Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

William Wilford Warfstache never understood the hype about having a Soulmate. 

Even as a child, the idea of half of your soul in another person's body, and somehow that meant that you both were supposed to be happy together, sounded preposterous. That somehow on your 12th birthday, you would get your Soulmate's first words on your wrist, was just flat out crazy, even for Wilford. Sure, he's seen the words on his parent's wrists many of times, the words, Hey, watch where you're going! on his mom's, and Wait, say that again, on his dad's, but they never meant anything to the boy. It wasn't like the words kept them from fighting about everything under the sun and more. 

Pretty much all of the kids at his school made their 12th birthday a big deal, celebrating with parties and private sleepovers reserved to their best friends. The next day, they would saunter into school flashing off their words to everyone that would listen, and even to those who didn't want to. 

"Hey Wil!" one kid in his class called out to him one day. "When's your birthday?"

Wilford blinked in confusion, not sure why this person would be asking him that question. "In two weeks," he replied nonchalantly, knowing that this year when he woke up, words would be printed on his wrist. Even though he didn't care for Soulmate's all that much, he couldn't help but feel a little bit of excitement, wondering what his so called Soulmate's first words would be to him.

The entire class gasped, suddenly all around him, asking questions. "You're turning twelve, aren't you?"

"Did you already turn twelve?"

"What do you think your Soulmate's first words will be?"

"Do you think they'll be a boy or a girl?"

It went on and on, someone grabbing his wrist to check and see if there were words on it, and Wilford snatched his hand back with a growl, growing annoyed at the words from his classmates quickly. They never talked to him much, saying he was weird and bound to be a serial killer when he got older (he's considered starting now many of times), so this attention was odd. 

"I don't want a Soulmate!" he snapped without realizing. The entire room went silent in a heartbeat at his words, but the boy didn't care. It was true, he didn't want to have to take care of anyone, didn't want to love anyone. He's seen how it's torn people apart, how people become obsessed with it until it's the only thing they care about, how people lose everything because of it. 

Wilford didn't want that. He refused to fall into that trap.

Just as suddenly as everyone had crowded him, they were gone, whispering amongst themselves, probably about what Wilford had just said. The boy didn't care about what they said, or what they think. Let them hate him, let them think he was weird and odd for not wanting a Soulmate. Let them spread whatever rumors the wanted, in the end when he was free and living his life the way he wanted and they were stuck with someone for the rest of their lives, forever trapped, they would think of him, how good he must have it. How happy he must be.

Wilford glared at anyone who dared look at him the entire day, keeping his distance from everyone more than usual.

"Maybe he won't have a Soulmate," one girl whispered as he passed by. 

"Maybe he's lying about his age and he's 12th birthday has already passed," another boy whispered back.

It took all of Wilford's willpower not to deck the both of them, maybe get started on that serial killer job early, but he held himself back. He didn't need to get in trouble again, especially with everything that was going on.

Wilford self consciously rubbed his wrist, where he knew words would eventually form. Maybe that girl was right: he wouldn't have a Soulmate. There was a small percentage of people who never got words on their 12th birthday, the lucky ones, Wilford always called them. No one could explain why they didn't have any words, but to the boy, it seemed perfect, to not have to worry about a Soulmate, to not have to worry about anyone but himself.

I would really like it if I didn't have a Soulmate, he said in his mind, as if there was some all powerful being above him that would listen to him. His parents might have believed in some god or whatever, but Wilford would not. He refused to blindly believe in something he could not physically see or touch.

The boy rubbed his wrist again. It was becoming red in irritation, but he didn't notice. Despite his feelings towards having a Soulmate, the boy couldn't stop thinking about them, what they might be like, what their interests would be. He didn't particularly care whether if they were male or female; it didn't really matter in the end.

Wilford scolded himself for letting his thoughts go that direction. He hated Soulmates, hated the idea of them, hated that he would be forced to have one. It had to stay that way.

For the life of me, if I do have a Soulmate, I might just kill them.

"You mean they just appear on your arm? For no reason?"

The lady Bim Trimmer was talking to, Miss Anne, just chuckled good naturally, bringing the small boy to sit on her lap. She held out her arm, pulling up her long sleeves to reveal the skin beneath. There, right on her pale wrist, were the words written in green, small print, I thought you would be a man. Bim grabbed the arm in his childlike fascination, tracing the words with his small, stubby fingers. They didn't have a feeling or anything; it was like the words were apart of Miss Anne's skin, not their own separate piece. 

"Why don't I have words?" the young boy questioned, looking up to the lady. He wanted them too! But why did she have them? What made them so important?

"Well you see Bim, you don't get them until you turn twelve. Before then, you can't know," she told him, as if it was some special secret for only him to know.

"But Miss Anne, what do they mean?" In the back of the boy's mind, he thought that it sucked that it would be 7 years until he got his own words. Why on earth did it take so long to get them? Why that age?

The lady looked taken aback for a moment, as if everyone should know what the words mean. "Did no one ever tell you about Soulmates?"

Bim shook his head, eyes wide in curiosity. Soulmates? What are those? They sounded really cool, and he couldn't recall his parents ever telling him about them. He shuttered slightly at the thought of his parents, but tried to ignore it and focus on Miss Anne, who shifted him slightly on her lap before continuing. 

"Well, everyone is said to be born with half of two souls, your own, and someone else's," Miss Anne started. "The person who has the other half of your soul is your Soulmate, someone who is supposed to love you and be with you for all your days."

"Like when people have those big parties and put on rings?" Bim jumped in before she could go any further. Miss Anne laughed and said yes, but it was a bit more complicated than that. 

"You can choose who you want to marry, even if they're not your Soulmate. You can't choose your Soulmate, however."

Bim nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. "But what does that have to do with the words?"

"The words on your wrist are the first words your Soulmate says to you," said Miss Anne, lifting up her arm again. "So you see, my Soulmate's first words to me are, I thought you would be a man."

"Does your Soulmate have your first words to them on their arm?"

Miss Anne nodded, eyes looking distant for a moment. "Yep." She trailed off, stroking the words on her arm like some sort soothing technique for her.

"Do you want to meet your Soulmate?" Bim asked quietly, suddenly scared to say too much. He's been hit before for saying too much, been kicked out of his home for being too annoying. Would Miss Anne do that to him? He sure hoped she wouldn't; Miss Anne seemed like such a nice lady. But now she looked so sad; mouth cast downward and eyes glazed over with a memory. 

She looked him in the eye, struggling to find a smile within her. "I've already met them, Bim," she told him, rocking the boy back and forth. 

The boy nodded again, eyes growing heavy with the gentle movements, but he still had one question left. 

"Do you think I'll have a Soulmate? Do you think they won't leave me?" Bim wondered, hugging Miss Anne tighter, praying that she wouldn't get mad at his questions.

"Of course, Bim! Whatever made you think that you wouldn't have one?" Miss Anne sounded so appalled by his question, and Bim whimpered and flinched back, expecting to get hit. The lady seemed to understand immediately, cupping his face in her hands. "Look at me, sweetie," she instructed gently. Bim complied, trying to hold back his tears. "Someone out there has half your soul, half of your heart. They will love you, and you will find them, even if I have to drag you across the entire world to do so. You got it?"

Bim nodded, and Miss Anne relaxed at this. She cradled him close, humming sweetly into his ear, pulling him into slumber.

Having someone to love him forever, to hold him close and tell him everything would be alright. Someone that held part of his very soul in their body, someone that could understand him. It sounded so wonderful, so amazing. He wanted to meet them now, not some time in the future. He wanted to know what his Soulmate's first words would be to him.

If I have a Soulmate, I might not ever let go.

Wilford stared up at his ceiling fan, watching it wirl 'round and 'round, trying to get it to make him fall asleep. For the past hour and a half it hadn't worked, but he was determined for it to. He refused to look at the neon green numbers at his bedside, the ones that were slowly creeping to midnight, the ones ticking closer and closer to his 12th birthday. The boy was set on being asleep when it happened, hoping with everything he had that when he woke up the next morning his wrist would be blank, and he would be free.

He relaxed his body, making it go limp, thinking that might help. After another 15 minutes and nothing, Wilford let out a noise of frustration. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask for?

Finally unable to resist the temptation, the boy turned on his side towards his clock. The numbers read, 11:21, and his heart started to pound, realizing just how close his birthday was, just how close he was to getting his words. 

After a moment of pondering, Wilford decided that enough was enough. If he was going to have a Soulmate, then so be it. He would not shy away like some coward about it. That didn't mean he would be happy about it, but he had to come to terms with it.

Throwing the covers from his body, Wilford stepped into the cool air, opening his door to reveal the quiet darkness of the night and house. It seemed his parents had finally stopped arguing about whatever they decided to disagree about that night, probably something stupid and ridiculous. It was hard to think of them as Soulmates with as much as they argued, and it was one of the many reasons Wilford didn't want one. The universe may have 'chosen them' or whatever, but most days they were at each other's throats. Wilford was sure they even forgot about his birthday, even with this one being so 'important' or whatever. 

The boy mentally slapped himself out of his thought, walking to the roof access on his floor that his dad had installed in so many years ago. He pulled up on it, using his upper body strength to hull his whole body up onto the ladder. Then he started climbing, not looking down until he was on the roof, sitting on the edge and dangling his feet.

The night air felt really nice, the gentle breeze rustling his short hair. He came up here often when he couldn't sleep, just enjoying the peace of the night and the stars. Would his Soulmate enjoy the stars?

Wilford narrowed his eyes at himself, trying to stop the thoughts of Soulmates and love. It was getting increasingly harder and harder to do so.

Time passed slowly up here. Wilford listened to the hooting of owls in the distance, grasshoppers, stared up to the blinking stars that seemed to dance. Everything was perfect until his wrist started tingling.

At first he ignored it, trying to fool himself into thinking that nothing was happening, but it quickly grew into something he couldn't get away from. With a heavy sense of dread, Wilford looked down to arm, seeing the first strokes of words appearing on his arm. They continued gradually, feeling like a gentle press of warmth against his skin. He heard somewhere that the feeling for everyone getting their words was different, but he had never really thought about it until now. 

As the words went on and became more solidified, Wilford noticed than they were a golden color, shining against the dark sky like a star itself. The strokes went on and on, until finally, it stopped. 

There, right on his wrist, were the words he had dreaded for so long. The words that would tie him to his Soulmate forever. He read the words carefully, making sure he wasn't reading them wrong, but no, they were right.

Please, I don't want to die! 

"Please Travis, just this one night?"

Bim's roommate at the orphanage, Travis, just sighed. The older boy finished making his bed before he turned back to Bim, a look of someone who has finally given up on fighting a losing battle. "Fine," he mumbled, and Bim cheered, hugging Travis tightly. The other boy grumbled something about Bim having to to do his chores for this, but he didn't care. If he stayed up for Travis's 12th birthday (even if the boy didn't want him to) Travis was staying up for his.

The younger boy caught eye of the words on the olders hand, but Bim didn't need to see it to know what it looked like. It was a bright yellow color, standing out greatly against his dark skin, with perfect, flowy cursive writing. His words read, Step it up, jackass! 

Bim really liked Travis's words. 

But anyway, tonight at midnight, on Bim's 12th birthday, he would be getting his own words, something he's been waiting to get ever since he first knew what they were. He was one of the youngest kids in the entire orphanage (except for the twins, both who were 2 years) and everyone else had their words; the boy was itching in anticipation for them, to finally know his Soulmate's first words to him, to know for certain that he would have one. Bim begged every night that he wouldn't be one of the few people in the world who didn't have a Soulmate. The boy didn't know what he would do with himself if he didn't have one.

The boy looked over at the clock. The big hand pointed at 12, while the small one pointed over to 6, so it was exactly 6 o'clock. 6 More hours until he would get his words. 6 more hours and he would know what his Soulmate says to him.

Just 6 more hours.

Bim jumped into his bed, a bubbly feeling spreading throughout his entire body. He wondered what his Soulmate's first words to him would be. Would they be something simple, like two people accidentally running into each other? Or maybe something more weird like Travis's is? Bim didn't know, but he wanted to. He wanted to know so bad.

"Don't tell me you're getting ready for bed already," Travis deadpanned, blank expression on his face. To anyone else it would look like the older boy was annoyed with Bim, but the younger boy knew better. Travis just had a hard time showing affection.

"And what if I am?" Bim giggled back, sitting up with a smile, pushing his glasses back into place.

Travis sighed, plopping down on his own bed. "You're hopeless when it comes to this Soulmate stuff."

"I've been waiting for this for 12 years, Travis! Of course I'm hopeless when it comes to something this important!" 

Travis rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's not this whole big ceremony you're thinking of, though. It just... appears, one moment it's not there, the next it is."

"I don't care," Bim said immediately. "I just really want to know, okay? Is that too much to ask?"

The older mumbled something to himself, but didn't reply. Bim smiled to himself, knowing he won this round. He turned to his side to look at the clock again, which now read 5 after 6. 

5 hours and 55 minutes to go.

Time skip.

Bim was starting to get tired. His eyes dropped further and further every time he blinked, body trying to pull him under with the warmth of his bed. Travis fell asleep about an hour ago, and the younger boy couldn't blame him. They still had school tomorrow, regardless of his 12th birthday.

But the clock now said 11:45. He couldn't give up yet, he had to know what his words were. He had to know what his Soulmate would say to him the first time they meet. He wanted to see the words appear on his skin, the color they would be and what his Soulmate's handwriting looked like. That was the only thing keeping his up at this point, the adrenaline of everything happening here and now.

The hands slowly moved, inching closer and closer to midnight. Bim kept his eyes glued to it, more and more adrenaline flooding his system with each tick that came from the clock. 

Ten minutes left.

The boy sat up, putting his glasses on so that he could see better, and carefully turned on his lap to the lowest setting so that Travis wouldn't be woken up. he he went back to staring at the clock.

Seven minutes left.

Bim fiddled with his hands, now fully awake. Anticipation flooded his system, praying for the time to go by faster.

Five minutes left.

Four minutes left.

Two minutes left.

One minute left.

30 seconds left. 

Bim's breathing picked up, now staring intently at his wrist. The sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway rang throughout the orphanage, telling the whole world it was now midnight. The boy's breathing stopped for several seconds, searching for any sign of words forming, but after 15, nothing was appearing.

Fear pooled in Bim's stomach. What if he was one of the few that didn't have a Soulmate? That couldn't be! He must have one, right? He couldn't be left alone!

Then, just had Bim was about to give up, excruciating pain flooded his arm, all the way up to his shoulders and back. The boy gasped harshly, arm trembling already from the sudden pain. Bim grasped his arms only to let it go, each movement causing the extreme pain to get worse. He whimpered, tears forming in his eyes and the pain became more centered and focused, right above his wrist. What looked like blood started to dot and spread, forming words in long, almost slurred, flowy writing. 

Bim was in too much pain to read what the words said at first. The blood like substance continued one; turning his skin red in irritation before settling into his skin like a tattoo. The pain finally stopped, tears running down the boy's face, but he still didn't make a sound. He learned a long time ago what happened when you did that.

Mind now not fuzzy with pain, Bim slowly read what his words said, an odd sense of dread rolling through his heart with each moment. That couldn't be right. 

Bim rubbed at his eyes, hoping they were playing tricks on him. But now, they were very much real.

You look so beautiful dressed in blood.   

"This is the third time this week, William! There must be something wrong that we can talk about!"

Wilford felt his hand twitch at that name. He hated that name, hated that he was named after his grandfather, hated that this stupid councilor refused to call him Wilford. How damn hard was it to do that? He's said it dozens of time, and yet she still does it. It was driving him crazy.

"My name is Wilford," he snapped, completely ignoring the second part of her statement. He realized that maybe getting into fights with people were bad, but he couldn't help it. They were just too stupid for their own good and practically begged for it every time, even after he kicks their asses. 

The counselor sighs, and at that moment it came to the teen that he didn't even know her name. He sees her pretty much every week, yet he never asked for a name. Sure, she's probably said it before, but he couldn't remember what.

"Alright then. Let's talk about something else," she put down her clipboard (Wilford was tempted to snap it in two right then and there) and straightened her skirt. "How are you today?"

"Feeling pretty shitty, don't know about you," Wilford said without hesitation, feeling a slight amusement when the counselor gasped in horror. He stopped himself from smirking, feeling his eyes flinch as they tried to smile.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't curse with me, William."

"And I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me that name, like I've asked you before, but we all can't have what we want, can we?"

She opened her mouth, ready to say something back, but her cell phone went off, and she stopped. Grumbling to herself, the counselor fished the phone out of her bag, lighting up instantly when she saw who it was. Wilford didn't know who she could be so happy to see, but he got a pretty clear idea when she answered the call with , "yes honey?"

Wilford wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something rotten. He hated watching Soulmate's interact with each other, it was disgusting and made him want to vomit. How love sick they would be, how dreamy they became. Plenty of times he's considered taking a gun and shooting both of them in the head, but he never did. Lucky him.

The talking went on for quite some time, long enough for Wilford to get properly annoyed with it. He seriously thought about just walking out of the room when she finally hung up, smiling like she had been drugged or something. Love, more than likely.

"You done being a little Soul Bird?" Wilford geared, meaning to use it as an insult. It was what he called people in this state, all sappy and happy like little birds hopping from tree to tree.

"Hmmm?" the counselor hummed. "Yes, I love having a Soulmate. He was the first person to offer me a seat in the cafeteria. I'll never forget the expression on his face," she said longingly, and nope, Wilford did not want to deal with this shit, but it seemed it was too late. She lifted her arm, and even at the distance they were from each other the teen could see the words, How about you sit here? written in teal script. Wilford instinctively went for his own wrist, his words feeling like they were burning into his skin. He tried to ignore the dread that always came with thinking about them, how they physically and metaphorically tied him to his Soulmate. He would drive himself insane.

At least, even closer to insanity than he already was.

The words, "I don't care," flew from his mouth before he could process what he was thinking. Damn him and his loud mouth, always saying things at the worse times.

This seemed to snap the counselor from her daze, eyes wide in shock. "But surely you must think having a Soulmate will be amazing! To have someone to love and and not care about you imperfections," she insisted.

Wilford growled, the same song and dance playing out every time he said something like that. Why couldn't people just mind their own fucking business?

"No, they trap you in a sick cycle of 'you have to love me, I'm your Soulmate' bullshit that gets shoved down everyone's throat since they've been born! You're never told about how it forces people into relationships too early, how gives you that fake sense of security that can never be fixed, how it forces them have a child they never wanted in order to keep the fucking mess of a relationship intact! Well guess what, I've seen it, and I'm not going to fall for it! If I ever find my Soulmate, I'll make sure to shot them in the head so that they can never ruin my life! And if my words are anything to go by, that seems to be exactly what happens!" 

The room became very silent after that, so silent that Wilford could hear his own heart beating fast with rage and adrenaline. The counselor looked at him with pity, and for that he hated her more. She didn't know what it was like to live with parents that had you not because they wanted you, but because they wanted to keep their relationship with each other together. It was sick.

"But you must have some sort of hope for your Soulmate? You know all of them don't turn out that way, right?" she asked gently, and Wilford scoffed.

"I'd much rather be alone and not know where half of my soul is than wander the earth looking for it."

"Common, Trimmer! Why can't you just show us?"

"Yeah Trimmer, scared or somethin'? You must have words!"

Bim hustled through the hallway, trying to ignore the people behind him. He tugged nervously on his long sleeved shirt, bringing it down further over his hand to hide his wrist. For whatever reason, a whole big rumor started going around about Bim and his words, and even though the teen wasn't entirely sure what it was about, it gathered enough interest that people wanted to see for themselves. The people in the hallway parted a little bit more than usual for him, and Bim knew they were probably interested as well.

The teen walked faster, trying to shake the people behind him. He didn't know how many there were now, but when it had began there had only been two of them. Now it felt like, there was a whole damn mob.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around, causing Bim to stumble from the change. In front of him was one of Bim's long time bullies, Jake, a large smirk on his face.

"It's not so bad, Trimmer," Jake said, mocking sweetness in his tone. "We just wanna see what they are!"

"It's none of your business!" Bim snapped without realizing, instantly hearing how everyone grew quiet around him. The teen gulped, gripping his shirt sleeve with his fingers to keep it down. Ever since he's had them he's kept them hidden, afraid of how everyone would react. The only person he's show was Travis, and he graduated last year and was off to college.

Jake's eyes narrowed, bringing his face closer. "Why are you so insistent on keeping them hidden? Everyone knows each others words, it's no big deal," he went for Bim's arm, but Bim held it back, slapping Jake's hand with his other hand. 

The taller teen growled at this point, practically lunging at the other boy, but Bim dodged. A ring of people had formed around them now, almost as if they were going to fight. Where the Hell was a teacher when you needed them?

Bim tried to escape through the mass of people, but they only pushed him back in. "Yeah!" they seemed to scream at him. "Just show us!"

What kind of fucking rumor had spread so quickly that this may people were so curious about his words? No one had ever been before; it just didn't make sense.

In his moment of distraction, Jake had managed to snag Bim's arm, pulling it up. The teen panicked, trying to get his arm free but to no avail. Jake only laughed, saying again that it was no big deal, but Bim couldn't help but feel it was. There was a very good reason he kept them hidden for so long. 

With one quick movement, Jake brought down Bim's sleeve them same time the teen said, "no!" Bim tried to pull away again, but the grip on his wrist was bruising, and the added pain from his words weren't helping.

For a solid 10 seconds, no one said anything, all looking on in shock. Bim trembled, the pain slowly becoming worse, too afraid to look up and see them. He knew what he would find.

Without any warning, his wrist was let go, and the teen cradled it to his chest, face to face with his words. His stomach became slightly queasy at looking at them, like he always seemed to feel. Something about them... they just made him sick. Not just the words themself, but the way they looked. Most people, it was just the words and nothing else, on Bim's however, it was much different.

The words, You look so beautiful dressed in blood, were clear enough, written in long, blood red letters that took up most of his forearm, the surrounding skin red and irritated almost 24/7. But that wasn't the most alarming thing about them; all around the words there looked to be droplets of blood that cracked his skin, drops that had never gotten washed off. It reminded the teen of a horror movie, but instead of it all being inside of someones head, this was real. It was enough to disturb anyone who got a good look at it, which was one of the reasons Bim had kept it hidden.

The teen looked up, seeing all eyes on him, some in shock, some in horror, others unreadable. He turned to Jake, whose eyes were wide in disbelief.

"Happy?" Bim whispered. But before he got a reply, the voice of a teacher broke through the silence. 

"What's going on here!?"

The crowd immediately filled in the circle before the teacher could get a proper look at it, chatter filling the hallway once again. Bim shoved down his sleeve, covering the words once more, feeling them burn from the fabric. He kept his head down the entire, trying not to look anyone in the eye.

What had he done to deserve those horrible rumors, those horrible words? He wished he knew.

"Please don't let my Soulmate be a horrible person," he mumbled to himself. "I don't want to spend my life looking for a madman."   

It was so gorgeous, the blood. The way it spread and coated every inch of ground, its scarlet, shiny color, the way it poured from the person's body. Everything about it was just so... perfect. The liquid of life.

Wilford stared down at the knife in his hand, feeling the warm substance dripping down his arm and off his elbow, then back down to the two bodies. A giant, crazed smile appeared on his face, remembering how they struggled and tried to protect one another, how terrified they had been of him. 

Soulmate's were best killed together, it seemed.

He's never really tried two Soulmate's together like this before, but now that he has, he wants to do it again. He loved how their bodies finally gave up the fight as they held onto each other, the life leaving their eyes.

Wilford kicked one of the bodies, the female, and laughed as it fell limply. She was holding desperately on her partners arm, and in a quick inspection the young adult found words on both appendages. He compared them, smirking once he read them both.

What's someone like you working on this side of town for? was on the girl's arm, written in silver writing.

Better than being one of those strippers, I'll tell you that, was on the boy's arm in violet words.

Wilford wondered if this was the side of town they were talking about. It was definitely shady to say the least. They should have gotten out when they still had the chance, maybe they would be alive right now. 

The young adult laughed again, entire body shaking from it. The euphoria was starting wear off though, and he still had to get rid of the bodies before someone saw and called the police. It was Wilford's least favorite part of the whole killing thing, but it had to be done or else he would be sent to jail in a heartbeat. He grumbled, picking up the female first since she was bleeding much less than her partner. She was surprisingly heavy, but he guessed that was expected from a dead body that couldn't hold it's own weight. Wilford grunted as he dragged her to the dumpster, heaving the lid open and shoving her in.

"You need help there?"

Wilford whipped around, knife out and ready to stab anyone the came near him, but he found no one to do that to. He growled, hissing, "who's there?" into the alley. 

In the darkest corner of the alley stepped out a figure that had been completely hidden by shadow. He wore a fancy suit, black hair brushed to the side like some model, and all in all looked like someone Wilford would have gladly stabbed any other day. But for some reason, he didn't. He had the feeling something was different with this one.

"I'm Dark," the figure said, and Wilford instantly had a hard time believing that, but he didn't say anything, keeping his blood stained knife pointed in the others direction. "I thought you could use some help. I've been watching you for quite some time now, and I think we could be... partners of sorts."

Wilford tilted his head. "You've been stalking me, rich boy? Think you can do what I do without getting your pretty hands dirty?"

Within the span of a moment, Dark was in front of him, grabbing the front of Wilford's shirt and shoving him against the wall with brute force. Wilford remind shocked as Dark leaned him, forcing him to look deep into Dark's black eyes.

"It was a simple yes or no question, deerie," Dark slurred with fake sweetness, and Wilford thought right then in there that he was in love. This Dark might have been shorter and looked prissy, but he could clearly handle his own.

Wilford leaned in, smiling widely. "If you keep handling me like that gorgeous, I might just have to accept."

Dark stepped back cracking his neck as if to straighten it out before giving his hand. "Do we have a partnership?" he questioned, ignoring the last part of what Wilford said.

The other gladly grabbed Dark's hand, both shaking with unseen strength.

"I think we do have a deal, gorgeous. I'll have to see what else those hands can do in a crime!"

Dark smirked along with Wilford. "Don't worry," he reassured. "You will."

Bim stood in front of the orphanage he's lived most of his life, giving it one last, long look. Looking at the faded red brick, the colorful chalk all over the sidewalks, the little garden on the side growing the foods that they ate. He thought of all the memories of this place, the friends he made, the friends he lost, the home it gave him.

He would never come back here again. He was an adult now, 18 years. He was no longer allowed to live here.

Bim looked over at Miss Anne seeing how her curly hair had turned silver and white, wrinkles covering the corners of her eyes and mouth from where she smiled so much. She was still as strong as she had ever been, never failing to bring Bim up whenever he felt down on himself, never failed to reassuring him whenever he was sad. And now, here he was, all grown up. He would have to take care of himself now. It made him so miserable to know he was leaving behind the one person he counted as a parent.

Miss Anne seemed to sense his sadness, facing him and cupping his face with her strong and callused, hands and wiping away the stray tears that had somehow formed without him realizing. Bim looked into her dark green eyes, seeing her sadness to see him go as well. But she had a job to do. She had to give these kids that didn't have a home one, like she did with him. 

"Listen, Bim," she told him firmly, making sure he was listening to her. "You're going to do amazing things. You're going to college, getting that dream job, and one day the entire world will know your name, and I will have had the pleasure to say, 'I raised Bim Trimmer.' You'll leave your mark on the world like no one else could. You'll leave them screaming your name, got it?"

Bim laughed, more hot tears running down his face. "Yes Miss Anne," he said, mostly for old times sake. He hasn't been that formal with her in years.

"And don't you worry about your Soulmate. They'll come around sooner or later," Miss Anne patted his cheek, and Bim wondered if she would read his mind. She always seemed to be able to. The now adult tugged on his long sleeved shirt, trying to ignore the permanent burning his words caused. He still never gathered up the courage to show her them, to ask her what they meant, but he guessed it was too late now. He would have to figure them out himself.

"Yes Miss Anne."

She smiled sadly, bringing him down so that she could give him one giant, long, hard hug that felt like it lasted a life time. Bim didn't mind, hugging her back with the same strength and passion. He furiously blinked away the new tears that wanted to to spill, burying his head into her shoulder. She rubbed his back up and down, humming the tune to a song he didn't know.

When would he feel this comforted again? Feel this safe? He didn't know.

At that moment, the sound of a bus pulling up came from behind him, and Bim knew it was for him, that this would be the bus that took him away from here forever and bring him into a new life. He let go of Miss Anne, never wanting to let go but knowing he must. 

"I have to leave, Miss Anne," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back.

Bim slowly picked up his bags, walking over to the bus, not looking behind him. He's been on the bus dozens on times, but now it seemed scary, leaving this place behind. Finally he managed to step up onto the bus, step by step until he was at a seat, staring out the window and at the orphanage. Miss Anne was staring back, tears shamelessly falling down. Bim waved at her until the bus started moving, and didn't stop looking back until she was out of sigh.

Taking a deep breath, Bim looked foreword, seeing the man driving the bus looking at him through the mirror. The man smiled, as if he knew what was going on and simply asked him,

"Where to, son?"

Well this was just peachy.

"Well shit."

Wilford stared down at the body at his feet. It wasn't like it surprised him; he's seen plenty of dead bodies in his lifetime, but this one was unexpected. Therefore, he didn't have Dark on him to clean up the mess, and he wasn't prepared to deal with this in the slightest. His only weapon on him was his gun, and there was no was Wilford was going to use it in someplace as close to people as this. He had to use a broken glass bottle to finally kill the man, a gang member of sorts, and it hadn't been pretty. His neck was sliced to pieces, holes in his chest and legs, blood pouring everywhere, a lot of it on Wilford himself.

How the Hell was he supposed to deal with this?

Sure, he guessed he could call Dark, but Wilford didn't know what the other man did when they weren't together. He made it very clear not to disturb him when they were apart for any reason except emergencies. 

This probably counted as an emergency.

But before Wilford could gather his courage to call up Dark, the sound of running footsteps came from the beginning of the alley way he was in. The man cursed, quickly sinking into the darkness like Dark had taught him to. He wasn't as natural as the other man, but he managed. 

The person, a male by the sound of it, swiftly came into Wilford's dim vision, dark hair that curled around his ears and black frames perched on his nose. He was also oddly enough wearing a suit, and for a moment Wilford wondered if it was Dark, but immediately threw that out the window. Dark wasn't that soft, didn't look that young.

Dark also wouldn't look at a dead body, turn as pale as a ghost, and run right up to it.

Like what the fuck was this kid even doing?

The kid fell to his knees, shaking the dead body like it would somehow make him alive again. He didn't seem to notice the blood soaking his clothes or hands, and he even tried stopping the blood! How young was this kid that he didn't know when a person was dead, and that they weren't coming back?

He then started fumbling for his phone, and at that moment Wilford realized what he had to do. Unless he wanted a whole squad of cops right here without him cleaning up the body first, he was going to have to kill the kid. Wilford sighed to himself, already tired of this bullshit. All he wanted was a damn cup of coffee and now he has to deal with this! Why couldn't things just go according to plan?

Gripping the broken glass still in his hand, Wilford slowly stepped out of the shadows and towards the kid, making sure to keep silent so that he wouldn't know he was behind him. Just as he got behind the kid, he whipped around as if he sensed Wilford behind him, gasping. He looked up with wide eyes, an odd golden color Wilford noticed, and became stricken with fear within a heartbeat.

The kid scrambled back from the body, stumbling to get up, but Wilford didn't let him. The man lunged for him, pinning the kid down with his shere weight and size alone. It seemed this kid was either really weak or really stupid, because he tried to push Wilford off with his skinny arms. Wilford grunted, grabbing his hands easily and pinned them above his head, restricting all movement by squeezing the kids hips and waist with his knees.

The man raised the glass above his head, taking one last look at the kid below him. The fear in his eyes was delicious, and tears were now running down his face, mixing with the blood. Wilford smiled as if to apologize, when the kid said something he wasn't expecting at all.

"Please, I don't want to die!"

Wilford froze, his body forgetting how to function. The glass in his hand fell from his grip, shattering completely right next to the kid head, who whimpered and cringed away from the sound. That couldn't be right- no- how the hell-

His arm was growing warm now, his words glowing through his shirt, feeling as if they wanted to turn into a star with how warm they were getting, but Wilford hardly payed attention to it. All he could focus on was the kid below him, trembling and terrified.

The kid that just said the words tattooed to his wrist.

The kid that was covered in blood from head to toe from trying to help someone bleeding out of the ground, the red substance dripping down his face and hair, framing him like a picture. Those gold eyes that looked so young, too young to die.

It was so beautiful.

Before Wilford could process it, the words came flying out of his mouth. "You look so beautiful dressed in blood."

In an instant the kid stopped all movement, looking up at Wilford with a shocked expression, mouth opened slightly. And that's when Wilford knew.

He had found his Soulmate.

The man slowly lowered his hand, gently cupping the kid's face with it. He didn't resist, even leaning into Wilford's touch. This must be what it feels like, Wilford thought. To be side by side with your Soulmate, that drunk, buzzy, amazing feeling that he always hated to see on other people. That's what he thought it was, anyway. What else was this desire supposed to be? This warmth that was spreading throughout his entire body?

Without thinking about it, Wilford leaned down, capturing the boy's lips with his own. They were so warm and soft, and Wilford couldn't help but moan, pressing harder onto the body below him, letting go of the kid's hands to tangle them in his silky dark hair.

The other wasn't unaffected either. The kid instantly grabbed onto him like a lifeline, gripping Wilford's arms and neck to bring him even closer and sighing against him. It felt so nice, so complete, and Wilford wanted to stay there forever, keeping this kid with him and holding him just like this, his beautiful Soulmate covered in blood that he could taste on his tongue, reality miles away.

Wilford pulled back slightly, out of breath and panting, keeping his eyes glued to the kid, who was flushed and gasping for air, eyes bright. He was even more beautiful like this, Wilford thought. He was nothing but beautiful.

Then just as suddenly as everything started, it stopped. In Wilford's drunk hazy mess of a mind, he didn't understand that the kid was wiggling his way from underneath him, running away before he could say anything. I took the man a good minute after watching him run before he realized what was happening.

With a second the drunk feeling disappeared, being replaced with some sort of mix between confusion and fear. Confusion on what the fuck just happened. Fear that his Soulmate had just run away to tell the police that there was a dead body in an alleyway.

Holy shit. He had a Soulmate.

Well, Wilford knew that, but he hadn't thought about it in such a long time that be pretty much forgot about it. Half of his literal soul was in that kid-

Wait, I need to go after the kid-

And Wilford was on his feet, stumbling at first but quickly gaining his footing back. Now, Wilford was a very fast runner, but the kid had too much of a head start. By the time he got to the end of the alleyway, he was gone, disappearing into the night like a shadow. The man stayed there at the edge of the alleyway for a long time, looking off into the distance before he shook himself out of it. His words were burning at this point, but Wilford refused to look at them trying to bring his mind to other places.

Like the dead body he still had to clean up. 

Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck- why-

Those were the only words Bim could think of, his mind feeling like it just shut down on him. His arm burned, especially from where that man had gripped his wrists, and he could still feel the warmth of his lips from where he had been kissed-

Bim shook himself out of whatever drunk haze he had been in, pumping his legs faster. He thought about going to the police, but for whatever reason he couldn't force his feet to go that direction. The idea of the authorities taking away that man, taking away his Soulmate weighed to much on his mind-

The young adult suddenly stopped, the reality of it all hitting him square in the face.

My Soulmate is a murderer. 

He really was, and he just saw the victim, too. Bim tugged his shirt sleeve down, staring at the inflamed words, thinking about how good it had felt to be held by him, his hot hands in his hair, those lips on his, that odd slur of his words, the surprisingly attractive pink mustache-

Stop. He had to stop before he went running back to him. He couldn't just stand here in the middle of the street covered in blood, someone would see him, call the cops, something. He had to get back to his dorm room, get cleaned up, and preferably pretend none of this ever happened. That seemed like a sound idea to the college student, so he took the back way through some alleys to get back to campus, avoiding any main road and streets that he could. It took a lot longer than it would have otherwise, but Bim eventually made it to his dorm, thanking God that he kept his window unlocked, and jumped in, trying not to make noise. His roomate, Mark, could be a light sleeper at times or just stay up really late. He hoped the other was asleep, if not, he had a lot of explaining he didn't want to do. 

"Alright, alright," Bim mumbled to himself, stripping down into nothing but his underwear. After a brief once over, it was clear that the suit wasn't salvageable, and the college student unhappily placed it into a seperate bag so that he could take it to the dump tomorrow some time. Next he took a shower, trying to get the stench of blood and bubblegum and gunpowder. The last two were odd, and he decided it must have come from that man.

That they must have come from his Soulmate.

Bim tried not to think about it, drying himself off and getting a fresh pair of clothes to wear, jumping into his bed and wrapping himself in the covers.

It was about 10 seconds before he got the sudden urge to scream. The urge to run out into the night and search for his Soulmate, the one person he's been dying to meet his entire life. The urge to cry and wonder why the universe was as cruel to give half his soul to a killer. 

The student turned to his side, trying to get rid of the fuzzy feeling in his stomach, aching to get back into the man's arms, aching to be kissed by him again. It just wasn't fair. All he wanted was for someone to love him! For all Bim knew, the man would seek him out and kill him, just as he was about to do not 2 hours ago! 

Why universe, just why?

I can't worry about it now, he told himself. I have classes tomorrow. I have to work at that bar until midnight and cover someone's shift.

Bim turned over again, doing his best to settle the jumpiness of his heart and fell into an uneasy sleep. 

"There must be a reason why you're trying to find this kid."

Wilford glared at the man across from him, Felix, who just shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. The blond was one of the few people Wilford trusted in the line of business he had, but this was seriously making him rethink his choices. Wilford and Dark got a job to take out a target, Felix provided the information on the people without question, and once it was done he got a portion of the payment. He wasn't supposed to keep asking the questions like this, but Wilford knew Felix could read anyone as easily as a piece of paper.

Like the ones in his hand.

The one that could get him to his Soulmate.

At least, that was what Wilford hoped. He didn't have a name, so all he had to go on was a description, but Felix was good. He knew exactly how to find what he was looking for. 

"It's none of your business," Wilford snapped, eyes glancing quickly at the papers, hoping to catch a snippet of what was on it, but seeing nothing. Felix smirked at his reaction, as if he was a cat that had just caught the mouse.

"Let's see," he said nonchalantly, flipping through the papers. "He just turned 19 about a month ago, is majoring in entertainment and a side in agricultural studies (which is adorable) lived in an orphanage all his life because his parents got caught abusing him, doesn't have any social media accounts, works at a bar down on Red Street, and apparently is a target of yours?"

Wilford's eyes twitched, not sure how to react to this. The kid was only 19? Geez, that made him feel like an old perverted man, being over 7 years older than him. "It's none of your business," he repeated, setting out his hand expectantly for the papers.

But once again, Felix being Felix, just clicked his tongue. 

"Who in this world did this kid manage to piss off? Two and two aren't adding up here." He gave Wilford a pointed look. "Unless he's not a target. Unless he's something else."

"Why do you care so much?"

"I honestly don't," Felix informed, throwing the papers on the table between them. "I just know that you A: usually know who your targets are before you come here for my services, B: you don't take cases that involve clearly innocent people, and this kid doesn't look like he could hurt a fly if he tried, and C: Dark isn't here. You seriously didn't think I would question that?" 

The killer didn't know what to do. Felix had in in a corner. But those papers, they were right there, easily reachable. Wilford simply took them, so protest from the other man, just his hard stare.

"It... it's hard to explain," Wilford mumbled, standing up from his chair. He really didn't know if he should tell, or how much he should tell. What could you say? Yeah, this kid just happens to be my Soulmate and I don't know if I'm gonna kill him or wrap him up in a blanket and keep him forever. Yeah know, regular everyday things.

Felix stared at him for a few moment longer, like he could read all of his secrets just from his face alone. "Fine," he finally said, shrugging and flinging his cigarette to some unknown part of the room. "Good luck on whatever you need this for."

Wilford only nodded, turning on his heel and walking out of the blond's little shop he had set up, breathing a sigh of relief once he was out of sight of the other man. He shoved the papers under his coat, taking the long way back to his apartment to avoid anyone he might know. He didn't want to deal with them right now.

The man unlocked his door, stepping in his shitty excuse of a home and slamming the door shut. At this point, Wilford couldn't help himself, and he brought out the papers, looking through them himself. What Felix said was true, then, everything from living in an orphanage most of his life and being abused by his parents as a kid. It made his heart hurt a little, but he shoved down the feeling. For all he knew, this kid was going to report what he saw to the police and get him and Dark arrested, and that was the last thing he needed.

Wilford flipped back to the front, freezing in place.

Right there, in big, bold letters that he had somehow missed before, was a name. The name of his Soulmate.

"Bim Trimmer," Wilford said slowly, letting the syllables roll of his tongue. Bim Trimmer. Bim Trimmer. Bim Trimmer.

There was a picture of the kid as well, in black in white, but still a picture. He was smiling shyly, eyes unsure and posture slouched a little bit. According to the paper, it was is senior picture from one year ago, and Wilford couldn't help but feel entranced. He traced Bim's face with his fingers, imagining what it would feel like in real life, how soft his hair was, smooth skin under his fingertips-

Wilford shook his head harshly, setting down the papers. He had to get his head together. He briefly thought of the promise he made to himself all those years ago, how he would kill his Soulmate himself so that he would never be held down by them. 

Maybe now was the time to make good on that promise.

The man went over to his bedside, grabbing his prized knife, the blade sharp and long. Wilford could see his reflection in the blade, seeing a much different man that he did a week ago. A week ago, he would not have hesitated on killing his Soulmate. Now he he didn't know. 

"Well," he said to himself. "I should at least go to the address." The papers said that he lived in a college dorm, so it shouldn't be too hard to break in. He should be able to kill the kid there.

Wilford hummed to himself, agreeing on the plan that he made up, and walked out of his apartment.

God above, what the Hell has happened to me?

Bim was struggling. There was no better way to put it. He could barely keep his eyes open, his limbs were functioning as well as a newborn baby's, and he's pretty sure he just called his boss at the Blue Rose Bar, Mr. Trent a women. It wasn't like the man was offended or anything, but it embarrassed Bim to no extent. His cheeks flushed pink whenever he thought back to the moment.

It didn't help that the bar was dark and filled with soft music in the background. This wasn't one of those hole in the wall dump bars that you found on shady streets, Mr. Trent made sure this place had a good reputation a for families and singles alike. There was actually quite nice food here, and the pay for a nice bartender was good, so Bim couldn't complain. 

It was only an hour into his shift the first time he fell asleep standing up. The only thing that woke him up was a customer shaking his shoulder, and even then the college student never fully woke up.

It was the third time it happened that Mr. Trent did something. He took Bim to the side, and he couldn't help but feel anxiety for what he would say. The owner was a nice guy, but Bim has seen him fire those that slacked off on the job without hesitation. 

"Something's wrong," Mr. Trent said to him bluntly, and Bim flushed red, hunching his shoulders. 

"I-I'm sorry sir I didn't sleep well last night," Bim told the man sheepishly, giving a weak smile, only to be met by his intense gaze. Bim swallowed, trying not to show he was nervous.

"I can see that. But there's something else, isn't there? Something else bothering you."

Well damn. Was Bim that easy to read, or was Mr. Trent a low level mind reader or somethin? Either one was possible, to be honest.

"Well I- uh- it's a weird- I don't think-" Bim started, but Mr. Trent cut him off.

"Don't worry, kid. I've had some things I've had to work out myself. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. In fact, I was going to tell you that you can head back to your dorm or apartment or wherever you live; you need to sleep before you hurt yourself," Mr. Trent said matter of factly, like it was normal for him to let an employee go home just to sleep. 

"Wait- are you sure-? Who's going to-"

"I'll cover the bar, Bim, no need to worry. I just need you to go home and sleep, okay?" he put a hand on Bim's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "Alright?"

Bim nodded slowly. "Alright."

Mr. Trent as nodded as well, telling the college student to have a nice night before heading to the bar himself to deal with customers. Bim stood there for a few moments, not sure how to react, before finally moving himself. He put away his nametag and apron, exiting the bar through the back door and into the cool night. It felt really nice outside, and Bim took his time to get back to his dorm room. It probably wasn't even 10 yet, but sleep was calling him like an unignorable song, each step bringing him closer and closer to the unconscious bliss. 

When he finally made it to his dorm, it took a good five minutes for him to open the door, and when he entered, found the room empty. Mark must have been out with some friends or something. Whatever.

Bim stumbled into his room, not even bothering to turn on the lights, plopping back first onto his bed with no grace whatsoever. Within 30 seconds of laying there, Bim's slipped into unconsciousness, sleep covering him like a blanket. He didn't notice the movement coming from in his closet.

It was easy enough to break into college dorms. The kid's window wasn't even locked, so he didn't have to break it or anything. He wasn't in there yet, so it gave Wilford time to really think about this whole thing, which is something he rarely did. Dark did all the thinking, not him.

But something like killing your Soulmate required a lot of thinking, apparently. 

God, why couldn't anything just be simple? It was so simple when it was Dark running everything, coming up with a plan, making sure everything goes right. Wilford was just the muscle that executed it.

Wilford twirled the knife in his hand, watching it reflect the light in the room. Two weeks ago he wouldn't have even hesitated to take anyone out, even his Soulmate, but now this kid was making him soft. And they literally just met! How is it that a kid with pretty eyes and warm skin made him melt with nothing but a damn kiss? It was driving Wilford insane trying to figure it out.

The man took a look around the small room, seeing the various paper and textbooks strewn about the place. It didn't feel messy, just a clustered chaos that only the owner of said chaos could understand. There were no pictures of, well, anything on the walls like Wilford was used to seeing in a college dorm. Usually there was at least a poster for some band... but there was nothing. It also seemed odd that there seemed to be no technology whatsoever, in fact the only electronic he could recall the kid having was that phone, and even then it looked beat up and cracked to the high heavens.

Wilford ran his fingers over the quilted bed comforter, feeling how thick and soft it was. It must have been handmade or something, no regular quilt felt like that. 

There were stars all over the quilt, stitched in a beautiful pattern, and the man found that if he stepped back that the stars spelt out Bim. As in, he would be written in the stars. It felt poetic, in a way. 

The telltale movement of a doorknob came to Wilford's ears, and he froze for a brief second, caught off guard. According to the papers Felix gave him, the kid shouldn't be back until much later, and it couldn't be the other kid in the dorm, He watched that one walk out himself, ready for a night of drinking it looked like.

Wilford finally moved, darting into the small closet and closing it behind him. The clothes made it quite uncomfortable, but he made it work, listening to the sounds of the doorknob jiggling for several minutes. The man was beginning to think that someone was trying to break in when it finally opened, someone sighing in relief. A few moments later, the kid, Bim, stumbled into the room. Even from here Wilford could see the years worth of black circles under his eyes, just barely keeping himself standing long enough to fall onto his bed and promptly crash into sleep. Less than a minute after that, he began snoring, and Wilford couldn't help but stare.

He was right there. So helpless. Nothing to stop him from getting out of this closet, take his knife, and plunge it into the kids neck. Nothing.

The knife in his back pocket was feeling heavier than it did a minute ago, and Wilford gently pried the doors of the closet open, stepping out of it and shuffled towards the bed, taking out the knife. He stopped right beside the bed, looking down at the kid. He looked so peaceful, face relaxed and free from whatever life had to offer him. He hadn't even bothered to take off the suit he was wearing or even his glasses, which were hanging off his nose at an odd angle.

He could do it, right now. There would be no struggling. There would be no pain. He would go back to life as normal before his Soulmate had ever come along, pretend he never existed in the first place. Dark would never know.

Wilford slowly raised the knife, the blade flashing with light reflecting on it, freezing when the kid shifted slightly, sighing contently, moving his arm right by his face.

What did his words look like, Wilford wondered. What color? How big?

It didn't matter, he kept telling himself. It doesn't matter. 

Just bring the knife down. Just kill him.

Wilford grinded his teeth, raising the knife higher and-

He couldn't, God dammit he couldn't. 

The man lowered the knife, letting it drop to the ground with a muffled thud and falling to his knees. The kid didn't seem to hear it at all, but his head turned towards Wilford, allowing him to see every freckle and dip of the skin, the light pink color his lips, his fluffy black hair-

God he was helpless, wasn't he?

Feeling like he couldn't go back now, Wilford gingerly took off the kid's glasses and placed them on the table next to him. Bim sighed again snuggling on himself into a little ball, and Wilford's heart just melted into a puddle of goo. How could he ever think about ever hurting the kid? He's already been through enough as it is, he didn't need to just kill him.

And he's your Soulmate.

The man's eyes trailed back down to the kid's arm, once again wondering what his words looked like. It wouldn't hurt if he took just a peak, right? 

Carefully, still worried the Bim could wake up any moment, Wilford lifted his arm. When he got no protest from the other, he started rolling up his sleeve, all the way up to his elbow, seeing the words tattooed into his Soulmate's skin.

It was not at all what he was expecting.

I mean sure, he knew what his own handwriting looked like, and he knew what the words would be, but he honestly didn't expect them to look so... inflamed, like they were infected or something. That couldn't be normal, right?

Wilford lifted his own sleeve to see his words, seeing how different they were from the kid's.

His was simple and gold. The kid's was red and bloody looking.

His took up only a few inches. The kid's went all the way up to his elbow.

He forgot about his words most of the time. There was no way that the kid's didn't hurt all the time.

It felt appropriate, somehow. Bim's presence in his life was just another thing to worry about, his presence in Bim's life, however, could very much kill him. 

Wilford sighed, heart conflicted with so many things that he didn't know where to start. He rolled Bim's sleeve back down, taking the quilt and tucking him in around it. The kid seemed to like that, body rolling into an even smaller ball. He must like to be warm or something.

The man made sure that all traces of himself were gone from the room, his knife, closing the closet door, everything, before slipping out the window and into the night.

Bim had a much better day after that night of sleep. 

Sure, he found it weird that his glasses were off when he never remembered taking them off, and that he was under his quilt when he was positive he just fell asleep on top of the covers, but hey, he was tired last night that he could have done those things in a sleepy haze.

But now that his mind was more clear and less sleep deprived, he couldn't stop thinking. About his Soulmate, more specifically. Should he tell someone, or keep it him himself? He thought about Mark, someone he trusted, but the three times he got up the courage to do it, he chickened out. Bim was just too afraid of what Mark would say to something like this. Would he encourage Bim to go after him and try to figure out who he was and get some answers out of him? Or would he tell him to call the police and get him to the nearest insane asylum? The college student didn't know.

And the other thing about his Soulmate, about how he was a killer. It never left Bim's mind, always haunting him wherever he went, terrified that whenever he passed by an alley that the man would jump out and stab him. And with each day his paranoia only grew, fearful that this was the day that his Soulmate decided to kill him.

He was honestly surprised he never ran into him on a regular day. The college campus and town around it weren't that big, and pretty much everyone had been to the bar he worked at at one point or another, even the shadiest of people, as long as they weren't trouble, went there. 

Bim looked down at his dresser, sure he was going crazy at this point. When he had went to sleep last night, he had been positive that his dresser had been a mess of papers, notes and drawings from the day before, and he promised to himself that he would clean it all up tomorrow. Yet, right in front of him was the cleanest his dresser had ever been in his time at college. Sure, Bim wasn't a very messy person, but he never went as far as to freaking polish his workplace, and the dresser was so shiny that you could see your reflection in it! Did Mark do it or something?

That seemed unlikely. Mark always asked to enter anyone's personal space before he actually did, and this wasn't something the other was likely to do anyway. Mark was probably  the messiest person Bim knew, so who did this?

The college student rubbed his eyes, sighing. His life had just turned into one giant clusterfuck that he didn't know how to control anymore. Maybe he did it when he was half asleep or something, who knew. His dresser was clean, and that was good. Perhaps it was the cleaning fairies or something, but it didn't really matter.

"Thank you, whatever did this," Bim said to himself, turning around and walking out of his room.

He didn't see the pair of eyes looking in, smiling at the thanks.

Now this was getting pathetic. Even Wilford had to admit that to himself at this point.

He was basically following the kid around like a lost puppy (stalking is the more appropriate term, but whatever) watching him do his everyday life. Wilford now knew where Bim took his classes, what room number, his favorite coffee shop that he goes to every morning, what shift he had at his work, pretty much everything except personal details that he's prefer to hear from Bim himself-

Shit the bed. He was becoming attached to this kid, helping him out on little things like cleaning his room or whatever, loving the confusion on his face when he realized something was out of place from before, then thanking the weird spirits that helped him before moving on like it never happened.

But also... Wilford could see his paranoia, his fear. The way he looked over his shoulder whenever he passed an alleyway, how he sped up his walking pace at night without thinking about it, everything. It was like he was waiting for something to jump out and attack him.

Or, more specifically, someone. 

Wilford. 

The man knew Bim was paranoid because of him, and he tried to convince himself that wasn't a bad thing. He was going to kill the kid at one point, might as well have some fun, right? 

That very thought made him sick to his stomach.

But he had to do it, the longer he waited, the more hesitant he became. Dark was already noticing something different about him, not being around as much and not taking up many jobs in the past few weeks. How do you explain to someone that literally doesn't care about anyone that he found his Soulmate and couldn't kill him no matter how much he tried? The other man would probably just do it himself without ever telling Wilford, the deed being done without him ever raising a finger. Some days, that sounded nice. Other days, it sounded like torture. 

Most of the time was torture, but not because he told Dark. No, it was the exact opposite. Dark was a very smart person, and sooner or later, he would find out without ever asking Wilford. It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when. And something told the man that Dark wouldn't wait much longer for him to tell.

He had to kill the kid before Dark did. It was the only way he was going to find peace with himself. He made that promise all that time ago, that he would kill his Soulmate if he ever found them, and now it was time he lived up to it.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Wilford stared at the window that entered the kid's room. He was going to do it, kill him. He didn't bring him knife with him this time; now he had his trusty gun that would make the death quick and painless. The kid wouldn't feel a thing.

That's what he kept telling himself.

Kill the kid, things go back to normal. Kill the kid, things go back to normal, was the phrase he constantly said in his mind as he opened the window, slipping into the room without a problem. There was nothing different around him that he hadn't seen before, and he knew Bim wouldn't be back for another hour or more. In hindsight, he should have come here later. An hour gave him too much time to think, too much time to rethink everything. He'd rather do it now and get it over with.

Wilford unhooked the gun from his belt, bringing in in front of him to study the surface, the freshly polished barrel, the wooden handle. It was his prized possession, the thing he was most proud of owning. All of his best and quickest kills were with this very gun, when he wanted something done quickly and without struggle. Sure, it made a rather loud noise, but he could deal with that. He'll be out of here when someone comes to check the noise.

They'll find the dead body, but not him. They never found Wilford.

The man gripped the handle with fierce determination, telling himself that this would be the time, that this would be when he kills the kid. It had to be.

Wilford looked around him one last time, sighing before taking his place in the kid's closet. 

"I'm waiting for you, Bim." 

Bim yawned loudly, stumbling into his dorm room with minimal grace. It was past 11 o'clock, and he had early classes tomorrow, so that would be fun. He walked into his room, planning on just falling into bed like he had many times before, when something caught his eye.

The college student furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, seeing that his closet door was partially open. It was an odd detail to notice, sure, but he specifically remembers always shutting the doors. He's had a stupid fear of monsters coming out of the closet for years, even before he went to the orphanage, so it was weird that it was open.

Not thinking much of it, Bim went closer to the closet, bringing up his arms to close it.

He didn't expect to become nose to nose with another person, a gun pointed right at his head.

Bim's eyes widened, falling back in surprise and in fear, scrambling back as far and as fast as he could, panicking when the person came from in his closet, revealing themselves as-

His Soulmate.

The student froze, watching as the man too two easy steps before he was towering over Bim, the barrel of the gun mere inches from his face. Bim began hyperventilating, tears running down his face. He wanted to look away so bad, to not see his Soulmate's when he pull the trigger. And to think he finally thought that his Soulmate wouldn't come to kill him like he first predicted. 

Despite his best efforts, Bim studied everything on his Soulmate's appearance in a few seconds, every detail going into overdrive. He didn't really notice the color of his eyes before, but now the student could very clearly see every shade of brown in those eyes, how they melted together like chocolate. He noticed the light beard that ran up his cheeks and over his defined jawline, just how the odd pink mustache curled, how damn tall he actually was, everything. 

He also saw the conflicted look in those brown eyes, along with the unmistakable look of frustration and determination. He loaded the bullet into it's chamber, and Bim started sobbing, curling into a small ball. He still couldn't look away from him, some invisible force keeping his eyes glued to the other.

For one long, terrible minute, nothing happened. Everytime the man tensed, ready to pull the trigger, he stopped at the last moment, only for it to start all over again. The gun was trembling now, no longer in a clear and steady line like before. 

Finally, the man growled, mumbling, "fuck it," revealing that odd slur Bim remembered from before. He threw the gun somewhere across the room, the impact making a a loud thump. Before Bim could process it, the man grabbed his shoulders with strong hands, lifting him up easily as you would a piece of paper. Bim gasped, stunned as the man pushed him against the nearest wall, taking away almost all of his breath. The student was finally able to squeeze his eyes shut, sure that this man was going to either beat him to death or suffocate him, and despite the desire to look at him, Bim refused to look the other in the eye as he did that. He just couldn't.

You can imagine his surprise when instead of hands punching him or wrapping around his neck, they slipped around his waist and neck, and a pair of hot lips pressing hard into his own. Bim's eyes flew open in shock, hands coming to grip the man's shoulders like it was a lifeline.

The man that had just tried to kill him was now kissing him like his very life depended on it. 

It was just like he remembered it from the alley way; the bubblegum and gunpowder smell, the warmth surrounding him like a vice, strong arms circling him like a cage, keeping him in place. Bim practically melted in the man's hold, kissing back before his brain could process what he was doing. His hands went from the man's shoulders to his neck, running his fingers through the hairs at the nape. The man moaned at that, pressing Bim harder against the wall with his body and tilting his head to the side, kissing him deeper.

It felt so nice, the warmth, the words on his arm tingling lightly, everything. But Bim was very quickly running out of air, and he squeaked as he pulled himself away, gasping. The man didn't even miss a beat, going down to his neck and kissing him there, over and over again, up and down, covering every inch of his skin with kisses. They weren't lustful like the kiss was, just more simple to tell Bim that he was there.

Bim slowly gathered his breath again, running his fingers over the man's scalp gently. He was still pressing against him, keeping the student as close as possible, like he would disappear if he let go. Bim couldn't say he disliked it.

Cupping the man's face, Bim coaxed his head from his neck, making him look Bim in the eye. They were so close now, their noses just barely brushing each other, breath mingling together. He was even more beautiful up close, every angle and hair present to the student's eyes. He could have stayed like that forever, forget that this man ever tried to kill him. Forget that this man, his Soulmate, was a killer.

Would he really be able to, though?

"What's your name?"

The man blinked at that, like he just realized that he never told the other his name. There was a moment of hesitation in his eyes, but it quickly went away. "Wilford," the man whispered. "My name is Wilford."

Bim didn't even bother telling the man, Wilford, what his name was, feeling that he already knew. Instead he brought his cupped face forward, kissing him much slower than their first one. It wasn't any less amazing however, Bim rubbing his fingers on Wilford's scruff, feeling every inch of hair, skin, and warmth beneath his fingertips. The other was doing it as well, one hand slipping under his suit and against his lower back, just feeling there. 

They must have stayed there for an hour, kissing each other over and over again, feeling high and drunk all at the same time, when Bim yawned, long and slow. What time was it? It didn't seem that late anymore, but his body begged to differ. Despite the rush of energy and adrenaline he felt kissing his Soulmate, it was quickly running dry.

Wilford seemed to understand, moving away from the wall, no longer pressing Bim against it. He helped the college student take off his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought, along with his pants and shoes. Bim did the same to Wilford, unclipping his suspenders before he was stopped by the other.

"I'm sorry, darling," he said gently, trying to pry the objects away from Bim. "But I really must go-"

Bim whined, looking up at Wilford with the biggest puppy eyes he could manage. "Please? Just for tonight?"

The man's mind was changed within a millisecond of looking at Bim, and he let the student take off the rest of his clothes, them falling down to join Bim's. Before they moved, Wilford took Bim's wrist, the one with his words on it, and softly ran his fingers over them. The student became a little self conscious about them, acutely aware of every nerve reacting to the man's touch. What would he think of them? Did he think they were ugly? 

"Do they hurt?" Wilford asked, still touching his words.

"They... most of the time. Not when you touch them, though," Bim replied, and he surprised himself on how true that was. Ever since he's had them, his words have haunted him, burned him every moment of his life. But with Wilford around, they didn't at all. 

Now curious for himself, Bim took Wilford's wrist, turning it over. There, he saw the others words: Please, I don't want to die! written in gold, the handwriting unmistakably his own. If there was any doubt in the student's mind, it evaporated now. 

This was his Soulmate. The person he waited his entire life to meet.

Wilford smiled at him, leading them both over to the bed. Once they were beside it, Bim took off the quilt and covers, climbing in with the man right behind him. Once the covers were back over them, Wilford immediately brought the other closer, wrapping an arm protectively around his waist. Bim did the same, snuggling into Wilford's chest and tangling their legs together, sighing in content. He never thought someone could be so warm, especially since Bim never felt like he could be warm in his bed. It didn't matter how many blankets he seemed to put on, he was never warm. Wilford changed that almost instantly, his body heat wrapping around Bim within seconds.

"I'm sorry."

Bim looked up at Wilford, almost asleep when he said that. "For what?"

"For wanting to hurt you."

He looked so distant when he said that, off in some sort of memory. "I never wanted a Soulmate. I never thought I'd ever have one to be honest," Wilford chuckled, the vibrations, going through his chest. Bim simply hummed, tracing some imaginary pattern on the others skin, thinking.

"Ever since I found out what Soulmate's were I wanted on," Bim admitted. "I wanted someone... someone that would love me for everything that I am, and even for everything I am not. I'm sorry I put that burden on you," he whispered, hiding his face. It felt like he was a burden on everyone. 

Bim's chin was tilted up, looking Wilford in the eye. "Never say that again, got it? You are no one's burden, and you certainly aren't mine. I should have been more willing to meet you, more willing to try. I see that now, and now I keep imagining some future with you," he smiled this time, a happy expression all over his face. "And I've never been happier."

The student couldn't help but smile too, reaching up to kiss the other man, too much happiness and teeth to really be considered a kiss. But neither of them cared. At this moment, they were happy in the presence of each other, finally finding their other half, their Soulmate.

They both settled down, tiredness now threatening to take a hold of both of them very soon. Just before Bim submitted to the call of sleep, he whispered,

"I love you, Wilford." 

Without missing a beat, Wilford said,

"I love you too, Bim."

And so they fell asleep in each others arms, two souls reunited into one. From above the universe smiled, knowing that once again it had made the right choice, and blessed the two with happiness.

There would he hard times ahead, but they would forever had each other. No more loneliness. No more sadness. Just love for one another.

The End.