Chapter Text
Only a small fraction of the world had fated soulmates, and even less got to meet theirs. No one could pinpoint the exact moment in human history when they started to dwindle, but sure enough, the numbers were slowly decreasing with each generation. Some studies hypothesized that it was because more people were marrying and building families with people other than their destined match. But this was countered by the existence of those with soulmarks despite coming from parents who had none, and children born from soulmates who never got theirs. This is the rare story of how two boys from vastly different worlds found love and home within each other.
October 1998
Shane Hollander was seven when he learned what a soulmate was.
He and his mom, Yuna, were cuddled together on the sofa in their living room. They were watching the Montreal Voyageurs battle it out against the New York Admirals in the first game of the season. Shane wore his special hockey themed pajamas to celebrate. It was his favorite time of the year.
They usually made a trip out to the Molson Center to watch the first home game of the season; unfortunately, an emergency meeting had been called at his dad’s work, and they had to cancel their weekend plans. This was fine though, because to Shane, it meant an afternoon spent at the rink. His mite hockey coach wasn’t expecting his attendance, but was all the more delighted to include him in the day’s skating and shooting drills. Shane loved spending time at the rink. He knew he was good at shooting pucks and skating fast, and he wanted to be the best player in the big leagues when he grew up.
If you asked hockey-obsessed little Shane what his favorite NHL team was, he would say the Ottawa Centaurs, but he wouldn’t dare say it out loud in front of his mom. Shane felt like it was only right to root for his hometown team, and when he asked his mom why she didn’t, she patiently explained to him that she had been a fan of the Voyageurs long before the Centaurs were established. Yuna Hollander took team loyalty very seriously, and couldn’t fathom betraying them by switching teams. Her beloved Voyageurs were currently leading the game on their TV by a 2-1 at the end of the second period.
The commercial break began and Shane’s eyes wandered from the screen to his mother’s forearm. He reached out a hand and traced the flowers that blossomed there in fascination, perpetually in bloom with ink lines that were somehow crisp yet soft at the same.
“What flower is this, mama?” He asked, gaze still transfixed on the petals. His mother’s face softened as she saw the tender look in her son’s eyes.
“These are baby’s breath flowers, my love,” she said gently. “It’s mama’s soulmark.”
“What’s a soulmark?” He looked up at her, head tilted and eyes filled with curiosity.
“Well, Shaney, it’s a mark from the universe saying there’s a person out there that Mama is destined to love. A soulmate.”
“And did you meet them? Your soulmate?” Shane was running his fingers over the inked petals again and again, as if the action soothed him.
“Yes I did, honey. Your dad has a matching mark just below his knee,” she smiled at her son. This was the first time Shane ever asked about soulmarks and there was nothing she wished for more in this world than her son getting his own. Except maybe that he also made it to the NHL, but that was something they could work towards. She wasn’t stressing too much about it, not yet. She knew her son was talented, and he would be drafted one day.
“Really? Do you think he’d let me see his soulmark, mama?”
“Of course, baby. You just gotta ask when he comes home later.”
Shane nodded with that silent determination he had even at such a young age, and focused again on the game that had started back up. His dad made it home just as the third period was ending. The Admirals hadn’t scored since the first period and the Voyageurs were leading 5-1.
David walked up to them and pressed matching soft kisses to his wife and son’s foreheads. “I take it the game is going well?” he asked. “Judging by the looks on both of your faces.” Yuna and Shane’s expressions always matched when watching a hockey game. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, gaze darting back and forth across the ice, eyes never leaving the puck.
Shane tore his gaze away from the TV for a moment. “Hi, dad! Montreal is playing a really good game tonight, and the Admirals got four penalties just in the second period!” he said excitedly.
“I guess we can celebrate with ice cream when they win tonight, huh?” David said as he held up a plastic bag containing three pints that he bought on the way home, one each of their favorite flavors. He made a quick detour to the kitchen to store them in the freezer while the last few minutes of the game played out.
That night ended with happiness all around. The Voyageurs won by a landslide and Shane learned all about matching soulmarks and the powers that be. He had a million questions about soulmates (When did you get your soulmarks? Did it hurt when the flowers started appearing? How did you know you were soulmates?) and his parents tried their best to answer all of them with the knowledge they had. They told him stories of how their soulmarks slowly completed themselves over the span of a few weeks. David told him the story of how he met Yuna in college, both of them tired and sleepless from the stress of finals week. Yuna corrected him every now and then and added details that David missed.
“Dad, can I see your flowers? Mom said they were below your knee,” Shane finally asked.
“Of course you can, buddy,” David leaned down to roll the hem of his pants.
Shane leaned over to get a better look. His fingers were sticky with ice cream, but his dad didn’t mind as he traced the baby’s breath flowers that were inked delicately on his shin. He marveled at how perfectly they matched the ones on his mom’s arm. Exactly the same number of blooms, each petal angled identically. The symmetry delighted Shane in a way he couldn’t explain.
“Will I also get one?” he asked, head tilted the way it always was when he was curious about something.
“We can’t say for sure, honey, but we definitely hope so,” Yuna said softly, not wanting to disappoint him.
Shane went to bed that night feeling hopeful that there was a person out there, someone who the universe deemed his.
He dreamt of gliding on the ice that night. Fully dressed in his hockey gear, he passed the puck to someone wearing a red helmet– a flash of blonde curls peeked through, paired with a cheeky smile that brought his attention to a prominent mole on the cheek.
Shane woke up the next morning vaguely remembering a shadow of a smile and the ease with which he played hockey alongside someone else. By the time he was eating breakfast he could remember only the sensation of gliding on the ice; when he arrived at the rink for practice, all thoughts of dreaming about hockey were wiped clear by the real thing.
December 1999
Ilya Rozanov’s parents weren’t soulmates. That was a fact he had been sure of, as long as he could remember. It was simply an intrinsic part of life. The sky was blue, the sun was hot, his parents didn’t love each other.
Ilya was eight when he first caught wind of soulmates through Svetlana. Sweet Svetlana, with her wild curls and even wilder personality. Ilya was more than happy to be caught up in her orbit. It was the dead of winter, and the lake behind her house had finally frozen over enough to skate on. He couldn’t really practice hockey with her since she didn’t play, though not for a lack of trying on Ilya’s part.
Instead, they raced each other several times around the lake all afternoon. Ilya in his hockey skates, Svetlana in her figure skating pair. He won that last race fair and square and turned to watch her reach the finish line. She was always so graceful on the ice, a sharp contrast to his powerful stride.
“You have to teach me how to do that, Sveta,” Ilya said in between pants. He was out of breath from the last sprint.
“How to do what?” Svetlana skids to an elegant hockey stop right in front of him, playfully spraying his legs with ice.
Ilya sends her a playful glare as he dusts the ice from his pants. “How to move like that,” he gestures vaguely over her. “You look like you’re floating on the ice.”
“Oh, you just need to work on your edges, Ilyushka. But I’ll teach you tomorrow, my legs are so numb!”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s get inside before it gets too dark and you freeze your nose off.”
Ilya and Svetlana hurriedly took off their skates and raced inside the house. They huddled together near the heater for warmth. Russian winters were harsh and as it turns out, even children born into them weren’t immune to the cold.
It was Svetlana who broke the topic.
“Do you think you’ll have a soulmate, Ilyushka?”
“I have no idea what that means,” Ilya replied, confused at the word he heard for the first time. Родственная душа. The syllables felt foreign to him despite being in his mother tongue.
“You know, a soulmate. Papa told me it was something like your other half, that the universe had someone out there meant for you to love.”
“This is my first time hearing about it.”
It was no surprise that the topic of soulmates was new to Ilya. There were no secrets between him and Svetlana; she was well aware that Ilya’s home life was not the best. His mother, Irina, try as she might to be a bright presence in his life, was not enough to completely outshine the dark cloud that his father cast upon their family. His older brother, Alexei, was not much help either. He was at the age now where hanging around his kid brother was seen as lame – by Alexei, or just by the crowd he ran around with, Ilya was not sure.
“Maybe Tetya Irina can explain it better to you. I’m not sure I understand it fully myself, to be honest. You should ask her about it,” Svetlana said kindly.
“Maybe I will.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon under thick blankets and endless conversation. Being with Sveta was like that, easy and comfortable. Before they knew it, Ilya was expected back home for dinner. He gathered his things and put on his coat.
“Careful on the way home, Ilyushka. See you tomorrow?”
“I will. See you tomorrow, Sveta.” Ilya punctuated the goodbye with a tight hug. He had always been a tactile child.
When he arrived home, Ilya was greeted with the sight of his mother in the kitchen.
“Ilyushenka, you’re back,” Irina looked up and smiled upon seeing his approach.
“Hi, mama. What are you cooking? Smells good.”
“Solyanka, my darling. Your favorite,” She turned back to the stove to add a can of stewed tomatoes into the simmering pot. “Do you want to help me finish dinner?”
“Yes, mama,” he stepped up to the counter. Irina placed a wooden chopping board, bread knife, and a loaf of rye bread in front of him.
“You can slice the bread and warm it up for me, honey.”
Ilya got to work immediately, eager to help in the kitchen whenever he can. He just finished the second slice of bread when he paused in his task and looked contemplatively at his mom.
“Mama, what’s a soulmate?” He tried his best to recall the words that Svetlana said earlier. Родственная душа. The syllables fell awkwardly from his mouth. A word said for the first time not knowing the weight that they hold. “Do you have one?”
Irina quietly finished adding the last of the ingredients to the soup, and covered the pot. The kitchen was beginning to smell heavenly and Ilya felt himself working up an appetite. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to face her son.
“I don’t have a soulmate, my love. Not everyone is blessed to get one,” she smiled sadly at Ilya. “A soulmate is meant to be the person who understands you the best. They’re meant to love you selflessly and you will love them back just as fiercely.”
“Does that mean I also won’t have one? Because you didn’t?” The sadness was evident in Ilya’s voice.
Irina hurriedly wrapped her arms around her son. He buried his face in her arms, not wanting her to see how sad the thought made him. “No, Ilyushenka. You can still have a soulmate even if mama doesn’t have one. My grandparents weren’t soulmates too, you know. But my papa, your dedushka, had one.”
“Really?” Ilya lifted his head and looked in her eyes. Irina felt her heart clench at the hope in her son’s face. She couldn’t promise him this, but she would not be cruel and crush his dreams.
“Yes, my love. There is always the possibility that you can have one,” she ran a hand through his golden curls, a near replica of her own. “And besides, I like to think that you’re my soulmate. Моя душенька.” My little soul.
“I can be your soulmate, mama,” Ilya says with a smile and a kiss to her cheek.
Irina burst into delighted laughter, a rare sound heard within the confines of their home. “Now, help me finish this dinner and I’ll tell you all that I know while we eat, yes?”
The dinner was filled with stories about Ilya’s grandparents. About their matching constellation tattoos, how they met, and how much they loved each other. He doesn’t have memories of his dedushka and babushka, both of them having died before Ilya turned three. But these stories from his mother brought them to life. They turned them into characters, dancing around the page and in love, no longer just faces on faded photographs and gentle voices that he could barely remember.
Ilya retired to bed that night, mind racing with thoughts of soulmarks and possibilities. He dreamt he was gliding on the icy surface of a lake, racing someone with a face he can’t quite make out, save for the smattering of freckles across cheeks that were pink from the cold, and brown eyes crinkled in laughter.
He woke up confused, the details of the dream already escaping his grasp further with every second spent awake. He had no idea why freckles seemed to cross his mind.
Oh well, he thought, the skies were clear and the stars were out last night when he walked home after all. All that talk about constellation tattoos with his mom last night must’ve made their way to his dreams.