Work Text:
Felix wearily watches the sun paint its way across his body, eyelids drooping even in the bright light. His favourite part of the day was sunrise, its friendly rays scattering light across the waking city. It meant that the city was stirring, and his day was beginning. To him, the organised chaos of the waking city was beautiful, like music to his ears. But today, the morning light is blinding in its brilliance, and the constant noise of the trains’ coming and going was no longer pleasing, the usual comfort replaced by a jarring screech in the otherwise silent expanse of his fatigued consciousness.
Though perhaps consciousness was the wrong word to use, seeing as he was practically falling asleep where he stood. His alarm hadn’t gone off, probably a result of his failed attempt to cram a bunch of last-minute assignments into the final few hours of the day and he’d just made the train with minutes to spare. Born in the Day, Felix was always in bed before 7pm and any time later was a rarity. Of course staying up until 10 had messed with his body clock.
Through his drowsy haze, a piercing gaze makes itself known, and Felix shifts uncomfortably under its intensity. The woman is probably in her early 70s, and the disapproving set of her mouth triggers a familiar pang of anxiety. The words are spit viciously, intending to humiliate, but it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. Disgusting freak.
A shaky finger finds its way to trace the skin under his left eye, but instead of the even spread of concealer, he only finds the telltale bump of his soulmark. The same old fear grips his stomach, vicelike, and he wilts under the judgmental gazes of the carriage’s passengers, shaking with the effort of suppressing the tears that tremble on the edge of his lashes, threatening to fall. Felix doesn’t mind being fated to a Night, he really doesn’t, it’s only the hate and hostility that comes with it that terrifies him.
☆彡
“Excuse me, Mister, what’s that on your face?”
Chan freezes for a split second, but continues to bandage the young girl’s burns. A byproduct of some late night cooking, no doubt. These were common in young children during the Night. He remembered back when he was a child, he sustained injuries similar to her, but in dramatically different circumstances. Kids could be cruel, and he gazes down at her, feigned nonchalance on his face as he appraises her uncertainly.
He points exaggeratedly at his nose, in a desperate attempt to avert her attention, but she doesn't fall for it, pointing at the skin under his eye. “What's that black mark?”
Chan internally berates himself, the carefully applied concealer must have rubbed off. He blinks owlishly at the child, and she stares back at him inquisitively, eyes puppy-like in their innocence. He doesn't want to tell her, because truthfully, it’s none of her business, but she’s got him trapped in a corner. If he tells her, she’ll probably blab to her parents, but if he doesn’t, he runs the risk of her parents demanding answers too. An imploring stare meets his already defeated gaze and he caves, sagging imperceptibly as he gestures for her arm again. “It's a soulmark, don’t tell.”
He's not surprised when her face morphs into a mask of shock, and her look of utter horror is enough to send him spiralling into a panic. He can see the cogs turning in her head, registering the fact that it’s a Day mark, not the widely assumed Night mark. Ushering her out of the room and avoiding eye contact with her parents is the easy part, it’s ridding his anxious mind of her words, harsh and judgemental in the way of a child merely parroting the opinion of her parents. He tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t affect him, but it does, it does and it hurts and he’s powerless to stop it as it taints every crevice of his mind with fear and shame.
☆彡
The actual, physical darkness was not what was getting to Felix. It was more the fact that he couldn't get out of his own goddamn head, thoughts circling round and around like some demonic sushi train he couldn’t seem to switch off. It wasn’t that he’d never been in the dark before, he’d just never felt the need. As a Day, the law dictated that he would rest now, and wake again in the morning, ready to start the day again. He was usually content to ignore the nagging feeling that he was different, and he tried hard not to focus on the fact that society looked down on him for it.
It was hard though, having to constantly hide himself for what? A small mark on his face that didn’t fit the norms of society? Felix didn’t think it was fair, but then again, life wasn’t fair. He’d been dealt a shitty hand by fate, and what was worse was that he hadn’t even met his damned soulmate yet. Where was the eternal happiness and support he’d been promised? Felix was this close to giving up, and the woman today had been the final straw. Somewhere inside, something snapped, and for the first time, he allowed almost two decades of constant fear and rejection to well up inside him, spill over. The moon bathed his tear-streaked face in glowing silver, shining brightly from above, almost mocking in its in effervescence.
After almost 19 years of quiet hoping, he’d finally reached his breaking point. Supposed that even social outcasts had a limit. Desperation and anxiety blanket him, suffocating in their grip, so much so that he barely notices as he stumbles into someone. He looks to be about his age, and the look of concern on his face is so real that Felix is jerked out of his reverie, lurching forward to fall into the waiting arms of the stranger.
☆彡
The boy who stumbles into him looks like he’s just suffered from an existential crisis type moment, and the only thing Chan can think as he looks at the stranger in his arms is mood. Now that he looks closer, the boy looks about his age, maybe a few years younger even, and his first thought is that someone that young shouldn’t look so broken and defeated.
In a last ditch attempt to rid his mind of any remaining anxiety, he definitely hadn’t been expecting to bump into someone who seemed to mirror his own feelings exactly. In essence, a soulmate was supposed to be a reflection of yourself, a part of you that you didn’t know you needed until suddenly you did.
The despair and anguish running rampant around his mind is perfectly embodied in the boy in front of him, and as Chan reaches out to steady him, their eyes meet, and it’s as if he’s been electrocuted, if happiness and support and love could be transferred that way. The shock on his face must show, because the boy reaches towards his face, slowly, carefully, before tentatively brushing his fingertips over the raised bumps of his mark.
The whispered, “I’m Felix, and you?” just seals the deal for him. It’s real, it’s real and Chan’s heart feels like it’s bursting at the seams.