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Laurent was sitting alone, his hands crossed on the table in front of him as he waited for Nicaise to return from the restroom. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing silky smooth skin that looked almost translucent in the dim lighting. Lazily, he let his eyes trace over the words that had been etched on his wrist for as long as he could remember.
As bland as the idea of love was to him, the familiar words sent an uncomfortable thrill through him. It was said that you were born with the first words your soulmate would ever say to you marked on your skin; a mix between a tattoo and a birthmark.
Laurent had always fought hard against the notion that soulmates meant romantic. “Finding your other half doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve got to be head over heels and ready to fuck,” he told his friend, Vannes, during one of the late-night chats they’d had when they were living together. Part of his disdain for the entire thing came from the embarrassment of being meant for someone who was going to ask such an asinine question on their first meeting.
Is it socially acceptable to drink hot sauce in public?
Vannes had laughed at him, waving his response away with a “Well, that’s because you haven’t met yours yet.” At the time Laurent had rolled his eyes, unmuting the television after the commercials had finished, but he wished he’d said: “Neither have you.”
There was something humbling about knowing that your soulmate was probably an idiot. The sympathetic looks you could receive at parties should word get out, the gossip that would sort of move around you like smoke. It was empowering for the same reason. Any gossip, even gossip at Laurent’s expense, made his uncle seem that much more human. Less above everyone else.
Twisting his straw around the rim of his water glass, he didn’t look up whenever Nicaise sat back down in the seat across from him.
“Is it socially acceptable to drink hot sauce in public?” The voice didn’t belong to his prepubescent nephew. Narrowing his eyes, Laurent slowly brought his head up to look at the person sitting across from him in the booth. The man stared at him, wide brown eyes shocked. He nodded once and said, “Oh. You’re not Jokaste.”
“Is it socially acceptable to be so stupid?”
It was the first thing that came to his mind, and okay, maybe a bitchy remark wasn’t how people normally greeted their soulmate, but honestly? What kind of moron bothered asking something like that? Despite it, though, the man broke into a grin, a dimple poking into his left cheek. “I’m Damen, what’s your name?” And damn it all, Laurent could hear the smile in his voice as much as see it.
“Not interested,” Laurent said, furrowing his brows. Damen tilted his head to one side. When Laurent didn’t say anything, Damen started to move, shifting towards the edge of the bench. Laurent closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, “It’s Laurent.”
Damen turned back, a smile on his face, “It’s nice to meet you.”