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Laurent doesn't believe in this soulmate atrocity. For all that films, mainstream media and romantic novels worship the bond between mated and to-be-mated pairs, it's nothing more than a money-making scheme.
A name on the wrist is a mere indication of good companionship, a sign of compatibility, not a guarantee of a bond that won't break till death does them apart — or whatever the blockbusters are calling it these days. Rare as they are, reports of mated pairs breaking the bond and calling it quits are not unheard of. Real or not, this entire soulmate ordeal is getting on Laurent's nerves. He can’t stand the pitying looks the old ladies on the subway throw his way on seeing his empty wrist, or stop Vanne’s friends from pitying ‘whichever soul is going to be bonded to the frigid bitch’.
Laurent is sure that he’ll slay the next person inquiring about his soulmate with his tongue.
‘Come on, you must have thought about your soulmate at least once. Don’t deny it,’ Auguste had said once, when the former had bonded to Helena.
Though Laurent had denied it at the time, much to the despair of his better judgement, when the weather was morose — or his day more so — Laurent had thought about the possibility of a soulmate: of what he’d look like, the tone of his voice, the feel of his touch, and the taste of his kiss.
Even if Laurent were to ever find his soulmate, he had not expected much out of him. If this soulmate thing were to have a shred of practicality to it, then Laurent would be bonded to someone who is well-read, intelligent and witty. Somebody who is intellectually on par with him and can spiritually challenge him. Someone who is kind and innocent. Someone he can feel safe with.
Laurent might not have expected much out of his soulmate, but he certainly doesn’t expect to be bonded to the University’s boxing champion, who — with his burly muscles and tattooed arms — had become popular as: Damen, the Barbarian.
Despite being in the same university, the two hadn’t spoken to each other. It happens one day in the examination hall of Akielon History. The moment the invigilator moves out of the room, Damen sneaks up behind Laurent and asks if he knew the answer to the eighth question on the paper. And that’s when the letters ‘Damianos’ bloom on the underside of Laurent's left wrist.
Laurent hisses audibly. He doesn’t answer Damen. Not then, not later.
Once he finishes the paper, he hands it over and without sparing a second glance at Damen, walks out.
This whole thing is a terrible mistake, Laurent’s sure. A man who probably hasn’t read a book in his life couldn’t be his soulmate. Laurent certainly couldn’t be bonded to a man who breaks more bones in the boxing ring than he scores in academics.
Laurent is certainly not bonded to a barbarian.
This surely was a mistake — an utter and obnoxious mistake. A cruel prank played by fate on him. It’s going to pass. The name on his wrist will fade over time and the joke will be over. It has to. So Laurent doesn’t call or write to Auguste to tell him that he has bonded.
Laurent hasn’t seen or spoken to Damen since that damned day, so it comes as a surprise to him when he sees Damen and his friend Nik waiting near the stairs that lead to his class. After a bout of pointed prompting and nudging from Nik, Damen comes forward, holding the tome of Akielon History like a shield in front of him, and asks whether Laurent can help him with retaking the exam. Laurent is prompted to say no, but the name ‘Laurent’ on Damen’s wrist catches his eye.
It’s not the soulmark baloney that prompts him to agree to help — nor is it Damen’s hopeful smile. It certainly isn’t.
For the next two weeks, Laurent meets Damen after all their classes as they bury themselves in lesson after lesson of Akielon history. Surprisingly, Damen has a sharp mind when it comes to warfare and field tactics. Unsurprisingly, he’s equally daft when it comes to politics.
‘I don’t understand,’ Damen says, fisting a hand in his curls, ‘how a man could let his own brother rot to death. I could have never done it, even if my own life were on the line.’
Those are the same words Auguste had said after reading the book.
‘We don’t have time for ifs and buts now. We still have two more chapters to complete. Come on,’ Laurent snaps. But to Laurent’s utter surprise, his words come out a little softer than he intends them to.
Much to Laurent’s relief, Damen doesn’t bring up the bond for the entirety of that time.
Damen passes his exam — barely.
In gratitude for helping him pass, Damen offers to buy Laurent tea. They choose a café inside the campus, which is perpetually clogged with people.
It’s not a date. No. No matter how vehemently Jord terms it as one.
While Laurent waits, Damen gets a black coffee for himself and Laurent’s favourite brew of tea.
‘How did you know?’ Laurent asks, wide-eyed, for he’s not the type of person to advertise his favourite choice of beverage on social media.
Damen just shrugs with a dimpled smile.
They talk through four servings of tea, and until the sky goes dark. It’s very easy to talk to Damen, Laurent realises.
Simple.
Laurent finds himself smiling on his walk back home. That night, he dreams of deep voices, rich laughter and dimpled smiles. It’s not like he’s ever going to admit all of that to Jord.
There’s a commotion on the university grounds early on a Friday morning. A significant number of people are gathered around a huge tree. A kitten is stuck in the higher branches and unable to get down, Vannes tells him. Laurent runs to the tree as soon as he spots Damen climbing the thick branches from afar.
Laurent watches with bated breath as Damen gingerly picks up the spooked kitten, huddles it to his chest, and jumps to the ground. When Damen straightens and unfurls, the kitten peeks out of his burly arms and mewls, prompting cheers and applause.
Damen turns and catches Laurent’s eye, and the air between them crackles with static. As if pulled towards him by the bond alone, Damen walks to Laurent and gently holds out the kitten. ‘I don’t think he belongs to anyone. Would you like to have him?’
For once, Laurent is unable to speak. He wordlessly takes the kitten into his arms, and when Damen’s fingers brush the soulmark on his wrist, the static breaks and a current runs through Laurent’s body.
Laurent will never agree to the fact that a single touch has plagued his thoughts and dreams. And if he cuddled the kitten that night a little tighter, well, it’s not like it’s going to rat him out.
Before he knows it, Laurent is invited to one of Damen’s boxing matches. It’s not until he sees Damen flexing his bare muscles and taking down the opponent that Laurent truly comprehends how attractive Damen is. The square of his jaw, the strong line of his shoulders, and the strength of his arms are impossible to miss.
But Laurent also knows how impossibly gentle those arms can be, how warm a smile the same jaw can sport, and how those broad shoulders almost hunch in obedience in front of Laurent. A shudder runs through Laurent’s body at the thought.
Laurent is filled with something very close to pride when Damen is declared the winner.
‘I heard you found your soulmate,’ someone says, shaking Damen’s hand as he climbs down from the stage. ‘Double the reason to celebrate, then. Who is the lucky person?’
Damen’s eyes meet Laurent’s easily. Their gazes linger. Damen looks away first and shrugs. ‘Ah, it doesn’t matter,’ he says, pulling the glove on his left wrist a little higher.
A heavy and uncomfortable weight settles in the depths of Laurent’s heart at the hurt in Damen’s eyes, and refuses to leave.
The same weight descends to his stomach and threatens to knot it infinitely when Laurent learns that Damen is unwell and won’t be attending classes that day. He feels jittery, can’t concentrate in class, and avoids meals for the most part of the day. When he can’t contain it any longer, Laurent makes a bowl of soup for Damen and sends it with Jord.
It’s basic concern for a friend that prompts the action out of Laurent — because that’s what he and Damen are now — not some soulmate ridiculousness, because thinking in that direction would be insane.
Laurent doesn’t see Damen for the next two weeks, and if the majority of those two weeks are spent agonising over Damen and his well-being, well, nobody needs to know.
When Laurent finally sees him at Vanne’s party — to which Jord had forcefully dragged him — Damen isn’t alone. Jakoste is at his side, her hands all over his biceps and her breath hot against his ear.
Laurent leaves before he can see more.
The night is cold as he walks home, and Laurent hugs himself a little tighter than necessary.
‘Laurent!’ Damen’s voice stops him.
‘You don’t even have a jacket on,’ Damen says when he jogs to his side. ‘Do you want me to walk you home?’
‘No, I’d hate to keep you away from her,’ Laurent says, tipping his chin towards the house.
Damen sighs heavily at that. ‘There’s nothing going on there, and I don’t want to go back.’ A moment passes before Damen spreads his arms. ‘I don’t understand you, Laurent. I thought you hated me, so I kept quiet. I didn’t want to bring up the bond and make you uncomfortable. But after that, you were so…’ he trails off, shaking his head helplessly.
Pulling up his sleeve to show Laurent’s name on his wrist, Damen continues, ‘But now, I can’t ignore this any more. I can’t see you near me and not want you to be mine. I can’t look at you and not want to touch you. I can’t touch you and not want to kiss you—’
‘Then kiss me,’ Laurent says suddenly, surprising both Damen and himself.
Damen stares at him, baffled. So Laurent repeats — almost a whisper this time, almost a plea — ‘Then kiss me.’
Damen walks closer to him, wraps his arms around Laurent’s waist, and presses his lips gently to Laurent’s. It’s the strength in Damen’s arms that keeps Laurent from falling when his knees give out.
Laurent writes to Auguste that night, telling him that he has bonded.
I feel like I can combust when he touches me, Auguste. I feel like I can fly when he kisses me, and in his arms, I feel safe. For better or for worse, I know that he’s the other half of my soul.
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