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I’m sorry, but your eyes are beautiful and I really want you to be my soulmate.
Dan had woken up the morning of his sixteenth birthday with those words painted across his collarbones in a sloppy but charming scrawl. The moment Dan had read them his heart had melted and he’d fallen head over heels with some mystery stranger. He used to spend his days dreaming about some epic scene from a romance movie, and every time he met someone new he was sure to look them in the eye.
But it had been three years since then, and every time one of his classmates found their soulmate or someone snapped at him about eye contact making them uncomfortable his hope faded. He was nineteen now, and after taking a gap year to meet as many people as humanly possible he finally decided he wasn’t ever going to find his soulmate. Not in Berkshire, at least. So, with an unconditional acceptance into Manchester, he left for uni.
To be quite honest, being at uni wasn’t much different from his situation back home, at least not soulmate-wise. He still made people uncomfortable with prolonged eye contact and people still made fun of him for the soppy words on his chest. The main difference in Manchester was the number of people. He could walk down the street and no matter how fast he whipped his head from side to side he still couldn’t look over half the people he passed in the eye, and he used this to his advantage. He’d always enjoyed people watching, even before his words showed up but by now he’d perfected it down to an art.
His favorite place to people-watch was a Starbucks a couple blocks away from his dorm. It was busy enough that there was a near constant stream of people in and out all day, but far enough away from campus that few of his classmates ever showed up. It was a very windy Tuesday in November that he found himself sat on one of the plush sofas, sipping his drink and absent-mindedly watching the door. Despite having been there for well over two hours, none of the employees even glanced at him, after a few weeks of coming regularly he’d become known as That Weird Uni Kid Who Just Watches the Door, No He Doesn’t Want Any More Coffee Just Don’t Talk to Him.
He was on the last dregs of his latte and seeing as the coffeehouse was empty anyways, he was ready to give up for the day when the door suddenly burst open, powered by a gust of wind and an overzealous push from the man standing there. “Sorry!” the man squeaked, a pink flush rising to his cheeks. “I just- the wind-”
Dan couldn’t help it. He giggled at the flustered man, and since the room was silent other than the two of them and the machines whirring behind the counter, he was easily heard. The man looked over at him, they locked eyes, the man smiled and Dan quit breathing. The man was easily the most attractive person Dan had seen in a long time and the way his smile split his cheeks and made his blue eyes sparkle was positively beautiful. Dan suddenly realized he’d been gaping openly and blushed bright red, brought his (cold) coffee to his mouth and proceeded to choke on it. The man laughed, hiding it behind a hand, and after looking over to make sure Dan was alright he went up to the counter and ordered his drink.
Dan watched carefully as the man and Mindy spoke. They obviously had the normal exchange of order and price, but after that the man lingered, talking to a now very confused Mindy who dug her hand in her apron pocket and handed something over. The man beamed at her (Dan tried his best not to feel jealous, but it didn’t work) and went to retrieve his drink. Dan was so focused on trying to figure out what Mindy could have possibly given the man that he didn’t notice the person in question was walking in his direction until he was stood directly in front of him. Dan craned his neck to look up at the man who was probably even taller than himself and opened his mouth to say something but was cut off.
“I’m sorry, but your eyes are beautiful and I really want you to be my soulmate.”
Dan didn’t even have a moment to register what the man had said before he was coughing and blinking rapidly to remove the dust from his eyes and lungs. He looked down at his now horrifically sparkling hands then back up to the man who now looked extremely guilty and spat, “Why the fuck did you just throw a pot of fucking glitter in my face?”
“I’m sorry!” the man insisted, but for some sick reason he looked absolutely thrilled. “I know this might seem crazy, but I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates.”
“Can we talk about this when I’m not crying fairy dust?”
“Right! Sorry!” the man said again, gently pulling Dan up to guide him to the bathroom. “I’m Phil, by the way.” With an impressive show of strength he hoisted Dan up onto the sink countertop and began to wipe at his nose mouth and eyes with a damp paper towel. “I really am sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
By this time Dan had taken a moment to go over what had just happened, more specifically what the man - Phil - had said before attacking him with arts and craft supplies. “Did you say you wanted me to be your soulmate because my eyes are pretty?”
Phil cringed and scratched the back of his neck. “Um, yes? Again, sorry, I don’t know what came over me. You were just there and the barista just happened to have glitter and it seemed perfect. I probably should have realized that would be most people’s reaction to having glitter thrown at them. I should count myself lucky that you didn’t punch me square in the face.
Dan laughed, causing Phil to grin sheepishly at him. “Well, Phil, I’m Dan, and this isn’t quite how I imagined this would go, but I think today is our lucky day.”
Then he started to pull his shirt over his head and Phil squawked, turning bright red. “Dan! What are you doing?! I’m not having sex in a Starbucks bathroom with a stranger I just assaulted with glitter!” he said, absolutely scandalized.
Dan cackled at Phil’s discomfort, before flicking him on the nose. “We’re not having sex, you spoon. I’m assuming you want to see my words.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
And with Phil silenced, Dan continued to take off his shirt, revealing the words beneath it. “This is my handwriting,” Phil breathed. He lifted his fingers to brush across, but paused just above. “Can I?”
“Yeah, sure, but if you touch my neck I will not hesitate to karate chop you.”
Phil giggled but heeded the warning, only tracing over the letters written on Dan’s collarbones. “I can’t believe this is the first thing I said to you,” he pouted. “I wanted my soulmate to have something smooth, but you got desperate weirdo.”
“To be fair, I just met you and I think you are a desperate weirdo,” Dan teased. “Besides, I thought it was a romantic first thing to say to someone. The glitter, however, not so much.”
Phil let out a mock offended noise. “How else was I supposed to get you to say that? Also, you have awful handwriting. It took me almost a week to decipher it.”
“Speaking of which, where is it? You’re sitting over here stroking my collarbones like Gollum and I haven’t even seen yours.”
“My preeecious,” Phil crooned, in a scarily good impression of the creepy creature, rubbing his cheek on the protruding bone. He laughed when Dan shrieked and batted him away then offered up his wrist for inspection. “There it is. Everyone thought my soulmate was going to shout at me in Japanese for the first couple days. I thought maybe my soulmate was a mummy come back from the dead and these were actually ancient hieroglyphics.”
“I hate you,” Dan pouted, looking up from Phil’s wrist. Sure enough Why the fuck did you just throw a pot of fucking glitter in my face? was crookedly looped around Phil’s arm in a familiar chicken scratch.
“I suppose you could,” Phil shrugged with a grin, “but somehow I doubt it.” He tapped Dan’s collar for emphasis.
Dan wound his arms around Phil’s neck and pulled him in closer with a grin. “I suppose you’re right.” As soon as their lips touched Dan felt a strangely satisfying tingle on his collarbones, he could definitely get used to this.