Chapter Text
Roman was a sucker for love at heart. He’d binge romcoms almost religiously, write enchanting poetry addressed to a nonexistent lover, and perhaps most embarrassingly, practice kissing with his pillows whenever he couldn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t get enough of everyone’s love stories, except, that is, for his own.
In Roman’s world, everyone had a soulmate and everyone was born with the first thing they would say to them when they first meet them printed across their left forearm. Most people that Roman met had something very intriguing on their arm, or at the very least something nice. Meanwhile, Roman was gifted with eight, terrible tattooed words he was forced to look every time he dared to look down at his bare arm; “You are about as intelligent as an eggplant.”
He had of course memorized the words very early on in his life, but that didn’t stop him from wondering what he could possibly do that would be so stupid to cause his soulmate to say such a thing to him. Roman tried not to be bothered by it most of the time, instead focusing on everyone else’s own soulmate’s words. And whenever asked what were his own, he’d hide them behind his sleeve and laugh, saying it didn’t matter and proceed to ask them more about who they thought their soulmate was.
Needless to say, the dent the words made on his life remained there. Roman avoided eggplants at all costs, and he kept his guard up with a false ego that took years to perfect while his self-esteem dwindled. He would remind himself his soulmate probably only meant it as a joke or something, but there was always the possibility that they were being serious and they’d continue to hate him despite them being destined partners. Whatever. Once he met his soulmate, the words would disappear as soon as they were exchanged, so even if they did turn out bad, at least he wouldn’t have to read those nasty words ever again.
It was an autumn day when Roman was falling asleep in Geometry class and his best friend, Virgil, slapped his arm in attempt to wake him. Roman woke up with a snort and Virgil rolled his eyes. Virgil was nearly Roman’s polar opposite, but they’d been close ever since they were kids regardless. Virgil had already found his own soulmate, another boy named Patton who was the bright, sunshiny day to Virgil’s dark and stormy night.
Virgil’s story was a depressing one, really, but Roman was glad it found a happy ending. His friend wore the words “You make me want to die.” most of his life, which reasonably messed him up when he was a kid. Then one day at a café, Virgil bumped into Patton, who immediately said the cursed words on Virgil’s arms. According to Patton, he was supposed to finish the sentence with “of laughter” as if to say Virgil bumping into him was no big deal, but Virgil burst into tears too fast for him to. Later, when everything was explained, Patton apologized, and Virgil realized that his soulmate didn’t hate him after all.
“Wha-?” Roman groaned, blinking his eyes open as Virgil poked at him again.
“Get up, dude. Class is over and Mrs. Moore says she wants to talk with you,” Virgil said. Roman nodded slowly and said his goodbyes before gathering his things and walking up to their teacher.
“Roman,” Mrs. Moore greeted. “I hope you enjoyed your slumber during today’s lesson.”
Roman laughed sheepishly. “Yeah... I’m truly sorry about that.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be when you look at your grade for my class,” Mrs. Moore said. “Not only are you failing, but you’re making the worst grade out of all of my students.”
“And what grade would that be, ma’am?”
“49,” Mrs. Moore answered, then folded her hands with frustration. “Roman, I know you are capable of passing my class if you’d only put the effort in. It’s beginning to be a real problem.”
Roman nodded, already bored from hearing the speech for the twentieth time. “What’re you gonna do about it? Give me a tutor?” Roman laughed at his own joke, but Mrs. Moore hushed him quickly.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I was planning to do, Roman,” she said. “His name is Logan Sanders and you’ll be meeting with him every Tuesday and Thursday.”
Roman was agape, and started sputtering out arguments. “But- but what about the musical?! Auditions will be in only a few weeks! And how do I know if this Logan guy is even qualified to teach me, huh?” Roman cried.
“Then I expect you to get your grade up fast,” Mrs. Moore said. “And as for whether or not Logan is qualified to be your tutor, he is the student with the best grade out of all of my students.”
“Oh, yeah? What grade is that?” Roman asked.
“100. And with all the extra credit he does, it really should be a 106. He very rarely makes mistakes in my class, Roman, and I’m sure he’ll be a great tutor because of it.”
Roman huffed and grumbled some words of agreement as he left the classroom, but not before Mrs. Moore could call to him, “And good luck with your audition!”
-
The library was completely empty aside from one short guy with light brown hair, chewing on an apple and flipping through a Calculus textbook while occasionally adjusting his thick glasses. He was a nerd in all aspects, and Roman knew he was Logan. He sneered, but begrudgingly walked over to the table Logan was waiting at.
“Hello,” Roman greeted with a strained smile, but Logan didn’t even look up from his book. Roman frowned and started to pull up a chair next to his tutor when Logan snapped and pointed to the chair across for him. There was a worksheet of problems right in front of the chair, and Roman sighed angrily as he sat in it and started to work.
For a moment Roman actually began to question whether this guy was Logan or not, with him reading a higher-level math class textbook and all, but Roman shut his mouth and did his work. It had to be Logan. He was the only guy waiting around here, and he already had Geometry problems waiting around for him.
By the time Roman had finished the worksheet, Logan had handed him a different sheet of problems, these more difficult than the last. Roman grumbled, but started on them anyways, with much less concentration than before. Now he was sneaking glances at Logan and his blue tie and dark blue polo shirt. Who did he think he was anyways?
He probably had really rich parents or something who gave him really smart tutors when he was younger. Maybe he went to some classy private school but was dumped here somehow. Maybe he was a stuck-up gifted student that was able to go to college by the time he was in middle school, but was interested in seeing how the dumber half lived. He was so arrogant just because he was smarter than everyone else and probably was going to be the next Einstein.
Roman’s face flared with rage as he thought about the backstory he had created for this boy who hadn’t even talked to him yet, and soon he had convinced himself he already hated his new tutor and his Tuesdays and Thursdays would be ruined for forever. Eventually his writing had gotten so angry the lead from his pencil broke from pressing down so hard and he had to excuse himself to find a pencil sharpener.
Really, he was just thankful to get out of the sight of that smart-ass tutor of his. Knowing how Logan was and Roman’s-made-up-personality-for-him-that-was-still-totally-probably-accurate, Roman wouldn’t be able to see the day of auditioning for that year’s musical. Spite boiled up inside of Roman’s stomach, and he felt tempted to just stomp his way out of the library, but Logan would probably tattletale on him and Roman would just be in more trouble than he already was.
Roman found a sharpener and fixed up his pencil, and when he walked back to him and Logan’s table, the boy was looking at him with wide eyes. Roman was afraid that maybe he had grown a giant pimple from the way Logan was staring at him, but the tutor eventually adjusted his glasses and laughed.
“What? What’s so funny?!” Roman snapped, marching over to the table and slamming his pencil down on top of it. Logan’s laughter stifled with a small gasp and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a wide smile.
“You are about as intelligent as an eggplant.”
As soon as the words were said Logan went back to his fit of laughter, looking over Roman’s worksheet and all the problems that were marked wrong, but Roman remained frozen. Logan eventually noticed this and he looked up at Roman with a frown.
“Roman, are you okay?” he asked, and the boy only blinked in response. “I’m sorry if I insulted you, but I now see Mrs. Moore was not merely joking when she said you needed to acquire my help in your mathematical studies. However, I’m sure with a little work you’ll be back to passing in no time-“
Logan stopped when he felt himself being carried bridal style and his face immediately flushed when he realized it was Roman.
“What the- Roman put me back on a leveled surface this instant!” Logan cried, trying to push away to no avail. Then he took a look at Roman’s giggling, red face and he paused all of his movements to look at the boy curiously. “Roman, what is going on? This better not be an attempt to get out of studying-“
“We’re soulmates, Logan!” Roman interrupter with a breathy laugh, sighing with relief and happiness. It was Logan’s turn to freeze now, his eyes blown wide as he looked at Roman.
“What?”
“We’re soulmates!” Roman repeated, twirling Logan around until the two were dizzy. “Oh my gosh! To think I thought you were going to absolutely hate me, but you just think I suck at math!”
“I don’t think you suck at math. I know you suck at math,” Logan retorted. “And, again, this better not be an attempt to get out of your tutoring.”
“Check your arm, darling,” Roman said, and Logan frowned. Carefully, he rolled up his blue sweater sleeve, and nearly had a panic attack when he saw the word “Hello.” was no longer scrawled there in black, cursive ink. A feeling rose in Logan’s chest, which was very rare, and he felt... he felt. That was so weird, so unusual.
He looked back up at Roman, who was beaming down at him, and cracked a small grin at the sight. “I can hardly believe it,” he whispered. “Do you understand how difficult it is to have a soulmate who’s first words to them only consists of the common greeting ‘Hello’?”
Roman snorted and shrugged. “Sorry, my love,” he said sincerely. “But do you know how hard it is to know your soulmate thinks that you have as much intellect as an eggplant?” Logan smirked at this, and Roman let him down from his arms, but held his hands still.
“I haven’t ever walked in a five foot radius of an eggplant,” Roman added and Logan chuckled.
“We still need to get back to the tutoring session, Roman.”
“I know, I know, but first...” Roman said, taking Logan’s face softly between his two hands and kissed him gently. Logan smiled when he pulled back and tutted Roman playfully.
“Lesson number one,” Logan said, grabbing Roman’s face as he spoke. “This is how you kiss.” And then he pressed his lips against Roman’s roughly but affectionately at the same time, and Roman kissed back as he lifted Logan.
So his soulmate was smart, handsome, and great kisser? Perhaps Roman didn’t hate this Logan Sanders guy as much as he thought he would after all.