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Jemma first meets him at school. He’s the new kid in her class. A boy from Scotland. The teacher calls him Leopold and a few kids chuckle in disbelief at the strange sounding name. The boy looks like he wants to flee. His body is tense and his hands are clenched into fists. He keeps his head down and his shoulders low. His curly hair is ruffled and his eyes so blue, they look like a reflection of the summer sky outside.
Jemma watches as the boy sits on the only free table one row in front of her. Now that he’s closer, she can see how skinny he is, how his clothes look baggy on him and how old everything he wears is. His sweater is patched with some monkey stickers, the sole of one shoe is loose, the lace is missing.
She watches as the boy pulls out equally old stuff from his bag, arranging everything on the table in a very careful manner for quite a long time. Finally, he seems to be satisfied and sits up straight, looking ahead.
When the teacher calls the boy up for the first time ever, he flinches at the name Leopold. “Fitz,” he says, instead of answering the question.
“What?” The teacher asks, frowning. Every kid in the room perks up and stares between the strange boy and the teacher eagerly.
“Fitz,” the boy repeats, calmly. “That’s my name.”
“It’s … your surname,” the teacher says carefully, squinting at her list. “Fitz is your surname. But your first name …”
“I don’t like it. My mother says it’s my name, so I get to decide who I am. And I want to be Fitz. Not Leopold,” the boy insists. A few kids begin to chuckle and whisper.
The teacher’s frown deepens. She looks from the list to the boy and back, sighing. “Alright,” she finally says hesitantly. “ Fitz .” It’s like she tastes the word on her tongue. It sounds strange. “Are you going to answer my question now?”
The boy does, with a mild smile.
Jemma is impressed.
The other kids less so. In the break, some boys start to tease Fitz. They ask him if he got his clothes from a second hand shop or out of the rubbish, call him Leopold deliberately and laugh about the monkey stickers on his sweater. Fitz sits down on a bench and pulls out a book, acting like he doesn’t notice the other boys. They continue to taunt him, until they seem to grow boring and tatter off - all beside one. George, a boy who is big for his age and known for being mean to smaller kids, grabs Fitz’s book and throws it on the ground with an ugly laugh. When Fitz goes to his knees to reach for it, George knocks his bag over as well. Pencils and books fall out from it.
George wanders away and highfives the other boys.
Jemma watches Fitz, who collects his things with slow movements and hesitates. He looks like he could need some help. The bell rings. One of her friend calls Jemma’s name impatiently. She ignores her. She goes to the boy, fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater. She crouches down and reaches for a pencil, handing it to him.
Fitz looks up at her surprised, and she can see that his eyes are a little bit wet. “Thank you,” he murmurs barely audible with his strange accent and takes the pencil.
“You are welcome. Are you alright?” Jemma asks.
“I’m fine,” the boy says and smiles up at her. Or rather, he tries. The smile tugs at the corners of his lips but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His very blue eyes, that are carrying something tired and sad in them. Something, that makes Jemma want to ask again. She opens her mouth, but before any words can escape, she feels a tingling sensation on the inner side of her right arm. It itches. She frowns and pulls her sleeve back to look at the skin, her eyes widening.
I’m fine, appears on her arm in neat italic letters. Jemma gasps. Fitz’s breath hitches. They both stare at the words, stunned and confused and scared.
“Soulmates”, her mother says later when Jemma tells her parents about the incident at dinner, her eyes wide and Jemma’s father almost drops his fork. Soulmates are rare nowadays. Very rare. Soulmates can’t lie to each other. Every lie appears on their other half’s skin. Imprinted for hours, until the ink fades.
“Why him?” Jemma asks, frowning. But neither her mother nor her father knows the answer to that question.
I’m fine is the first lie Fitz tells Jemma. It’s not the last one. It seems like even when you can’t lie to someone, it still happens, like the little white lies are a natural reflex.
Jemma’s first lie soon appears on the back of Fitz’s hand. I’m not that good at maths, the words say. She told him that after they got a test back and Fitz was impressed by her score. Fitz looks at her and frowns. “If you’re good at something, you should be proud of it. You don’t have to play it down.”
Jemma’s cheeks burn. “I don’t want to come over as arrogant.” Because that’s what Coraline and her friends say. It’s arrogant to be good and brag about it. For them, it’s uncool to be so good at school in general. They used to call Jemma a nerd and, on bad days, a teacher’s pet. But now there’s Fitz. Fitz, who is good at school too and tells her to be proud instead of embarrassed. Jemma thinks she really likes him.
She starts to spend her breaks with Fitz. They’re not always talking. Sometimes, they’re just reading in comfortable silence. The other kids back away when they see them together, leaving them alone.
Jemma and Fitz become best friends very fast.
When Fitz is sick one day and has to stay at home, Jemma brings him the homework. “No one ever did this before,” he says in wonder, standing at the door in nothing but a pajama, his nose runny and eyes red.
“Well, it’s what friends do,” Jemma says, a bit confused.
Fitz’s eyes widen. “We are friends?”
“Sure,” Jemma says with a little chuckle.
Fitz smiles slowly, but brightly. “Great.”
Later, when she lays in bed, Jemma starts to realize that Fitz was so surprised, because maybe, he’s never had a friend before. That must be lonely, she thinks. Well, now she’s there.
A little while later, Fitz invites Jemma to his house and she meets his mother. She’s really nice and brings them cookies and hot chocolate.
They’re laying on Fitz’s bed, doing their homework together and eating the cookies. “Why did you leave Scotland?” Jemma asks eventually, a bit bored by the too easy math tasks.
Fitz’s hand holding a pencil freezes over his notebook. He bites his lip and avoids Jemma’s eyes. “Uh. My mum got new work here,” he murmurs.
Jemma knows it’s a lie even before she senses the tingling sensation again. Fitz stares at the words on her skin and he looks like he is about to be sick. Jemma is not sure what to do. She somehow feels the urge to apologize.
Fitz sighs. “My father … He lost his job some time ago and started to drink. A lot. He … changed.” He swallows, the pain in his eyes so clear and intense, Jemma can’t look away. “First, he only had bad temper more than usual, but then, he started to get mean. He insulted me and my mother. He yelled so much. And he started to … to beat me. When my mother found out, she packed our bags and we moved here, to aunt Lizza. Far away from him. He doesn’t know where we are.”
Jemma starts to feel very sad. She can’t believe a father would do something like this to his family. To a son so amazing as Fitz. “I’m sorry, Fitz,” she says quietly.
He nods curtly. “It’s better now. Like this. With only me and my mum. Even though we don’t have much money, it’s much better.”
That’s no lie. Jemma is still sad, but she can start to feel glad for him, that he has the chance to live a better life now.
They continue to do their homework. The words on Jemma’s skin slowly fade until they are no more.
Jemma and Fitz finish school together with the best grades. Jemma is slightly better. They go to the same college and have the same goal: Shield. But while Fitz says he would be completely satisfied with a lab job, Jemma dreams of going into the field, where the true adventures lie. When she tells Fitz, “Yeah. A lab job would totally be fine!”, the words itch on Fitz’s back only seconds later and he arches his brows at her. “Really, Jemma?”
She blushes slightly. “Sorry,” she says, biting her lip. Fitz chuckles and lays his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, it’s fine. If you want to go into the field, you’ll go. I’m not going to hold you back.”
None of his words itch on her skin. But there’s something sad in his eyes and she has to look away.
Academy is the best thing that could have happened to Jemma. She loves every class she takes, loves to listen and learn new things. Everything she does is tailored for her interests and talents. She shares a flat with Fitz and they spend the evenings learning, watching movies and eating pizza. When they’re sitting on the couch, their shoulders brush slightly and comfortable. She loves life like this.
She feels so comfortable with Fitz, if they’re talking or not. Even silence is wonderful with him. They share almost everything and when he’s not there, she feels a little bit empty. She looks at him when he gives his rare bright laughs, or when he starts to ramble about monkeys and can’t stop - he doesn’t have to, not with her - and she feels warm.
Life is great like this.
But with the time, something … changes.
Fitz seems to get more withdrawn. He spends more time by himself, moves away from her on the couch and says he has to learn too much to watch another movie. No lie, because they always have too much to learn, but still … Jemma can sense something’s off.
She meets up with Susan, one of her fellow students, because she needs to talk to someone.
“Fitz is acting strange these days,” she murmurs, stirring her coffee. “I have enough of seeing It’s all fine and I’m alright appearing on my skin. Why can’t he just tell me what’s going on?”
Susan hums. She is always eager to hear about Jemma and Fitz’s soulbond, since they are kind of famous at the academy, for being the only soulmates around. Right now, she doesn’t only look curious, but also … smug? It confuses Jemma. “What?” She asks, frowning.
Susan shrugs and grins. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Fitz finally admitted to himself that he has feelings for you?”
“What?” Jemma asks, her hand tightening around the cup of coffee. Feelings?
Susan laughs. “Oh come on, Jemma. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice he looks at you like you’re the moon. That poor boy is totally in love with you.”
“But … but we are best friends,” Jemma gasps, the confusion making it hard for her to breath. This is ridiculous. And yet … And yet, something clicks into place inside of her. A careful realization …
Susan sips her mint tea and sighs. “Are you really telling me, you don’t want to smooch him?”
Jemma blushes violently. “No! No, I definitely don’t want to smooch Fitz!” She calls, maybe a little too loud, because some heads turn into her direction.
Susan’s lips twitch. “Well. You’re awfully defensive about this …”
Jemma can’t even say anything. Time saves her. She has to go to class. Oh God. And she has it with Fitz.
Fifteen minutes later, Fitz sits beside her in the lecture hall. His ears are red. He's trying to hide his arm. But Jemma catches a glimpse of the words anyway, and her face burns. I definitely don’t want to smooch Fitz.
Oh God. It’s a lie. It’s a lie and she didn’t even know … This is fucked up. She doesn’t want this soulmate thing anymore. She feels exposed and can’t focus on the lecturer’s words at all.
“Jemma …” Fitz says quietly, when class is over, but Jemma rushes out before she has to answer him. Before she has to explain something, she doesn’t even understand yet.
Jemma avoids Fitz for quite a while after this, until he confronts her and leaves her no out.
“You don’t have to,” he tells her firmly.
“What?” Jemma asks, confused.
“You don’t have to, uh, kiss me. I mean … I want to. Have wanted it for quite a while now,” Fitz murmurs, looking aside and flushing. “But … I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for. You shouldn’t feel pressured just because this bond told me something you didn’t tell me. Just … I just want you to know that I have feelings for you. I really like you. I could never imagine being so close to someone, to spend so much time with someone, or to be touched and touch … But with you, I can see that. So, yeah, that’s the truth. You can be 100 percent sure that it’s the truth,” he says with a crooked smile.
And Jemma feels … wonderful. She looks at Fitz and so many emotions rush through her … It’s an ocean. It’s everything and nothing. “I think I’ll need time,” she says carefully. “I have feelings for you too. But … I’ll need time.”
Fitz carefully takes her hand. “All the time you need,” he tells her seriously.
“Okay,” Jemma whispers.
Time passes. They go so very slow, starting to get closer again. Close on the couch, shoulders brushing and laughter combining, when something funny happens on the screen.
One day, Jemma asks, “Fitz, do you want to go to the ball next week? With me?”
Fitz’s breath hitches. “Yeah. I want to,” he says.
Jemma is nervous about this. She’s never really gone to parties in her youth. Too many people talking while too loud music is pulsing and too bright lights are making everything blurry - she knows Fitz feels pretty much the same about it - and she didn’t like that it was kind of expected of people her age, but this, this she can do. With Fitz.
She still feels nervous when she presents Fitz the dress she bought. Midnight blue.
He looks at her silently, for a long moment, and just when Jemma starts to feel anxious, he says, “You’re beautiful,” his eyes wide and expression vulnerable.
And that’s when she gets it. When she really gets it. Jemma will always know how serious Fitz means his words. How much he loves her. How much he loves every aspect of her. Maybe, not everything about this bond is a curse, she thinks.
After the ball, Jemma kisses Fitz. Slowly.
"I will follow you everywhere," he tells her, leaning his forehead against hers. "I will follow you wherever life leads us."
And he does.