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It started off as an innocent conversation with Shi (one of your best friends) in your 8th grade science class. Neither of you were paying attention (to be fair, you both had As and you ALWAYS slacked off in that class), and were talking about something incredibly irrelevant to the day’s lesson when she asked about the name on your wrist.
You knew everyone was born with a name on his or her wrist. Supposedly, this was the name of your soul mate, but you were skeptical about that. You knew your parents had each other’s name and were as happy as ever, but you’ve seen plenty of relationships fail even when their wrists matched, and plenty of others succeed when the wrists didn’t. You didn’t care if you ultimately fell for the faceless name you had or not. You just wanted to find someone who made you happy.
You laugh and then roll up your sleeve to reveal the name that’s been there all of your life. “Benedict Cumberbatch? It’s kind of a stupid name,” you say. “What’s yours?” “Robbert van der Corput? IDK. It’s an odd name too,” she responds right before you start laughing and realizing that, out of everyone you were friends with, the two of you would have the oddest names that nobody’s ever heard of. It was especially funny since you lived in scenic middle of nowhere and everyone you knew had a common name like “Eric” or “Sarah” and, if you didn’t know who your person was, you had a friend that did. Even out of your two other close female friends, one had the name of a close friend of yours who has had a crush on her for years, and the other had the name of a friend of yours that the two of you met at the local theater and was absolutely perfect for her (well, he would be once he actually got the courage to ask her out). Your laughter elicits a glare from your teacher, who asks if you completed the day’s assignment. Regaining your breath, you show her the filled out worksheet, saying that you finished it while she was still going over the instructions and, after she checks your answers against the key (you knew they were all correct; science has always been your strong suit and your passion), lets you and Shi resume your conversation, shifting to a song you heard on the radio recently by a popular boy band you two love.
Time passes, and you start getting a mentality that you won’t let this name dictate who you fall for, who you date, etc. You go through a phase where you cover it up with those thick rubber bracelets that stores like Hot Topic sell, and, by the time you get to high school, you’re in the routine of covering it up with makeup before going to school. By covering it up, you can pretend you’re one of the rare few who wasn’t born with a name. That way, people wouldn’t be asking about who you had and you wouldn’t have to keep explaining that you didn’t have the slightest clue and, frankly, didn’t care that much to deliberately go out and find them. If they were really your soul mate, you said, then somehow they’d find their way into your life. Plus, you learned that a lot of doctors covered theirs up when at work and, since that had been your dream for as long as you remembered, you figured that you should get into the habit now.
By the time you’re ending your senior year in high school, everyone you’re friends with have moved on from wondering who your names belong to. Two of your close friends (who had each other’s names on their wrists) have been happily dating for almost 4 years (everyone was relieved when he finally asked her out), and your other close friend has focused more on her recently made college decision than on your mutual theater friend. As for you and Shi, neither of you have really thought about your names since your conversation 4 years ago. You’re looking forward to going to your dream school in Washington, DC, and she’s excited to go to one near Chicago. Somehow the conversation shifts to TV shows, and she begins telling you about a series she found on Netflix that’s based on Sherlock Holmes. You laugh and make a joke about how, if you watched it, you might get the motivation to finally read all of the original short stories (something you said you’d do every summer since 8th grade and have yet to actually accomplish).
You convince your chemistry teacher that it is a good idea to put on the first episode of the show to watch in class (you had finished everything on the curriculum weeks ago and you claimed it was “educational” since you recently finished a forensic chemistry unit), and, as you and Shi begin watching, you instantly fall in love with the adaptation. You recognize one of the actors from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (one of your favorite movies and yet another book you’ve been meaning to read for years), and you find yourself semi-smitten with the one who plays Sherlock. There was something about him that you were drawn to, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it the cheekbones? Maybe, but there was something else. It was probably the height and eyes, you thought to yourself. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always been drawn to men that are significantly taller than you (which wasn’t terribly hard, considering that you’re barely (y/height) on a good day) and one of the first things you notice about anyone is their eyes.
The bell signaling the end of the class period rings about 20 minutes before the episode is over, and, because your chemistry teacher has a study hall the next period and likes you and Shi, she lets you stay and finish the episode after calling your next period teacher and says that you’re finishing a research project (which is not entirely a lie). You begin packing your bag back up as the credits roll until Shi comments that one of the names of the actors seems familiar. She asks your teacher to rewind a couple of seconds and then pauses as the name of the actor who plays Sherlock fills the screen. Shi asks you to turn around and see if the name rings a bell to you. You tell her that you doubt it would, since all of the actors are British and the only one you recognized was Martin Freeman. But, still, you take a glance and you agree that something seems familiar about that name. “It’s a ridiculous name,” you comment before you realize that you do actually recognize it. Apparently, you get a really odd look on your face before you sprint over to one of the sinks at a lab bench and begin scrubbing at your wrist. Your chemistry teacher asks what you’re doing, and you comment that you want to see your name. Still fairly puzzled, she says that you’ve never had a name on your wrist and you simply reply, “I lied. Didn’t feel like explaining that I wasn’t as sold on the idea of this being your soul mate every time someone asked who he was. It was easier to just say I didn’t have one.”
Finally, the last of the makeup comes off of your wrist and, as you dry yourself off, you keep glancing between the screen and the permanently engraved letters. “Oh. My. God.” you say to anyone who is listening. Shi and your teacher both come over, and, lo and behold, the names perfectly match. “That doesn’t mean it’s HIM though. It could be anyone with that name” you remark to break the silence. “Yeah, but (y/n), how many people do you actually expect to have that name? It’s not exactly a common combination” Shi comments. “My bet is that it’s him.” “So what are you going to do now?” your chemistry teacher comments. “I honestly have no idea. I’ve always said that, if it’s really meant to be, then it’ll happen. But the fact that he’s famous and in a completely different continent kinda throws a wrench in that idea” you respond with a slight chuckle.
Still in shock, you finish packing up your things just as the bell rings and you head to your final class. The rest of the day goes by quickly. Your close friends notice your wrist, and, after recounting the afternoon’s adventure, find yourself asking the same question again: what am I going to do now? As you walk home after your class lets out, you head home and figure that, if anyone would be able to help, it’d be your mom. As you wait for her to get home from work, you get started on your homework for the evening. “If I knew what the steps were, this process would be a lot easier,” you think to yourself as you work on a statistics regression for a presentation. As you begin to return your textbook to your backpack, you mom walks in. You greet her at the door, and, as you do every day, ask her how her day was. She comments about some project she has at work and then asks if anything eventful has happened to you at school. You talk about your stats project, and some drama happening between two girls that you keep overhearing in the hallways. “Oh, I also think Imayhavefiguredoutwhomynamebelongsto” you quickly say (you have a habit of speed talking when you’re nervous). She inquires as to whom, and you slide your laptop over before quickly typing his name into Google. “Are you sure?” she says as she skims over his Wikipedia page. “He’s almost 20 years older than you. It could be anyone with this name.” “I know,” you respond, “but who else would have this name? Neither part is common as it is, and how likely am I to find another person with that combination?” Your mom sighs. “Ok. I think you may be right. Have you thought about what you want to do about this yet?”
“I have absolutely no idea if there’s anything I can do at this point. It’s not like I could exactly fly over to London tomorrow, knock on his door with a fruit basket and say ‘Hi you don’t have a clue who I am, but I have your name permanently marked onto my wrist, so apparently we’re soul mates’ and expect that to end well. I think I’m just going to focus on finishing up the school year and starting college before I figure out what my next step is. You know where I’ve stood on the names since the beginning, and I’m not sacrificing my education for the slim chance that he’s my ‘one true love,’” you say, eliciting a smile that radiates pride from your mom before taking all of you school stuff up to your room to clear the table off for dinner.