Work Text:
Baz
4 minutes. Just 4 minutes until I know.
My breath trembling, I trace a thumb over the face of my watch, in the low lamp light (Snow grumbled about how I was a “Twat” for keeping it on for at least half an hour before he fell asleep, but no matter). It’s my mother’s watch, really - A simple platinum band, with an iridescent face of Mother of Pearl. It's far too pretty a thing to bring about my damnation, but here we are. Every click of it’s hand, mocking me. Taunting me. Teasing me.
Everybody gets a mark on their sixteenth birthday (On the exact moment of their first breath), so I shouldn’t be so petrified. It's universally accepted that it's a good thing. Probably the best thing. Everybody has a soulmate (Romantic or otherwise). It’s one of the few promises in life. One of the few remarkable things that everybody is assured to experience. Everybody but me, that is.
You have to have a soul to receive a soulmark (Obviously). And I’m not certain I do.
Officially speaking, vampires don’t - Hence the laws allowing their slaying (The Mage and the Coven don’t deem killing a creature with no soul immoral, for obvious reasons). And, as far as I know, no other mage-vampire mongrels have been allowed to live to their soul day. So there really is no precedent for this.
Some of the more liberal magickal theorists, believe that the Crucible works using one's soul. And if that is the case, then I suppose that there is still hope for me. Although, nobody is really sure. So, even with me and Simon's original pairing, I may still be doomed to an unmatched life.
Gazing over him, my heart squeezes, tightly, within my chest. His mouth hanging wide open as his muffled, snorting snores fill the silence of the room. His face smushed against his pillow, sweetly, and his still damp curls swooped to one side. And he really shouldn’t look so delectable like this, all strewn out and sleep-crumpled, but he does (I guess I’m just slightly disturbed).
Smiling as I take him in, the realisation of my situation dawns on me. Suddenly suffocating me with it’s weight. It’s him. If it’s anybody, then it’s him. I’m certain of it.
But that doesn't help me. That only makes everything worse. So much worse.
Panic twisting in my gut, I squeeze my eyes closed, willing my mind to forget the passing of time. It’s no use though - The faint tick of my watch practically screaming within my ears, as my doom creeps closer.
How long is it now? How long until I know? Soulmate or not? I can’t look. I can’t bear it.
Either way, I’m ruined. If I don’t have a soulmark, then everybody will know that I’m defective. That I’m unlovable. That I’m unmatched in this world. If the Coven were to find out, I’d certainly be shunned, and forced to go and join one of those hippie “anti-compulsory soul bonding” cults (Although, I think I’d rather just go and lock myself away in a cellar somewhere, if that were the case). But ... if I do have a mark, then it’s him. Which isn’t exactly ideal, either.
He’s my antithesis. My sworn enemy. My intended victim or executioner. Not my lover (As much as I may want him to be).
Unrequited soulmates aren’t common, but they do occur every now and then.
That would be just my luck.
Two minutes, now.
One and a half.
One and a quarter.
One.
Forty six seconds.
Thirty.
Eighteen.
Twelve.
Seven.
Three.
Two.
One.
A brief searing against the softness of my wrist, and there it is. Simon. Scrawled across my skin, unmistakably, in his near indecipherable chicken scratch scrawl. And I don’t even care about the fact that it confirms that I have a soul, all I care about is that it’s him. Of course it’s him.
Helplessly, I reach my hand down, and trace the curves of his name with my fingertips, reverently. Simon. My Simon.
My heart swells joyfully, but my mind despairs. Bitter reality dulling the moment.
Choked, I gulp around the vicious knot of nerves scraping at my throat. Him. Forever. I’m his.
It’s like the universe is determined on making my life a mockery. A never-ending sick joke.
First it took my mother. Then it took my life. And now it’s taken my soulmate, by giving me the boy who could never love me back. Who could never reciprocate. Whose soul could never intertwine with mine. It's condemned me to a life of unfulfilled solitude. My schoolboy infatuation, an irreversible life-long sentence.
I’m one of the unlucky ones. The unrequited. The unloved. The unfulfilled. Of course.
Jumping up, I cross the room and grab my tie, wrapping it around my wrist, securely. Hiding my condemnation away - My stomach lurching, anxiously, as I do so. I can’t bear to look at it anymore. I can’t bear to look at him. I can’t - I can’t let him see.
Mumbling out a quiet “Stay Put”, I lock the fabric against my skin. If he noticed the wrap, he’d definitely try and peek at who my soulmate is (Even though that would be incredibly rude). But he has little respect for my privacy (As evidenced by all the stalking), and even less respect for social norms and basic decency, when it comes to me (Although, I can’t really blame him for that. I haven’t exactly been chivalrous towards him). But he can't see. He can never see. He can never know.
Satisfied, I slide back into bed, turning my body away from him. The indulgence of watching him, granted a new bitter, twisted edge.
I don’t hold out long, though (I never do). Flipping myself back around to look, within a minute. Because I’m weak. Because I’m a constant disappointment to myself.
Blissfully oblivious, he’s still sleeping soundly - His features softened and relaxed. And he’s so, so beautiful. He’s everything I want. My most commanding desire. The boy to whom my very being is irreparably tied to. And yet … there’s nothing. No hope. Because it can never be.
He doesn’t have his soulmark yet, but I know it won’t be me. I don’t think that it will be Wellbelove either, to be honest, which I suppose is a little comfort (Although, I don’t feel particularly smug about it right now). There's somebody out there for Simon Snow, just waiting for him, but it won’t be me, so what does it matter?
This is all I’ll have. This is all I’ll ever have. And, I suppose that, deep down, I’ve always known that. But it still stings. Crowley does it sting!
My whole pitiful universe revolves around him. My whole soul. And still, everything that stands between us is insurmountable.
Tears prickling in my eyes, I let out a choked sob. It’s pathetic really, but I’ll allow myself this. I’ll allow myself tonight, and then I’ll let it go. I’ll let him go.
I knew it would end like this. But I thought I was ready.
I thought that I could handle it.
But I can’t.
I just can’t.