Work Text:
Sergey frowned at his arm. His soulmate had a habit of scribbling things on their arm- appointments, book returns, what he assumed were class notes but were just a bunch of numbers and letters that looked vaguely like some of the ones he had to learn for his chemistry GCSE exam.
This one was no exception.
Ideal Gas: pV = nRT
He had no clue what it meant, it was one of the many cyphers his soulmate wrote in.
“Hey, Serg,” his friend Mitch asked, placing a takeaway cup of coffee and a millionaire’s shortbread on the table and pulled out the chair opposite him, plonking himself down and shoving half his cake into his mouth. “What’cha frowning at?”
Sergey showed Mitch his forearm, the blue-inked encryption revealing itself to the law student.
“I have no clue what this is.” He said, pulling his sleeve back down and picking up his cup of tea.
“Looks like an equation to me, mate,” Mitch sipped his flat white and pulled a face. “Gah, I thought I put sugar in this. Gimme a min.”
Sergey turned his attention back to his laptop, pulling up Google Docs. He had an essay due next Wednesday and he wanted to finish his final checks before sending it in. Everything had to be perfect.
“Y’know, I could always ask Stoffel. He took chemistry A-Level, he might know what it is.” Mitch tore open a packet of sugar and poured the whole thing into his cup before his cup, doing the same with a second packet.
Sergey thought for a moment. “It might help in understanding what they’re on about.” He nodded.
Mitch pointed his stirrer at him, the wood dripping with coffee. “What else have they written?”
Sergey turned his hand over, showing Mitch the latest note:
Return library books
Thursday
“Don’t suppose you know which library?” Mitch raised an eyebrow.
Sergey shook his head. “Most specific is if it’s the public library, then it has ‘town’ underneath in brackets.”
“Darn,” Mitch grumbled. “Anyway, how’s your essay going? Stoff offered to proof-read it again.”
The creative writing student was the group’s go-to spellcheck, often picking up on errors better than the built-in one on Docs, or the Grammarly Sergey had downloaded and paid subscription for.
“I’m just checking it over, then I’ll send it over to Stoff for a final check, I wanted to make sure I have everything in it.”
“Hey guys, can we sit with you? Stoff’s in a lecture and we can’t find Tonio.” Robin asked, setting his cup down on the table next to Mitch, Oli doing the same on Sergey’s side.
“He’s probably in the library. Doesn’t he have an exam next week?” Sergey peered over the top of his laptop at Mitch, who shrugged before a massive grin split across his face.
“Maybe we could ask him to find your soulmate.” He sniggered. “He might have a better chance than you.”
Sergey rolled his eyes. “Haha, very funny.”
“Why would Antonio find Sergey’s soulmate in the library?” Oli asked, biting into his sandwich.
“Cause they have books to return by Thursday,” Mitch stated. “They seem to write everything on their arms.”
“What makes you think it’s our library?” Robin queried, looking up from his phone where he had a Pinterest open on anew moodboard.
“We don’t, Mitch is just being silly.” Sergey sent the law student a look.
Mitch stuck his tongue out at him and downed the rest of his coffee. He stood up and threw his cup in the bin. “Welp, I have a seminar now. I’ll meet you here when I’m out.”
“Have fun!” Robin giggled as Mitch flipped him off.
---------------------------
Sergey stared at the books in front of him, the stack already in his arms growing heavier with each book he added to it.
Sometimes he regretted taking a joint honours, keeping track of the different assessments and assignments was getting more and more difficult.
He felt a tingling on his arm, suggesting his soulmate was writing on their arm again.
He brushed it off, grabbing another sociology theory book and heading towards the borrow machines on the ground floor.
Normally, the library was somewhat busy with third-years studying vigorously for finals and first-years scrambling to get work done within the first ten minutes of it being set.
Sergey remembered when he and the others first started, every night was spent studying, notes were written, rewritten and then typed up and coursework done within the week it was set.
Somehow, they had each managed to find an equilibrium that worked for them. Each had diverse amounts of work in different areas, varying from the coursework-heavy of Stoffel and Robin’s courses to the exam-heavy of Mitch and Antonio’s. Each of them had to balance their schoolwork with their social life and their jobs, plus any extra-curricular activities they did.
It was like Sixth Form all over again, just with more problems.
Sergey shoved his newly-borrowed books into his backpack and headed towards the café in the Commons.
On his way out, he passed an obviously first-year student frantically scribbling what must have been book references on his arm, and from the way his head snapped back and forth between the bookshelves and his arm, Sergey was surprised that he hadn’t given himself whiplash.
His left forearm tingled, but he shrugged it off, leaving the library and walking into the Commons. He dumped his backpack on the seat next to Stoffel and took out his wallet, heading towards the counter to order a drink and a biscuit.
He took a quick glance at his forearm, looking at the lines of letters followed by a series of numbers that marked his skin in the purple-ish colour of dried black biro.
He pushed it to the back of his mind as he took that coffee and went and sat back down at the table their group usually occupied. Everyone seemed to be working on something- Mitch was furiously tapping away at his keyboard, probably writing that essay that was due to tomorrow.
‘ Typical Mitch, ’ Sergey thought as he sat down.
Stoffel had his head buried in a book, which wasn’t at all unusual- the creative writing student could normally be seen up to his elbows in a book.
Antonio was plunging some numbers into a calculator whilst simultaneously plugging them into his laptop.
Robin had a multitude of water brush pens, colouring pencils and art pencils scattered on the table, sketchpad half-on his knee, half-propped up against the table as he scratched away at the paper.
Sergey opened his laptop to his Docs and pulled out one of the books from his bag, skimming through the contents page, looking for a specific theory he needed for his assignment.
It was a strange set-up, but with midterm exams and progress checks fast approaching, everyone was frantically studying to get the best grades they could.
They were a weird bunch, who would’ve thought they’d be friends? Not only did they all take completely different subjects, but their personalities were also diverse. It ranged from the razzle-dazzle exuberance of Mitch and Robin to the more subdued, calm of Stoffel and Sergey, with the others falling somewhere on that spectrum.
His arm tingled again, and he peered at the notes.
Glucose; C₆H₁₂O₆
More chemistry notes.
Sergey went back to his assignment, pushing any thoughts of soulmates and weird chemical formulas into the back of his mind.
---------------------------
Over the months, Sergey became more and more interested in his soulmate.
Now midterms were done and out the way, he had a bit of breathing space.
And with that breathing space came time to think and mull over his soulmate.
What did he know about them? Not much. Just they liked chemistry, at the least.
Which really didn’t narrow it down.
He sighed and ran a hand down his face. He knew he should stop thinking so much about it and let it happen naturally. He didn’t know of anyone who had found their soulmate through excessive worrying and searching.
Anyway, Fate had a particular way of doing things. It was unlikely to pair you with someone who you’d never meet, so his soulmate had to be close by.
It wasn’t a mystery per se, just a really, really hard 1,000-piece jigsaw to piece together.
And it was so much harder when the pieces you had didn’t fit together.
He took a look at his hand again. Return library books, chemistry notes, book references, what appeared to be room numbers but could honestly be anything-
Hold on.
Those room numbers looked suspiciously like the ones at uni.
So maybe his soulmate was someone who went to his uni?
No, that was far too easy. Fate wouldn’t work like that.
Or would it?
He shrugged it off for the moment and turned back to his work.
“Hey Serge,” his flatmate, Esteban, popped his head around the door.
“Yeah?” Sergey asked, turning around in his chair to face Esteban.
“I’ve got a friend coming round soon, is that okay? If you’re busy we can go to the Commons.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I only have one essay left, and I have my headphones anyway.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks” The psychology student backed out of the room and closed the door.
Sergey plugged in his headphones and turned on some music, going back to his work.
His stomach grumbled and he sighed, pausing his music and standing up. He stretched a little, feeling his shoulders pop as his legs protested at being used and his ass hurt from being sat on for five hours.
He opened his bedroom door and headed into the kitchen.
The familiar sound of MarioKart was playing in the sitting room as he passed, Esteban and his friend sitting on the sofa with controllers in their hands, laughing and squealing in response to the game.
Sergey chuckled quietly and entered the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a Tupperware box of spaghetti bolognese. He tipped the food into a bowl and shoved it in the microwave to reheat it.
Ah, the joys of being a student.
He pulled the bowl out of the microwave once it was done and grabbed a fork, making his way back to his room and passing the sitting room as he did so.
Esteban must have heard the beeping of the microwave because he head was up as soon as Sergey entered the hallway, calling him over.
“Sergey! Come play with us!”
Sergey thought for a second. His essay could probably wait, he still had a week left to do it, after all, and he was well over halfway done. He could afford to take a break.
Besides, it’d be nice to meet Este’s friend.
He sat on the sofa next to the brown-haired boy as Esteban set up another game and controller.
Esteban’s friend smiled nervously at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, I’m Lance.” He held out his hand.
“Sergey.” Sergey gave Lance’s hand a shake. “What do you do?”
“Chemistry. You?”
“History and sociology.”
“A joint honours? Wow, you must be smart.” Lance laughed.
“Eh, not really. I just liked the subjects. Didn’t realise how much work it would be, though.”
“Right you two, stop flirting, the game’s ready.” Esteban threw a controller at Sergey and flopped onto the settee in-between the two.
The majority of the night was lost to MarioKart battles and fits of giggles.
---------------------------
It was during studying for the end of term exams his soulmate starting writing on their hand much more; equations, exam rooms, times and dates, key things to take.
Sergey didn’t ponder much on what his soulmate was doing, he had his own exams to worry about.
Sergey clicked on the email from his history professor, subconsciously holding his breath as the email opened.
Grade, grade, grade, grade, ah!
Overall grade: A
He let out a sigh of relief, picking up his phone to call his parents.
There was a tingling on the back of his hand, his soulmate was writing!
He quickly turned his hand over to see what they’d written.
B
He assumed that was their grade, and a very good one at that. Well done, soulmate.
---------------------------
With exams out the way, Sergey turned his focus back to finding his soulmate.
They always wrote their appointments on their hands, and he always tried to find them, but he never could.
Fate seemed to enjoy pulling him along on a string, making him believe he’d finally get to meet his soulmate before crushing his hopes like one would crush a pie into someone’s face- embarrassing and starting to get old.
Sergey felt his hand tingle and he glanced down at it.
Eden Grove
Monday, 1pm
Maybe he finally had a chance to meet his soulmate, maybe he shouldn’t give up hope just yet.
A quick Google Maps search showed him Eden Grove was a café around 10-minutes walk from the flat.
He checked his timetable to make sure he didn’t have any lessons around 1 on Monday.
Luck seemed to be on his side for once- his Monday was clear.
He almost couldn’t believe it, was he finally going to get to meet his soulmate?
Monday couldn’t come soon enough.
The weekend passed in a flurry of assignments and Netflix marathons in Mitch’s room.
Finally, though, Monday arrived.
Sergey was up as soon as his 7am alarm went off and showered before turning to his wardrobe. He had to pick the best outfit for meeting his soulmate- smart enough so his soulmate didn’t think he was scruffy (even if he was), but casual enough to pass it off as a coincidental meeting, like he just so happened to be in town.
After about half an hour of trying on different outfits, he settled on his blue and white baseball tee and dark blue jeans. It was still early spring, and April showers were a daily occurrence, so a jacket was flung over the back of his chair and he pulled on his trainers to head into the kitchen.
Mitch was sat at the table, shovelling pancakes down his throat as fast as Stoffel placed them on the table.
The law student reached out to grab another, but Stoffel whacked him upside the head with the tea towel he was holding.
“Let Sergey have some before you try and fill your bottomless pit.” He scolded as Sergey sat down at the table.
Sergey laughed and speared a few pancakes onto his plate, dousing them in maple syrup as Mitch inhaled the last on the plate, ignoring Stoffel’s cries of protest.
Esteban and Oli entered the kitchen not much later, each grabbing a few pancakes in-between Mitch’s mass-murder of the food.
Both had morning classes that day and headed out as soon as they were done, leaving Sergey, Stoffel and the bottomless pit to finish clearing up.
---------------------------
Sergey glanced at the clock.
12:45
He pulled on his jacket and backpack, shoving his keys into his pocket as headed out.
“Okay Sergey, you’re just likely to meet your soulmate today, no biggie, you got this.” He mumbled to himself as he took the street that led to the town centre.
He felt his heart beating faster and faster and faster , the sound of ringing in his ears increasing with every step, pulse racing and hands shaking as he tried to calm himself down.
Finally, Eden Grove came into view and Sergey stopped in his tracks.
It wasn’t a large café, bigger than the usual one in town he went to, though, and it seemed popular with students.
The outside was painted a deep green with cream lettering and a large bay window. There was an outdoor seating area just off the pavement and a blackboard showing the day’s specials.
Sergey checked his watch.
12:54
He quickly entered the café and got in-line to order, doing a quick sweep of the room, looking for any tell-tale signs of his soulmate.
He saw Esteban sitting in a corner, palming a mug of hot chocolate and scrolling through something on his phone.
‘ If Este’s here, Lance will probably be as well. ’ Sergey thought.
As if like magic, Lance strolled into the café, making a beeline for his friend.
Sergey watched them interact for a minute, before turning back to face to counter as people moved up.
He placed his order and took it to sit at a table outside, close enough that he could see into the café, but far enough away that it didn’t look weird.
The sociology student took a sip of his coffee. It was much better than the one on campus, and cheaper too. He’d definitely have to come more often.
His palm tingled and he glanced into the window, scanning the tables to see who was writing.
There! A mop of dark hair on a head tilted downwards, sitting in front of-
Esteban.
Lance was sitting in front of Esteban, writing on his hand.
Lance was his soulmate.
Sergey’s eyes widened. He hadn’t considered Lance as an option.
In all honestly, he hadn’t counted anyone at the university as an option, it just seemed too easy, too coincidental, too far-fetched.
Well, they did say the impossible could become possible.
He finished his coffee and got up from the table, head reeling with the information.
Now, how to tell Lance?
From that moment on, Fate seemed pretty hell-bent on keeping him from seeing Lance again.
A flurry of assignments and tests and lectures and schoolwork, not to mention his part-time job at the restaurant, kept him busy, and he had no idea what Lance’s schedule was, so that certainly didn’t help matters.
Yes, he knew he could just ask Esteban, but he hadn’t seen the psychology student around much either.
Anyway, would it seem weird if he just went up and asked Este if he knew when Lance was free? Aside from Este, none of them really spoke to the chemistry-
Holy. Shit.
Sergey bashed his head on the desk in front of him and groaned.
All the signs were there! How did he not see it?
Lance had told him outright he took chemistry and yet it still didn’t click. Hell, Professor Bowden was one of the chem lecturers at the uni, how did he not notice it?
‘ Still, it doesn’t matter ,’ Sergey thought as he picked up his pen. ‘ I need to finish this essay and then I’ll see if I can find Lance .’
Fate has a weird way of working, you never know what it’s gonna do. One week it’s keeping you as far away from your soulmate as possible, the next it’s dropping them right into your lap.
No, literally.
Lance fell into his lap.
He’d gotten up immediately, apologised profusely and exited the Commons as quickly as possible.
Sergey’s face was like a tomato all day, which gave Mitch and Robin ample opportunity to tease him relentlessly.
The next time he saw Lance, they were in the library, Lance scribbling notes on his arm- he was the one Sergey had seen writing book references on his arm, so dumb Sergey!
Sergey took a deep breath and pulled a pen out of his pocket. He wrote just three words on his palm:
I found you
Lance’s eyes went wide, and his head snapped up, looking around to see who could’ve written those words.
His eyes met Sergey’s, who gave him a nervous chuckle and lifted his hand as if to wave.
Lance ran at him, and Sergey was only just able to ground himself before they barrelled into the bookcases behind them.
“Is it really you?” Lance whispered.
“I hope so,” Sergey replied, pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie, showing Lance the scribbles on his arm.
Lance trailed his fingers across them. “These were for my thesis.” He breathed.
Sergey wrapped him in another hug.
He’d finally found him.
Lance, his Lance.
His soulmate.