Chapter Text
The world was going to end, Sam just knew it.
I mean, how could it be so damn cold in FLORIDA of all places? The damn palm trees had icicles on them, and the Spanish tiles on the tops of houses didn't look so exotic all covered with snow and ice. Disneyworld had shut down Splash Mountain because of the cold, and nobody was there at all even then.
Nah, it wasn't the end of the world. Everything was fine, except for the whole global warming thing, and the fact that winter storm what's-it's-face was the strongest in years. But if he ignored all those things, maybe he could pretend that he was in tropical Florida, not freeze your damn balls off Florida.
Sam wasn't interested in Disneyworld or Universal Studios or any of the over hyped mumbo jumbo that is girlfriend (more like friend with benefits), Kat, loved so much. He hated the commercialized bullshit they tried to sell you, cheap plastic hats that under no circumstances will it ever ever be okay to be seen in outside of Orlando, Florida, and he hated the cheap knockoff versions of the characters he had loved as a kid. He hated the rides that ended too quickly and the food that would most certainly give him diarrhea. He even hated Kat, who held his hand and bounced up and down like a kid in a candy store whenever she saw a Disney princess, shuddering in next to no clothing because Disney is some sort of torture franchise.
Is Sam a hateful person, you ask? No, don't be silly. The only problem is that, as his sister Allison used to say, he was like the Grinch in the fact that his heart was two sizes too small. Not really, of course. It would be quite harmful for Sam if it was true, which it wasn't, as Sam was a rather healthy human being. And even then, the heart does not control feelings, only where your blood goes and whether or not you get to live to see the next Grey's Anatomy episode. No, no. Sam's heart was not the problem, not really.
His wrist was.
You see, when Sam met Kat two years ago at some random ass event that his manager forced him to go to, he had automatically looked down at his wrist, sure that someone so breathtaking would definitely be his true mate, or soulmate, or meant to be, or whatever weird name the teenagers were calling them these days. But alas. The clock on his wrist, the clock that told him when he would meet his soulmate, said nothing. It would only begin to tick in the week before the big meet, and it said absolutely nothing.
But Sam couldn't pass by Kat, with her beautiful everything. His manager was pressuring him into a relationship with some bitchy makeup blogger named Sadie, who he was certain would screw his friends when given the chance, so he just went for Kat. She was pretty, funny, and sweet, but dumb as a bucket of rusty nails. She was the kind of girl who's head would've been a perfect bouncing platform for softballs back in high school.
He learned quickly that he could never be happy with her, but the fans had already come up with a ship name: Kam. It was trending on Twitter within the first few hours after they announced that they were dating. So he was hella stuck.
They learned to get along after a while, splattering their wrists with makeup to cover their still ticking times, and smiling for the cameras. They were friendly enough, and had slept together once, but Sam had hated it to such a degree that he had refused to even kiss her since.
Not to say that she minded.
They got progressively more frustrated as time went on, because their times never started for anyone. That meant that they would not feel romantic attraction for even longer. You see, the even more frustrating thing was that most people found their true mates in their teens. Sam's parents had met when they were both ten.
There was an old myth about the God Zeus or Odin or Ra or some shit like that, in which whatever God it was somehow managed to create two headed, four legged people, but then began to fear his own creation. The God then decided that it would be a novel idea to slice them in half and condemn them to wander without their other half. But gladly, the goddess of love took pity on their poor, unfortunate souls and was kind enough to give everyone timers to when they would meet the one. That was how Sam's grandma always explained it. But then again, his grandma was batshit crazy.
Sam personally just believed that whatever God was up there was just a massive dick who liked to screw with people's lives. Screw you, Deity.
Kat screeched, tearing her gloved hand from his and running off to yet another poor unfortunate asshole forced to wear a skimpy princess costume in frigid weather. He stumbled backwards and watched Kat gush over the poor girl, who looked absolutely overwhelmed. Sam stood there for about five minutes, tweeting about how much fun he was having, hardy harr harr, before he gave up and left for the car. They had been headed to the exit anyway, so he assumed he'd just wait.
It was hailing by the time the tram stopped by the exit, a text from Kat telling him to just go ahead and leave; one of Snow White's dwarves had invited her to a party, and the moment she had accepted, her clock had begun to tick. Well that was abrupt.
Sam cursed, grabbing his backpack and lugging himself off the tram, earning a strange look from another one of the people exiting.
"My friend's clock started ticking, and mine hasn't even blipped at the age of twenty-fucking-five." Sam griped, pushing past a judgemental elderly couple, both wearing big ass Mad Hatter hats.
How was that okay? They looked stupid as all hell.
He grimaced at all the happy ass couples climbing out of the tram with him, just after he had basically just ended a relationship. A loveless relationship, but a relationship all the same. Every race and gender was mixed together by love. It was beautiful, really, but it still left a sour taste in his mouth. There were even kids walking in front of them, their wrist clocks showing infinity signs like they did when you meet the one. These damn kids were like seven and they had it all figured out. Damnit.
Sam pushed by all the happy families and couples and out into the shitstorm that was the sky, slamming into his car, and pulling away.
Screw this. Screw love. Screw the damn clocks. Screw the entire thing. He was done trying to find someone. Life could damn well deliver love to him.
He didn't pay attention to how long he drove, or where he went; his mind captured by the fact that he was such a worthless human being that he didn't have a soulmate. There had to be something wrong with him. He had never been a bad enough person to deserve this, he was sure of it. But this proved otherwise. He hated himself more in that moment than ever before.
He didn't notice that his car had run out of gas until it literally stopped moving, and even then, it took him a few minutes to realise that he wasn't actually going anywhere.
"Fuck!" He screamed to no one in particular, pounding his fists on the dash.
The hail was getting progressively worse, denting the roof of his car. He looked around desperately for shelter, or any sign of civilization, which he found in a distant barn. Was it really worth it to try to get to it? His question was answered by a piece of hail the size of a basketball denting the roof of his car, stopping right over his head. He was basically in a collapsing tin can.
Pulling his coat over his head (which he would later surmise was a bad idea) and ditched his car, running as fast as he could to the barn. He could feel the hail and shit hitting the coat, but thankfully nothing was able to get to him. The barn came closer and closer as he stumbled madly through the chaos.
His hands slammed against the wooden door, pushing past the door frame and into the safety of the barn. It was an old barn, but it would do until the storm stopped and he could go get help.
He took a few steps into the barn before a wave of nausea swept through him, his wrist burning like he had stuck it in a fire. His entire body was hot now, and he ripped off his clothing desperately trying to get relief. His bare chest felt nothing in the cold of the winter, his torn skinny jeans doing plenty to keep him warm. He didn't take them off; no, he was not going to be caught trespassing naked in some stranger's barn.
He clawed at his wrist, wondering if he was dying from his lack of a soulmate. He struggled to see through blurry, sweat clogged eyes, squinting down at his clock.
Counting: 1 min remaining.
Sam's blood ran cold. Was this actually happening? Was he really going to meet his soulmate, after all these years of searching? But... why here? Who would be out here in the middle of nowhere? Oh, he hoped his soulmate wasn't a serial killer. He let his mind wander for a moment before jerking back to reality. What if he was not his soulmate's soulmate?
He had seen it before, in high school. His best friend Jackson had killed himself after his soulmate rejected him for her soulmate, a jock named Thom. He had seen it in movies and tv shows and plays and a hell of a lot of soap operas.
He looked down at his wrist again.
Counting: 30 seconds remaining.
Oh holy fucking shit. He was going to meet his soulmate. Maybe he wasn't so worthless after all? He smoothed out his hair, hoping to look somewhat presentable for whatever guy or gal ended up being his.
His? That sounded like slavery. But he liked the sound of it. He had never called anyone his before, much less wanted to.
His wrist numbers turned red, counting down the final seconds before his life would happen.
5...
4...
3...
2...
1...
Infinity...
Sam looked around the large room, seeing no one. His heart dropped to his stomach, looking back at his wrist. Still infinity. But no one. Was this a sign that he was meant to be alone forever?
Moments passed and he considered running into the hail, but as he turned towards the door, he heard a soft crying. A wail in the darkness behind one of the large crates, someone terrified for their life.
An invisible force led Sam toward the voice, and he knew. This was it. He was about to meet his soulmate.
"Hello?"