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One second he was making his father an omelette, the next he was being thrown over the kitchen table, some indistinct yelling ringing in his ears about being raised right and having some fucking respect. His father dug his nails at the back of his neck, hitting his head against the tiled floor.
"Did I raise a fucking faggot?" he asked, his breath hot against Isaac's ear.
"No, sir," he managed to mumble through clenched teeth as he tried not to cry, because that certainly wouldn't help his case. He should have been more careful. Isaac was pretty sure he cleared the browser history, but maybe he didn't, and his father had found out, and he was going to kill him.
"Then who is this Daniel guy, huh?" he growled, the sharp nails prickling his skin. "Are you two girlfriends now?"
"W- what?" he asked, honestly confused. He didn't even know any Daniel.
"Do I look stupid to you?"
"No. No, sir."
"Your mark, you disgusting piece of…"
His mark had appeared, and he hadn't even noticed. For a quick second he forgot all about his father and the taste of blood in his mouth, because he was almost twenty and he had given up on someday getting his mark, the name of his soulmate tattooed on his skin. For years and years he searched for it in the mirror every morning, and it never came. Everyone at school got theirs at sixteen or seventeen, when the Universe or God o whatever it was considered they were ready for it, but Isaac's never came, and he eventually stopped looking. Some people were meant to be alone. His father never got his either.
His father. He was still spewing something about Isaac being a dirty cumdumpster, digging his nails painfully in his neck, like he wanted to rip the name off his skin.
"It's a mistake," he said, because it had to be. The Universe couldn't be so cruel. Isaac enjoyed the sight of men, he liked closing his eyes and thinking about big hands roaming over his body, strong arms embracing him. He liked guys, but it was just cruel. He could never have a relationship with another man, his father would kill the both of them.
It was just cruel.
"It better be a mistake, boy."
"I swear, it is. I'm not… I would never..."
The tile was cold against his cheek, wet from tears or blood, or maybe both, he couldn't be sure. He didn't dare open his eyes.
"Dad," he begged. He rarely used that word anymore, it felt strange on his tongue. "I'm going to be late for work. Please."
"We're going to sort this out. We're going to get it removed. No son of mine will become a faggot."
"Yes, sir."
His father got up after a long second, clearing his throat.
"Go get ready for work."
Isaac went into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. His eyebrow was bleeding, but it looked worse than it really was. Eyebrow cuts were messy, and it would end up leaving a nasty bruise, but it wasn't that bad. He closed the wound with a tiny drop of superglue, like he always did, and covered it with a band-aid. Only as he was getting out of his stained t-shirt he remembered to look at his mark. He opened the camera on his phone and positioned himself with his back towards the mirror. And there it was, right on the nape of his neck, in bold black letters, the skin scratched and angry but the name perfectly crisp.
DANIEL
"I though you said you were late!" his father yelled around a mouthful of the ruined omelette, and Isaac didn't waste another second. He put on a new t-shirt and threw in a light scarf to cover his mark, and he went to work.
It was an uneventful morning at the coffee shop, just like every other regular Tuesday morning. College students came and went, ordering their overcomplicated coffees, and Isaac acted like his world hadn't suddenly been turned upside down. He noticed people's marks now, because he had made a point of ignoring them for so many years before. Jeff on a petite blonde's wrist, Ann on a huge guy's collarbone, peeking out from under his tee, Jesse on a hipster's forearm, surrounded by a million tiny flowers tattooed on his skin.
"Welcome to Coffeetown, what can I get you?" he asked for the umpteenth time that morning, trying to sound slightly less miserable than how he felt.
"Skimmed mocha, extra shot," the guy in front of him said with a smile, getting his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.
Isaac wrote his order on a paper cup.
"Name?"
"Danny."
His breath caught in his throat. He was the third variation of Daniel he had met that morning, but it never stopped being nerve-wracking. The first one had a perfectly visible Emma just above his knuckles, and the second one had a wedding band and was pushing a stroller. This one had warm brown eyes and an adorably dimpled smile, and his mark was nowhere to be seen. The guy behind him in line rested his weight on the counter and handed his credit card to Isaac.
"I'm buying."
"Jackson, please…"
"Can I get a soy latte with a lot of whipped cream on top?" he said, without even looking at Isaac, and he immediately went back to his conversation with his friend. Danny. "It's so weird, man. Maybe he just turned, like, fifteen. Maybe your guy is still going through puberty."
"Shut up, dude, that's not what this is."
"And what is it?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just me being here what's triggered the process. Maybe he's from here and I'm supposed to meet him now. I come here to visit you for the first time and the next morning… It's weird, right?"
Isaac didn't usually eavesdrop on the customers private conversations. They weren't that interesting to begin with, but he couldn't help paying attention to that one, because it sounded like -- no. It couldn't be.
"I don't think it works like that," the friend disagreed.
"And what would you know? You met Lydia in elementary school and you got her name like two years ago."
Isaac tightened the scarf around his neck and he busied himself with their coffee orders. It was just a freaky coincidence. That Danny guy, he seemed nice and sweet. Isaac wasn't nice, and he definitely wasn't sweet, he didn't deserve someone so -- good. And beautiful.
Fuck.
His friend shrugged. "Well, we weren't ready before."
"Maybe he wasn't ready either, but he is now."
That ruled Isaac out, didn't it? Because he was the opposite of ready. He had almost gotten himself killed by his father that same morning just for having an unacceptable name on his skin, you couldn't call that 'being ready'.
"Um. Danny?" he croaked, handing him the two cups of coffee.
"Thanks," he smiled, warmth radiating off of him like a sunny day.
"Have a nice one," he said, and they turned around to leave. Isaac rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. His eyebrow still throbbed with pain. This Danny couldn't possibly be his Daniel. Danny was only visiting his friend. He would go back to wherever it was he actually lived, and he would go on to have a nice enough life with someone else. It would be okay. Isaac would get his mark removed and everything would be just fine. It would be better for the both of them. He wasn't his Danny anyway.
He just needed him to leave, so he could carry on with his regularly scheduled day and his regularly scheduled life, but they decided to stop by the sugar and cream station. Isaac dropped his gaze and focused on tidying up the bar, trying to not overhear any more of their conversation.
"Does this mean you're going to break up with that cheating asshole Jared?"
It proved to be difficult, not overhearing.
"I guess," Danny pondered, stirring his coffee. "Although, I don't know. This doesn't mean anything, I might not meet him for a really long time."
"So you're going to stay with that buttwipe that doesn't deserve you until you meet the actual love of your life. Makes sense."
"So, what? I just leave everything and wait for him?"
"You don't wait around, you go out and you fucking look for him," the friend said. "There can't be that many guys called Isaac, right?"
The plastic bottle of syrup slipped from his hand and onto the floor with a dull thud.
"He's just the guy you're meant to spend the rest of your life with, but yeah, by all means just sit down and wait for him to fall on you lap."
Isaac crouched to pick it up before it leaked all over the floor, and he just didn't get back up. He rested his forehead against the door of the fridge and breathed for a second. That didn't change anything. Maybe he was his… his soulmate. So what? That didn't mean anything. He would go back home and he would find someone better, someone who deserved him. The Universe thought he did deserve Danny, but Isaac knew better. He was a fuck-up, a stupid good-for-nothing pain in the ass, and he could never make Danny happy. How could he? He was twenty years old and he still lived with his father, and Isaac would never subject Danny to his father's wrath. He would never let his father touch a single hair in Danny's head. Jesus fucking Christ. He was going to let him go back home and look for his Isaac endlessly for years upon years, until he finally gave up and settled for some other miserable unmatched loser. Fuck.
"Wait!"
Danny turned around, the little smile dancing on his lips fading right before his eyes. "Yeah?" he said, taking a tentative step towards him.
"Hi," he muttered, finding it hard to even look him in the eye. "I'm Isaac."
"Shut up!" the friend shrieked, patting Danny so hard in the back he almost stumbled head first into a table. "Are you serious?"
"I can show you my ID," he offered.
He laughed, just ecstatic about the whole thing, and Danny stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. "Okay. Get a grip, Jackson. Give me a second," he said, before turning towards Isaac with a shy smile and his cheeks flushed. "Hi."
"Hi," he said one more time. "Nice to meet you."
Danny laughed, warm and sunny and painfully beautiful. His heart ached for him. "Did you get one of these today?" he asked, pulling up his t-shirt. And there it was, on his side, just above his ribs. His name in bold capital letters against his soft, dark skin. A chill ran down his spine and his breath hitched in his throat. He could only nod as he pulled down his scarf and showed Danny the back of his neck.
The small group of patrons in the café started cheering, and Isaac hunched his shoulders.
"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cry," he heard Jackson mutter, and Danny laughed softly again, taking another step towards him.
"I didn't think it would feel like this. Do you mind if I…" he started to say, and then he was touching him, the pads of his fingers pressing softly on the nape of his neck. A whimper escaped Isaac's lips. "Why is it all bruised?" he asked, his voice thick with worry. "What happened?"
"My father, he… um. He didn't seem to appreciate your name," he said, covering himself up again.
"Jesus Christ, your own father did this to you?" he asked, following Isaac behind the bar.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing. It's… Has he ever done anything like that before?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Isaac," he said. God, he made his name sound so good.
"Look, Danny, you seem like a nice guy," he cut him off before losing his resolve. "I just didn't want you to spend your whole life thinking your person doesn't exist. I exist, and I'm here, and I can't do this."
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
"What?" he tried again. "Why?"
"I just can't. He'll kill me. Fuck, he'll kill you just to make me suffer," Isaac said, fighting back bile in his throat. "I won't let him hurt you."
"Jesus. Okay. This is -- okay. We're supposed to be ready for this, right?" Danny reminded him, taking Isaac hands between his tentatively. He let him, he let himself have that for as long as he could. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't ready for it."
"I don't feel ready."
"But you want this, don't you?"
"What, to fall in love with you?"
Danny managed a barely there smile. "Yeah."
"I think I do," he whispered, and Danny let out a small sigh. And he really really did. He wanted to make him laugh and hold his hand and kiss his stupid shy smile. He wanted everything with Danny.
"Have you ever been to California?"
"What?"
"I don't know. I think I've just gone crazy. Is this crazy?" he asked, turning towards Jackson.
He shook his head. "You're trying to keep each other safe. That's what it's all about."
"I'm going back to California in a week. Do you think you could maybe come with me?"
"I -- I don’t know. I have this job and…" And that was it. He had a shitty job and no prospects. And he had a soulmate.
"We'll find a way of taking care of everything. School?" he asked, and Isaac shook his head minutely. "Your mom or, I don't know, any brothers and sisters?"
"I don't have anyone."
Danny squeezed his hands tightly.
"That's not true. You have me now."