Chapter Text
ELIOT
Soul marks were the bane of Eliot’s existence. From the day he was born, all he heard was soul mark this and soul mark that. It was the only thing his classmates talked about. His parents, too, until that fated day his soul mark actually appeared on his skin.
His mother took one look at the mark and grabbed his arm, dragging him to the bathroom. She closed the door and crouched down, cupping his face.
“You can’t tell your father, okay?”
Eliot, just twelve at the time, nodded obediently.
“Good boy,” his mother whispered, smiling. She looked kind of sad, and he couldn’t understand why; they’d been waiting for this day.
Turning him, she grabbed something from off the sink and started rubbing something thick and cool on his shoulder. “This is foundation, baby. You’ll be using it daily from now on, okay?”
Eliot squinted at the floor. “Daily?” he repeated ludicrously.
She sighed softly. “For now, okay?”
He still didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway. He wouldn’t understand for a few more joyous months.
&
“You know John’s boy?” his father said at dinner one night. “He got his soul mark the other day.” He grunted. “He just found his soulmate. Chad something.”
Eliot stared at his father and thought about the thick layer of foundation on his shoulder. He glanced at his mother, who smiled tightly.
“Is that so?”
His father reached for him and patted his shoulder. “Better to have no mark, right, sonny boy?” he asked, grinning.
Eliot stared at his father. “Yes, sir.”
At thirteen, Eliot perfected the art of lying.
QUENTIN
Quentin watched as Julia rubbed at the mark on her arm. “You can’t just rub it off, Jules,” he said weakly.
“Ugh!” she exclaimed loudly, finally giving up.
Quentin scooted closer and glanced at the mark on her arm. “Why are you so upset?”
“Because!” she said, waving her arms wildly.
Quentin didn’t understand. He frowned, waiting. Predictably, Julia slumped against him and continued, “I thought for sure James would be my soulmate.” But that was definitely not the mark James had gotten a few months earlier.
He wrapped an arm around her body. “I’m sorry.”
Julia looked up at him and sniffed loudly. “You still haven’t gotten yours,” she whispered softly. It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t need one,” he said. “I have you and James.”
&
Quentin was a late bloomer in every sense of the word, and his soul mark was no exception, apparently. He was fifteen when the mark showed up on his thigh.
He went to Julia’s house immediately, wearing shorts. “Look,” he said, pointing. He felt… weird. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or disappointed. Maybe both.
Julia gasped and crouched down, looking closer.
Quentin held his breath, waiting.
“I have to be honest,” she said, standing up. “I wasn’t expecting… that.”
Quentin pursed his lips. “It’s girly, I know,” he replied, a bit snappy.
Julia rolled her eyes. “I’m happy for you, Q.”
“I… I know,” he sighed. He just wished he could tell if he was happy, too.
ELIOT
Discovering Brakebills was the best thing to ever happen to Eliot. Kind of. Honestly, meeting Margo was the best thing to ever happen to Eliot.
It was like Eliot and Margo had been crafted to be friends. In all the ways that mattered, Eliot considered Margo his soulmate. Because soulmates could be platonic, thank you very much.
Margo felt the same way.
“Fuck this shit,” she said one day while they were cuddling on the couch. She patted Eliot’s shoulder and sat up. “I found this spell. It’s technically forbidden,” she said, rolling her eyes, “but fuck it, I think we should do it.”
Eliot slowly sat up, leveling her with a curious, but slightly cautious look. “What are you thinking, Bambi?”
“Just look,” she said and reached down, pulling a small folded up piece of paper out of her bra. Eliot made a face, but she just flipped him off and unfolded it. “Here.”
Eliot leaned over and his eyes quickly scanned the page. “Margo, this is - soulmate spells are forbidden forbidden,” he said. “We could get expelled.”
“No one will know,” she said primly.
Eliot looked up into her face, pretty and thin. Underneath her exterior, he knew the truth: she was hurt and lonely and couldn’t believe the tales of soul marks in fear of just being hurt again. “Okay,” he agreed softly.
After a few failed attempts, they were both free of their soul marks. Not literally, of course, but they were hidden by the spell. Essentially, a fancy cloaking spell.
Eliot turned in the mirror, staring at his shoulder. “It’s like foundation, but better.”
Margo smiled lightly. “Fuck soulmates,” she announced loudly, grabbing their two drinks off the table and holding them in the air. “To real friends.”
QUENTIN
Meeting Eliot and discovering Brakebills were two separate, but connected events that changed Quentin’s life for the better. Magic was real, and he was a magician. Not a very good one, but hey.
“There’s so much,” Quentin flapped his arms. “Something in the air. Like I can feel it.”
Eliot laughed gently and swung an arm around Quentin’s shoulders. “That would be called magic, little one,” he said, eyes sparkling.
“It’s… amazing,” he said.
Eliot grinned and pulled away. “We’re having a party. A celebration for the newcomers.” His grin shifted, a bit softer. “You should come.”
Quentin chewed on his bottom lip. “Okay,” he agreed after a moment.
“You have a phone, yes?” Eliot asked. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”
Quentin nodded curtly and listed off his number. Eliot waved, just a little wiggle of his fingers, before sauntering off.
Maybe things were finally looking up.
&
“What are we playing?” Quentin asked later at the party. A large group of students were sitting on the floor, forming a messy circle with their bodies. Quentin stood over Margo, who looked up at his question.
“Truth and dare,” she said, smirking. “Wanna join?”
Quentin pursed his lips, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Isn’t that kind of like… high school-y of you?”
Eliot gasped dramatically and smacked his leg. “How dare you. Sit and we’ll explain the rules.” He made a point of scooting over, giving Quentin a nice spot between Eliot and Margo.
Quentin couldn’t help feeling oddly giddy as he sat down. He was sitting between the two most beautiful, popular students at Brakebills.
“Okay, so what are the rules?”
Margo grinned like a shark and leaned forward, holding up two fingers. “You can’t pick truth twice in a row, and you have to do your dare. No cocking out just because you’re scared.”
Quentin swallowed thickly. “Okay.”
She blinked, leaning back. “Really? Just like that?” she patted Eliot’s leg. “You’re right; maybe he will be interesting.”
Quentin quickly turned his head, staring at Eliot openly. “You’ve been talking about me?”
“I…” Eliot cleared his throat, clapping his hands together. “Okay, here we go.”
The game was, surprisingly, fun. Sure, Quentin’s first truth resulted in Margo making fun of him because he’d never received a blowjob, but what can you do?
But then it was Penny’s turn to ask Quentin. He gulped. "Dare," he said, predictably.
“Show everyone your soul mark.”
Quentin blinked. “Uh.” He hadn’t looked at that thing in months, not beyond pulling on and off his jeans.
Eliot glared at Penny. “That’s not - ”
“It’s my turn,” Penny shot back. “And it’s my dare.” He looked at Quentin. “Do it.”
Quentin blushed, red as a beet. “But it’s,” he gestured weakly at his lap, “it’s on my thigh,” he muttered quietly.
Penny raised both eyebrows. “And?”
“Fuck off, Penny,” Eliot said, jumping to his feet. He extended a hand. “Come on, Quentin.”
Quentin wasn’t about to say no; he grabbed Eliot’s hand and let himself be pulled up. Eliot glared at Penny again before tugging Quentin out of the circle and up the stairs. Quentin could hear Margo yelling something about - "it's the rules, Eliot!" - but she didn’t follow them.
Eliot walked a few feet before sighing in frustration and turning, slumping against a wall. Quentin wrung his hands. “Thanks?” he said, unsure. He was thankful, at least.
“I’m just - people have no right to information like that and it’s - “ Eliot yanked his fingers through his hair, messing up the curls.
Quentin nodded slowly. “You’re not a fan of soul marks, are you?” he asked knowingly.
“Not really,” Eliot commented dryly.
Quentin ran his tongue his teeth, looking away. “Same.”
“Really?” Eliot asked, standing straighter. "Uh." He scratched the back of his neck, obviously out of his element. "Do you want to, like, talk about it?"
ELIOT
Quentin looked at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “Do you?” he asked, a bit teasing.
“Not usually, but…” Eliot smiled. “There’s something different about you.” He laughed, barely a huff. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
Quentin shuffled closer. “I have a best friend,” he said, looking down at their feet. “Her name is Julia. She's a student here, too, but she's gifted, unlike me," he laughed sharply, "so she's been picked up for advanced classes, and... Anyway, she, uh - she wanted our friend James to be her soulmate so bad. She was, like, sure of it.”
Eliot hummed, leaning closer, pressing their shoulders together.
“But when she got her soul mark, spoiler: it wasn’t him.” Quentin looked up. “I didn’t get why she was so upset. We were all friends. We all loved each other. I didn’t think we needed more than that.”
Eliot nodded, pursing his lips. “I was always a very obviously queer little boy,” he tilted his head. “My mother knew from an early age. My father died not knowing the truth.” He shrugged. “In a way, I’m glad - I never had to deal with his anger and disappointment, but.”
Quentin reached out and touched his arm lightly.
He smiled tightly. “But because she knew, she had me hide my mark as soon as I got it.” He laughed sharply. “Probably knew there was some other poor queer kid out there with the same mark. I didn’t understand at the time, but I did once I was a little older.”
Quentin nodded slowly. “That should’ve been your choice, though, right?”
“I honestly don’t know, Quentin,” Eliot looked up. “And I don’t care, frankly.” He pushed off the wall, setting his jaw. “Soulmates, soul marks - it’s all bullshit if you ask me.”
Quentin smiled, just a hint. “Yeah? Well, I think we should go back to the party.” He shook his head. “I’m not letting Penny of all people ruin my first party at Brakebills.”
“Good idea,” Eliot replied, smirking.
QUENTIN
Eliot was, in all ways, spectacular. Even when he was angry.
“That fucking - “
Quentin had been at Brakebills for about three months, and had slowly been learning more and more about the pair that ruled the school. Eliot, for one, was surprisingly good at hiding his temper.
Which meant he must’ve been really angry to be showing it off so openly.
“What’s wrong?” Quentin asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Eliot looked up. “Oh,” he sighed loudly. “It’s - it’s nothing, Quentin. Want a drink?” he asked as if he was going to wait for an answer. He turned and walked to the bar.
Quentin walked to the couch and sat down. “You’re angry,” he stated blankly.
“And?” Eliot turned and walked over with two drinks in his hands. He sat down with a huff. “It’s not like telling you will help.” He tilted his head in his direction, an almost playful sparkle in his eyes. “No offense.”
Quentin snatched one of the drinks. “Rude,” he muttered, taking a sip. “But hey, sometimes all you need is a good talk. Get it off your chest.”
Eliot made a face. “Disgusting.”
“Jesus Christ, El,” he laughed sharply. “Talking about your feelings won't kill you, I swear.”
Eliot sighed lightly and crossed his legs, staring down at his drink. “I haven’t exactly divulged this information yet,” he started after a moment. “But I have quite a few siblings.”
Quentin nodded, taking another slow sip.
“And my oldest sister is, well, she’s kind of a bitch,” he said dryly.
Quentin smiled around the rim of his cup. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, and Quentin knew him well enough to know he was suppressing a grin. “She thinks I’m going to Hell, because as far she knows, her dear younger brother still doesn’t have a mark.”
Quentin blinked. “Oh, but… you do.” It wasn’t really a question.
Eliot raised his glass with flair. “That I do. You’re an observant one, little Q.”
“God,” Quentin rolled his eyes fondly. “I hate that nickname, you - you big giant,” he blurted finally. He blushed faintly and looked away.
He could hear Eliot’s grin. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” he teased, poking Quentin’s leg, “because let me assure you most men love the fact I’m a giant,” he poked his leg again, harder, “in every possible way.”
Quentin swallowed thickly. “Please,” he said after a long moment.
Eliot pulled his hand away with a shrug. “If you want me to prove it, little Q, all you have to do is ask.”
“Uh.” Quentin licked his lips, suddenly so very dry. “I’m hungry,” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet, nearly splashing his drink all over himself. “I’m - I’m gonna go - make food, yeah.”
Eliot watched him for a long, silent moment. Then with a heavy sigh, he stood up. "I don't trust you in my kitchen," he said blandly. "Come on. I'll cook."
Quentin laughed wholeheartedly. "Good call," he said, "I almost started a fire in Julia's apartment once." He grinned toothily. "We had to call the fire department and everything."
Eliot stared at him. "How have you survived this long without magic?"
"Uh," Quentin shrugged primly. "Pure luck?"
ELIOT
"You remember what you said three months after we met?" Margo asked, standing over him with her arms folded over her chest.
Eliot blinked up at her, genuinely confused. "Uh. I showed you that STD prevention spell?"
She must not have been too angry despite her posture because she cracked a smile and rolled her eyes fondly. "No," she said, plopping in his lap. "Though, that was very helpful. Thank you." She kissed his cheek. "It had to do with our marks."
Eliot frowned, sighing. "What?"
"That soul marks are entirely full of shit," she said, patting his chest. "That we would ever need each other. Fuck relationships. Remember?"
Eliot nodded slowly. "I do," he said, shifting and wrapping his arms around her waist. "But why are you bringing it up so suddenly?"
"It's," she pursed her lips. "You don't actually think - " she shook her head. "Jesus, Eliot."
Eliot smirked. "You sound like Quentin," he said, squeezing her waist.
"I'm about to admit something very embarrassing," she said, "but I love you, El, and the thought of, uh - losing you is hard for me." Eliot stared at her. "But I also want you to know that it's okay."
Eliot squinted. "What are you talking about?"
"Fuck soul marks," she said, head held high, "but if you find love without them, good. I want that for you." Margo smiled at him, oddly soft. "Go for it."
He leaned up and rubbed their noses together. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he repeated. "I mean, thank you for your very much needed permission," he said, teasingly, "but where is this coming from?"
Margo narrowed her eyes. "You're seriously not fucking with me right now?"
Eliot raised both eyebrows and shook his head firmly.
"I - " she put a hand over her mouth. "You're so fucking dumb, Eliot."
He huffed out a sudden, sharp laugh. "Wow. Thanks."
"No, no," Margo brushed a curl behind his ear. "Don't worry. You'll catch on eventually."
Eliot stared at her. "You're so confusing sometimes, you know that?"
"Confusing, but only with your best interests at heart," she mused, patting his chest again as she climbed off his lap.
"That's debatable," he said. "Remember last week when you let me drink so much I puked on the guy I was dancing with?"
Margo promptly turned away. "Nope, I have absolutely no memory of that."
Eliot just laughed, feeling fond and happy and content.
QUENTIN
"So this is one of the infamous parties you've been telling me about," Julia sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. "Gotta say, Q, I'm not impressed."
She was teasing, of course - Quentin could tell by her grin. He grinned back, a bit shy.
"Anyway, where are the drinks?" she pushed off the couch and threw an arm around the other magician. "I'm thirsty as fuck."
Quentin side-eyed her. "I'm pretty sure if you're thirsty, you should be drinking wat - "
She pinched his side, and he yelped like a puppy. "Drinks," she repeated, eyes sparkling.
Rolling his eyes fondly, Quentin led her to the bar, which was being ran by Eliot, like always. "Hey," Quentin greeted, suddenly feeling shy for no reason. He knew Eliot - they were friends.
Eliot looked up and smirked. "Hello," his eyes darted over to Julia, "and who is this?"
Julia smiled, polite as always. "Julia," she said. "And you're... Eliot, right?"
"You're not psychic, are you?" Eliot asked, narrowing his eyes.
She grinned. "Nope," she tugged Quentin closer, "just heard a lot about you from this guy."
"Jules," he hissed. "Jesus."
Eliot smirked. "Here, let me make you a drink," he said, already gathering the ingredients for his next concoction. "And do tell me why you haven't graced us with your presence sooner?"
Julia leaned against the stairs. "I was just so busy, with extra classes and - " she pursed her lips. "That totally makes me sound like a nerd, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Eliot answered, honest as ever. "But lucky for you, you're of the pretty variety."
Quentin rolled his eyes, feeling oddly left out of the conversation. He was usually okay with that. Actually, he preferred it usually but - "hey, once you're done with," he gestured vaguely at the bar, "do you want to dance?"
Eliot raised both eyebrows. "Are you asking me if I want to dance? With you?"
Quentin flushed. "I - I mean, with - " he sputtered lamely. "With Julia and me," he blurted finally, nudging her.
"Oh." Julia smiled sweetly. "That sounds fun."
Eliot glanced between them. "Yes," he replied after a few beats. "Just give me a second." He quickly finished Julia's drink and grabbed a student - Todd, Quentin remembered vaguely - to work the bar. "Come now," he grabbed one of Julia's hands and one of Quentin's, dragging them to the middle of the room. "Let me show you some real magic."