covered most of their skin. He felt sorry for those in hotter climates, who couldn’t really hide beneath layers of fabric and had to have something so private out where anyone could see.
And so, when the first marks appeared Smith ignored them – covered his skin from even his own eyes and tried as much as possible to not think about it.
He wasn’t sure if the feeling of a pen being drawn across his skin was purely psychological or not and he didn’t have anyone he felt he could ask because that would mean admitting what was happening to not just others but himself too.
Smith was scared. More scared that he could ever remember being. It felt like everything came down to the marks appearing on his skin, forcing him to confront things he had spent so much time and energy pushing away for his whole life.
It was around a month before he gave in. Five weeks of averting his own eyes when he changed clothes. Five weeks of avoiding the mirror as he got out of the shower.
*********
It was in the early hours of a Saturday morning. He had just arrived home from a night at the student union with his housemates, getting rip roaring drunk after two awful weeks of essays and deadlines where the four friends had barely had time to sleep, let alone relax at all.
For the most part of the evening Smith had been able to forget about his skin and the patterns that he kept pretending not to see.
Now though, safely back in his room with his door locked, he couldn’t get his inebriated brain to stop flicking his eyes down to where he swore he could feel the slight pressure of a pen nib trailing across his arm, under his sleeves.
With a resigned sigh at himself he pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one movement, throwing the garments to his old leather desk chair as he passed before falling back, topless onto the bed.
He lay for a moment, neck bent at an awkward angle, trying to make sense of the patterns but getting nowhere.
Smith sat up and scooted himself backwards until his back hit the headboard and he pulled his knees up to rest the back of his forearms against, giving himself a good view of the inside of his arms where most of the drawings were.
He furrowed his brow and held his right arm closer to his face.
It was like an intricate tattoo sleeve, thin lines shading in the shadows and lighter colours picking out detail. Exotic birds adorned most of his left arm, they were so detailed and realistic that he had to keep staring for a moment to check they weren’t moving.
The left arm was very different.
Much more basic doodles in blue covered the inside of the arm. Simple stars and swirls interspersed by crude drawings of dicks and bubble written expletives that had Smith snorting in amusement as he traced them with a finger.
It wasn’t until morning that he actually gave any thought as to why both arms were so very different.
**********
Ross sighed heavily at his best friend’s request. “Why do you never carry paper?”
Trott shrugged. “Because I always have you to draw on.”
Ross huffed in annoyance but held his bare arm out for Trott anyway.
“Plus.” Trott said, poising his pen over Ross’ skin. “Its good practice for when I open the shop.”
Ross nodded his reluctant agreement. “No more birds though.” He complained. “I’m sick of the birds.”
Trott smiled down at the back of his own hand as a short message appeared in neat looping handwriting informing him that Katie was on her way back from her lecture. “What do you want instead?” Trott asked, looking back at Ross.
“Something cool.” He answered vaguely, sitting back and snatching up the remote for the TV with his spare hand as he felt Trott start drawing.
Trott flicked his eyes up to Ross before starting to draw, smiling to himself as he saw that Ross was already fully engrossed in the show on the television.
Long minutes passed in silence as Trott worked, his pen gliding over the other man’s skin.
Katie arrived as Trott was finishing up the drawing, slamming the front door behind her and dropping her backpack to the floor before going and sitting next to Trott.
“Really?” She asked, looking between the two men for a moment.
“He said to draw something cool, which I interpreted as something he likes.” Trott answered.
Ross tore his gaze away from the screen to look down at his arm, blinking once before raising an eyebrow at Trott.
“What?” Trott asked. “You like dick!”
Ross rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away. “I am your friend, and you are a complete cock so I suppose that works.”
Trott held a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
Ross snatched the pen out of Trott’s hand and took Katie’s hand in his. Katie didn’t resist as Ross pulled her arm closer and wrote something on the inside of her palm.
Trott opened his own hand, watching the words appear as Ross drew a small, spiky potted plant with the words ‘go fuck yourself with a cactus’ underneath.
Katie snorted a laugh. “I am not walking around with this on my hand.”
“Ross?” Trott interrupted, his voice not jovial like it had been.
“If you wash it off Katie, I will just draw something worse.” Ross threatened, ignoring his other friend.
“Ross?” Trott said again, his hand wrapping around Ross’ wrist and pulling his arm closer.
“You’ll have to catch me first.” Katie said, pulling her hand away and taking a step back with a grin on her face.
Trott yanked on Ross’ arm to get his attention. “Ross, mate.” He said, poking at his arm with his other hand. “I didn’t write this.”
Ross’ eyes left Katie and snapped to his own arm where Trott was staring at a small line of text under the drawing, his heart speeding up and his mouth going dry at the implications.
**********
A wave of nausea swept over Smith as he contemplated what exactly to do about the new addition to his skin. He eyed the door to his room, his housemates were his best friends and he should trust them with this.
Opening his door, he was assaulted by a very excitable ball of fur that rubbed itself against his legs making little grunting noises. Smith crouched, hand out stretched to stoke the dog. “Alright, alright. Calm the fuck down.” He chided as he rubbed the small animal behind the ears. “Where’s your dad?” He asked, using one hand to push himself back to his feet.
Caff’s door was open when Smith approached and the man in question was typing furiously, his head turned slightly to read an open book to his left as he went.
Smith cleared his throat as Doug ran passed him and towards his owner. At the clinking of Doug’s claws on the wooden floor, Caff finished his sentence and turned.
“Sorry, mate. Has he been harassing you again?”
Smith shook his head, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder to hide his arm. “Can I talk to you about something?” Smith asked, ignoring as Doug once again started rubbing his small body against his shin.
“Yeah, of course.” Caff answered, gesturing for Smith to enter the room. When Smith didn’t move, he spoke again. “Are you okay?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “You look pale.”
Smith used the hand of his bare arm to rake through his hair, a nervous habit that Caff was all too aware of. Smith tried to smile but it came off as more of a grimace. “So, looks like you might be the last in the house to find your soulmate after all.” He tried to joke.
Caff’s eyes widened. “You’ve started being contacted?”
Smith clenched the fist of his marked arm for a second before opening it and slapping the wall slightly with the flat of his palm. “Looks like mine is a bit of a joker.”
Caff raised his eyebrows and again motioned for Smith to enter his room. “Come sit down before you fall down.” He said. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Smith nodded gently and, on shaky legs walked the few feet needed to sit down on the end of the bed.
Caff tried his best to not look at Smith’s arm until being told it was okay but his eye couldn’t help catching the large, erect penis drawn on Smith’s skin. Caff let out a snort of a laugh.
Smith held the arm close to his body. “What the fuck do I even say to this?” He asked, angling the arm for Caff to get a proper look.
Caff shook his head and sat back in his seat. “Ask if it’s to scale?”
Smith narrowed his eyes at his friend. “This is serious.” He said.
“Size is important!” Caff shot back with mirth in his eyes before noticing that Smith didn’t seem to be enjoying his jibes. “Alright, Sorry.” He said, wiping the smile from his face. “Why did you come to me with this, when I am the only one in this house who hasn’t had any contact with my other half?”
Smith threw his body backwards to lie on the bed, both hands coming up to scrub at his face. “I don’t know.” He admitted, voice muffled by his own hands. “Because Kim and Hannah will have a field day with this after everything I have said about it in the past.”
Caff stood from his chair and sat on the edge of the bed before lying down next to Smith and turning his head to look at the other man. “Do you want to do this without them?”
“Do what?” Smith asked, letting his hands fall away from his face and turning his neck towards Caff.
“I assume that you’re going to write back.” He smaller man answered as Doug leapt onto the bed above their heads and lay down on Caffs pillow.
“I just don’t want to walk around with dicks on my arms for the rest of my life. It’s too hot to wear hoodies all the time.”
Caffs eyebrows rose. “How long has this been happening?” He asked, thinking and trying to remember the last time he saw Smith in anything but long sleeves around the house.
Smith turned his head and stared at the ceiling as he answered. “Just over a month.”
Caff sat bolt upright and turned his body to look down at Smith. “And you haven’t written back? Or told anyone?”
Smith shook his head and avoided his friend’s eye. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
“Ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away, Smith.”
“And don’t I fucking know it.” He admitted with a sigh. “How bad do you think the girls will be?”
Caff thought for a moment before answering. “Give them ten minutes to gloat and make fun then they should be okay.”
It didn’t even take ten minutes for Hannah and Kim to stop, both women concerned by the paleness and general introversion of their usually loud and boisterous friend.
“What should I say?” Smith asked the room at large.
They were all around the small, round kitchen table looking down at Smith’s arm. “Stop drawing dicks on me?” Kim suggested.
“As much as I love a good cock, can you please stop drawing them on my skin?” Hannah suggested with a smirk.
Smith shot them both daggers.
“What?” Kim asked, holding her hands up. “Whoever they are, they obviously can take a joke if they’re drawing dicks all over themselves.”
Caff nodded. “Might be a good way to break the ice.” He offered.
**********
‘As beautiful as the cock drawings are, could you possibly draw them somewhere less visible? Thanks.’
“What the fuck?” Katie asked, shoving Trott aside and squeezing onto the sofa between the two men and taking Ross’ arm.
“Fuck.” The sound was drawn out as Ross studied the words, his brain taking note of the handwriting. It was a messy scrawl unlike his own neater and blockier writing, slanting slightly to the right as if in italics. It looked purposeful and unhesitant, seeming like the pen hadn’t been properly taken off the skin as whoever it was went from word to word, barely visible lines joining the words together where the pressure had been lifted but not taken off completely.
“Write back.” Katie said, nudging Smith in the ribs with her elbow. “Before he thinks you haven’t seen it.”
Ross scrabbled around on the table in front of them for a moment before Trott handed him a pen. “What do I say?” Ross asked, his voice a litter higher than usual.
“Ask his name or something.” Trott prompted.
Ross’ eyes widened and he visibly paled. “What if it’s not a guy?” He asked. “There’s load of people out there who thought they were straight and then their soulmate turned out to be the same as them and they then came out as gay. What if this is the other way around?”
Both of his friends replied to him at the same time. Their words overlapping.
“Only one way to find out.” Trott urged, gesturing to Ross’ arm.
Katie was more reassuring. “I’m sure it’s a guy.” She said. “Look at that writing. That is definitely a man’s writing.”
Still Ross hesitated.
Trott groaned and lurched forwards, snatching the pen back and putting it to Ross’ skin before Ross could really react.
‘Hello?’
It was simple, he supposed.
The response came almost immediately. ‘Hi, my name is Smith.’
Ross groaned in frustration. It just had to be a nickname, and one without any indication towards gender. With a shaking hand, he took the pen back from Trott. ‘I’m Ross’.
**********
Hannah, Caff and Kim backed off as Smith got a response to their message. Keeping in the kitchen but crowding around the kettle to make drinks and give Smith some space without actually leaving him alone.
‘Would it be okay for me to call you or something? Talking like this is weird. If you don’t have time then don’t worry.’
God! Why was this so hard? Smith was usually much better at speaking to people but this whole thing held so much weight that it was having him second guessing everything he said.
A phone number appeared close to his wrist, curving around the appendage slightly. With an ‘I’m free for the rest of the day’ underneath it.
Smith took his phone out of his pocket with sweaty hands, unlocking the screen and typing in the number. Saving it simply under ‘Ross’ before placing the phone onto the table.
Would it be too presumptuous or eager looking for him to call it now? Or should he try and get it over with so he didn’t have to keep panicking about what was happening to him?
Kim placing a steaming mug of tea in front of him broke him from his thoughts. “Thanks.” He mumbled, taking the cup between his hands and pulling it towards him along the table. “He gave me his number.” Smith offered. “That’s good right?”
Hannah came to sit next to him, the chair scooting across the linoleum with a loud scrape as she bumped her shoulder against his. “It’s great.” She confirmed. “Now, go call him.” She said shoving at his arm again.
“You don’t think it’s a bit quick?”
Kim rolled her eyes. “Go call the man before I do it for you.” She said, sickly sweet smile plastered to her face and her arm outstretched towards Smith’s phone.
Smith didn’t need any more encouragement. Snatching the device from the table top and standing. “I’m going to go call from my room.” He said, hinting at his need to do it without an audience.
The three friends watched him shuffle off towards the stairs.
*********
Ross jumped up from the sofa as his phone started ringing in his pocket. An unfamiliar number flashing on the screen as he practically ran from the room.
“Make sure you shut your door so we can’t hear you wanking!” Trott shouted after him, just as he hit the accept call button.
The sound of a thump and a shouted “Chris!” had Ross smiling as he cleared his throat and finally spoke to the person on the other end of the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hi.” The voice was quiet on the other end but something about it resonated in Ross’ chest. His stomach flipping at the sound and his mind rejoicing at the decidedly male tone.
Silence stretched on as Ross climbed the stairs and strode to his room, closing the door behind himself and standing in the middle of the empty space by his bed. Ross wet his lips and took a breath. “So,” He started, trying to keep his voice steady. “- I have no idea what to say.” He admitted, the words almost melding together as he spoke so quickly.
The laughter at the other end of the phone was breathy and made a grin pull across Ross’ face, some of the pressure he had felt lifting.
“Yeah, this whole thing is a bit weird.” The man at the other end admitted.
Ross was trying to place the accent. It was soft and almost unnoticeable to him, a slight tinge of something very familiar to his ears coming through. It was obvious the man was from the south of England but other than that, Ross was at a loss.
“I’m sorry about the dick drawings.” It was the first thing that Ross could think to say as he caught sight of his arm at his side. “My friend likes to draw and I’m kind of used to just letting him do it to shut him up. I didn’t even realise he had drawn this one until he had finished.”
“Its fine, Ross.” The other man said, Ross’ sharp intake of breath at the other man saying his name drowned out by his continued speech. “Honestly, I find it funny but it’s coming up to summer and I don’t fancy surprise cocks appearing whilst I’m in a lecture.”
Ross nodded, even though the other man couldn’t see him. “Nothing like an unexpected dick to ruin your day.” He agreed with a smirk. Smith laughed again and Ross revelled in the sound. “So, you’re in uni?” Ross asked, moving towards his desk chair and pulling it out to take a seat.
“Yeah.” Smith replied. “Swansea.”
**********
Their conversation meandered, they spent some time talking about their respective uni courses before they drifted off to hobbies and musical tastes, followed by a long discussion about games that put both men at ease as they spoke about their favourite and found they had a few in common.
Smith didn’t notice it get dark, only realising the time when Kim knocked on his door and poked her head inside to tell him she had made dinner for him and their other housemates. “Shit.” Smith said down the phone. “We’ve been talking for over six hours.” He commented with a smile. “And my housemate made me dinner, so I need to go.”
“Fuck.” Ross swore. “Sorry, I didn’t realise we had been talking so long. Go eat.” He said, voice laced with guilt.
“You don’t need to apologise.” Smith reassured. “I didn’t realise either. It’s been nice talking to you.”
“Yeah?” Ross questioned from the other end of the phone.
Smith ran a hand though his already tousled hair. “Yeah, it has.”
“So, I could maybe call you another time then?” Ross questioned quietly.
Smith’s lips lifted into a large smile, the skin around his eyes wrinkling slightly from it. “I’d like that.” He said, feeling like some kind of school girl on a first date.
“Okay then.” Ross said. “I’ll call you sometime. And I’ll get Trott to lay off using my arm as a canvas.”
Smith shrugged gently. “I liked the birds, just nothing offensive is all.”
“I can ask for something if you like?” Ross offered. “He likes doing requests.”
Smith thought for a second, teetering on the edge of asking if Trott was any good at portraits but then thinking Ross would probably not want a picture of his own face on his arm. “Surprise me, get him to draw stuff you like.”
“But not dicks?”
“No, not dicks.” Smith laughed.