Chapter Text
“Recent census data has shown that the prevalence of unreciprocated soulbonds has increased over the last three decades, as well as the number of partnered non-soulbonded pairs and groups. It is worthwhile to note that this may be due to a reduction in stigma rather than an increase in the frequency of the formation of unreciprocated bonds, however even a significant reduction in stigma isn’t enough to account for the nearly 300% increase documented.” – Prevna et al., “Trends in the Development of Unreciprocated Soulbonds”, Journal of Chromodermatology, 2015.
There’s a subgroup of soulmarked people that are glossed over. They’re not brought up in polite conversation, and whenever they’re mentioned, the temperature in the room drops a few degrees. People who are unreciprocated make up about 0.5 percent of the population, but most people would rather pretend they didn’t exist at all.
Usually it’s an accident. Two strangers passing on a busy street, one person accidentally brushes the other’s wrist, a quick apology for what feels like a static shock, and then they’re gone. One of them gives a mark they don’t remember and the other is left with one they can’t forget.
Sometimes they find each other, in the end. The tried and true Hollywood story begins with a fruitless, heartfelt search, followed by a long-awaited and completely serendipitous reunion, then a joyful marking in return. These are the stories that rom coms are based off of, the ones that make it onto the bestseller list.
But sometimes they don’t. Sometimes one person is left with a mark and nowhere to turn. Either because they couldn’t find their soulmate, or because their soulmate wants nothing to do with them.
To add insult to injury, unreciprocated marks look strange. They appear to shift fluidly, like the way sunlight plays over water, but muddy and sluggish. Supposedly, they continue moving until the mark is returned, at which point they become static. The longer they remain unreciprocated, the slower the marks move, eventually stagnating into an occasionally shifting, unevenly pigmented blotch. But the one thing they never do is fade.
Will Poindexter wishes he didn’t have this knowledge firsthand.
---
He doesn’t even remember when it happened, which is the most frustrating thing.
If it had been someone from his town, he could have figured it out. Fifteen hundred people isn’t actually that many, especially when there are even fewer that are unmarked and around his age, and Will’s good at being methodical. In time, he could check with them all.
But that’s not what happens. Instead he goes to a concert in Portland, a sixteenth birthday present from his parents. Somewhere in the crush of people crowding the stage, Will’s soulmate brushes up against his left shoulder. It’s loud and chaotic enough that Will doesn’t realize it’s happened until he goes to shower the next morning.
He stares in horror at the splotch in the mirror, unchanged despite the scrubbing he did in the shower. It’s a deep burgundy color and about the side of the palm of his hand, and Will stares at it for a full minute before he scrambles to put his shirt on.
This is definitely not ideal, but it’s not the end of the world, either. It’s not going to change anything, and Will is going to be fine .
---
Things are less fine than he thought they would be.
His mom cries when he tells her, which isn’t great.
His dad just looks away in quiet disappointment, which is honestly worse.
The pitying looks from his older brothers and sister are insufferable, so Will escapes outside with his younger ones instead.
He takes them to the park and watches as they chase each other around the small playground, waving at the other parents and babysitters also standing around, watching their own kids. They wave back, but Will can see the side-eyes and whispers already starting, the way his older brother’s friend’s gaze catches on his shoulder.
The last thing he wanted was attention, but in a small town anything weird or unexpected creates gossip and this will be no exception. He’d hoped it would take longer than this, that his parents would help keep it quiet. Apparently he was wrong.
Will hunches his shoulders and turns away, keeping his attention on his younger siblings to try and forget the way people are starting to stare. He forces a smile for Emma when she pulls him to the swings and focuses on playing with her instead.
---
“If you haven’t been able to find your soulmate, don’t give up, but don’t get stuck in a rut either! Many people find that moving on and finding new experiences actually increases the chance of finding their soulmate, since your lives are destined to be intertwined. Try something new, like joining a hobby group or consider a career change!” – Tanya Leblanc , Un No Longer!
Being able to go to Samwell feels like a dream.
His merit aid and hockey scholarship mean he’ll be in only a slightly ridiculous amount of debt, and honestly, it would be worth it just to be somewhere new.
No one at Samwell knows he’s unreciprocated, and no one will unless he tells them. He can just play hockey and do his work and he’ll have everything he needs.
Everything will be fine.
---
Will is possibly not fine.
This time it doesn’t really have anything to do with his soulmark, but he’s gotten pretty comfortable using it as a catchall whenever his life has gone to shit. It’s his unreciprocated soulmark, he can do what he wants with it.
Now, however, his problem has to do entirely with Derek Nurse, and so the blame rests solely on his (stupidly well sculpted) shoulders.
He’s just… so fucking irritating.
(And Will knows, he knows , that when he’s uncomfortable he can be snappish and rude. He’s well aware his temper is on a hair trigger, he’s hotheaded, and the chip on his shoulder is glacial in size. He is painfully aware that after two years of being stared at and whispered about, he can be overly sensitive. But he’s trying .)
Nursey makes everything look so easy , in a way that Will has never understood and desperately covets. Nursey is all quick smiles and light touches, dipping in and out of Will’s personal space like he belongs there. Nursey is poetry where Will stutters, easy grins where Will’s flustered. He doesn’t make any sense and it sets Will’s teeth on edge from the very beginning, before he’s ever called Dex.
Even his soul mark color is stupid and pretentious. Nursey calls it burnt sienna , like it makes him interesting , or something, to have a pretentious name for his color.
It’s fucking orange, alright? Dark orange, but still.
The coaches force them to train on the same line to get over the way they push each other away with all the stubbornness of magnetic poles. The frustrating thing is that when they stop snapping at each other long enough to work together, they really work. Dex is agile enough to turn on a dime, and Nursey’s so damn fast that together they’re a force to be reckoned with.
One touch, though, is enough to send them spiraling back to where they started.
“Watch yourself, Poindexter, that’s the third time you’ve gotten in my way.”
“ Your way? You watch it, or I’m not going to keep you standing the next time you trip over your own skates, Nurse .”
“With ears that big, I’m surprised you can’t hear me coming.”
“I can’t believe you don’t fall over more; your ego’s so fucking huge it must wreck your balance.”
“That’s not all about me that’s huge.” And then Nursey winks and Dex ends up tripping over himself and hitting the boards. Asshole.
---
“Hey, man. Nice work today.” Holster’s hand lands heavily on Dex’s shoulder and he barely suppresses a flinch. “We’re gonna go get breakfast, do you want to join?”
Dex looks over Holster’s shoulder to where Ransom and Nursey are chatting by the doors. “No, I’m good. I’ve got an early class so I’ll probably just grab coffee from Annie’s.”
“Okay.” Holster frowns a little, then pats his shoulder before turning away. “See you later, bro.” Dex only feels a small twinge of regret as he walks off.
Dex likes Ransom and Holster, he really does. But being around them, watching them play together seamlessly and then bringing that synchronicity off the ice makes him itch . It throws the uneasy truce he and Nursey have into sharp relief, bringing stark attention to all the gaps where the two of them don’t fit together quite right.
It’s an impossible standard to live up to. Ransom and Holster are soulmates , the absolute best of friends, basically Jaeger co-pilots on the defensive line. There’s no way in hell Dex and Nursey can live up to that, especially in their first semester of playing together.
It isn’t even like anyone really expects him and Nursey to be anything like Ransom and Holster. He and Nursey aren’t soulmates, and if the coaches are disappointed with their performance on the ice, that has more to do with their attitudes than them not being perfectly in sync. There’s no one holding them to such high standards except Dex himself, and he knows both he and Nursey are desperately trying to get better.
But Dex hates it. He feels out of place, like a puzzle piece that’s being forced into a space he’s not supposed to fit in. He feels like if he weren’t there, Nursey would have a better partner. One who could anticipate what Nursey is thinking without hesitation, who doesn’t get into nasty arguments that end in one of them storming off the ice, one who could talk Nursey down properly when he gets anxious, instead of poking and needling at him the way Dex does so Nursey will get distracted and go off on a rant about iambic pentameter, someone who could be a partner , in all senses of the word–
That’s a dangerous thought, and Dex carefully doesn’t follow it to its logical conclusion.
He feels like the second-best option. The backup partner, perfectly fine, but still slightly disappointing. Just not quite right.
It’s a familiar feeling, one he thought he left behind when he came to Samwell. And he hates it.
So, no, he doesn’t go to breakfast with the rest of the defensive line. He usually doesn’t eat breakfast anyway, so it’s just more convenient to grab coffee from Annie’s before class.
He does go to Sunday team brunch, because he’s not an idiot, and also because Bitty doesn’t accept any excuses for missing it, other than literally being too sick to get out of bed. But there he can stick to Chowder’s side and laugh with him when Nursey knocks over the orange juice and Shitty ends up with whipped cream in his moustache. There, he and Nursey aren’t a pale imitation of Holster and Ransom. They’re part of the frogs, their own little unit, and that helps Dex breathe easier.
---
“ Dear Auntie Lovelace,
I’ve recently received an unreciprocated mark, and I’m coming to terms with it. What’s really difficult is that it seems so much harder now to hang out with my friends who have met their soulmates and the ones who are still waiting because it feels like they won’t get it. How do I keep my mark from ruining all my other relationships?
Signed, UnreMarkable
Dear UnreMarkable,
First, I’m sorry to hear about your mark, but all is not lost! Be sure to check the missed connection sites and other places for someone who might be looking for you. Second, kudos to you for making your other relationships a priority. Platonic connections are just as important as romantic ones, soulmate or not, and should be treated as such. If you’re finding it difficult to be with soulmate pairs, and understandably so, try hanging out with your friends one-on-one. Above all, try to remember what it was like before you received your mark. Your mark may be unreciprocated, but your friendships are not.
Yours, Auntie Lovelace” – Auntie Lovelace’s Advice Column , Young & Markless Magazine
It’s not until midway through the semester, and after a lecture from Ransom and Holster on the importance of ‘D-Men Bonding™’, that Dex is able to admit to himself that constantly sniping at Nursey probably isn’t going to help them get along any better.
Unfortunately, every time he tries to talk to Nursey seems to end in a fight, which is why the only way they’ve been able to spend time together recently is by studying in complete silence. Eventually, Dex decides he has to try a different route.
He stops by Annie’s on his way to the library and gets some ridiculous seasonal drink that smells like a candy bar in addition to his usual black coffee. He has to resist the impulse to throw it out the whole walk from Annie’s, through Founder’s, and to the secluded tables in the back of the library, but then he would have wasted money and have nothing to show for it, so instead he just shoves it in Nursey’s face when he arrives at their usual table.
“What’s this?”
Dex doesn’t even bother fighting the instinct to roll his eyes. “It’s coffee. Or it used to be, before they added an ungodly amount of sugar and caramel.”
“Okay,” Nursey says slowly. “And…you got it for me?”
“That does seem to be the most likely explanation for me holding a coffee that I’m certainly not going to drink.”
“…Why?”
“Jesus Christ. Just take the damn coffee or I’m going to throw it out.”
Nursey takes the coffee in the end, and Dex pretends that his knuckles don’t tingle where they’ve been stained orange at his touch. It’s just a few shades darker than Dex’s hair and rich in pigment.
Dex watches him take a sip and looks away when he realizes his gaze is stuck around Nursey’s mouth. He sits himself down and opens his laptop, only looking up again when he feels the back of his neck prickle the way it does when someone’s watching him.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Nursey puts the coffee down and goes back to highlighting and writing in the margins of his book. “Thanks for the coffee, Poindexter.”
Dex grunts. “Don’t mention it.”
It’s the most civil exchange they’ve had in weeks. Somewhere, Chowder starts crying with joy and doesn’t know why.
---
More than anything else, Dex communicates through actions. He’s not the kind of person who can read between the lines and understand the hidden meaning behind someone’s words, it’s just too much fucking effort and it gives him a headache. He knows that this means he can be blunt and unpolished, awkward at expressing himself and oblivious to everything but the most blatant of messages. But he also recognizes that the rest of the world communicates just fine with words where he does better with gestures and favors.
So, after his coffee offer, he’s a little worried Nursey won’t understand the apology it was meant to be. The text thread between him and Nursey discussing (read: arguing over) the best flavor of muffin and the double chocolate chip muffin that’s waiting for Dex at his seat in the library the next time he arrives say otherwise.
He thanks Nursey all the same. He’s not an animal.
---
Dex walks into his thrice weekly chemistry gen-ed fifteen minutes early, as is his habit, and finds his seat safely in the middle section of seats, about halfway up, at the end of a row.
He sits down and places his bag in the seat next to him, one of the left-handed ones on the end, in what is definitely not his habit. He shakes his head when people ask if the seat is free, even though it makes his cheeks heat and the back of his neck prickle.
The only thing that matters is that it’s still free when Nursey slinks into the lecture hall, about thirty seconds before the lecture is supposed to start. Dex watches him look around, descending the awkwardly spaced stairs into the auditorium, and raises a hand to get his attention. He’s able to catch the surprise that flickers across Nursey’s face before it settles into that chill smirk, which for some reason doesn’t make Dex want to punch him nearly as much as usual.
The quiet ‘thanks’ he gets when Nursey drops into his seat makes something uncomfortably warm clench in his chest.
---
“Don’t let being unreciprocated stop you from forming and nurturing other relationships in your life. You are worthy of love regardless of your soulmate status, and you will find other people who feel the same. And anyone who feels differently doesn’t deserve to be a part of your life.” – Emile Laroux , A Selection of Uncomfortable Truths About Soulbonds
The third time Chowder makes a considering noise under his breath, loud enough to be heard over the low-fi Dex has playing, he rips out his headphones and snaps, “What?”
Chowder jumps and looks over at him in surprise and then admonishment when his hot cocoa spills out of the mug and over his hand. “ What what?”
“Why do you keep making that noise?” Dex looks over to where Chowder’s gaze was previously stuck. “Did Bitty do something? Is someone messing with Jack?”
“Oh! Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Chowder swings his gaze across the crowded tables that clutter the floorspace of Annie’s to where Jack and Bitty are sitting in a corner, sharing coffee and conversation. Dex watches Jack say something that makes Bitty cackle. “Just...do you think they’re…? You know.”
“Jack and Bitty?” Dex keeps watching, sees Bitty smack at Jack for something he said, laughing. He sees how it makes Jack’s face light up with a smile that they rarely see, and definitely never this big or bright. “Actually, maybe.”
Chowder gasps, “Oh my gosh !” and does a small happy dance in his chair. “Wouldn’t that be great? Dex, what if they were soulmates ?”
Dex rolls his eyes. “They can be dating without being soulmates, Chowder. Not everyone meets their soulmate during syllabus week like you did.”
Chowder blushes and opens his mouth to respond, but his thought gets cut off when Nursey drops into the chair next to him. Nursey’s eyes are bright and he’s bundled up heavily against what is, at worst, a late fall chill. Dex finds it hard to look at him for too long.
“Hey. What’re we talking about?” Nursey starts to shuck the numerous jackets he’s wearing. Dex notices a flash of familiar flannel.
“Is that mine?”
Nursey looks down at the green flannel shirt he’s sporting and crosses his arms defensively. “Maybe. But seriously, what are you staring at?”
“Jack and Bitty! They’ve gotten really close, and they’re flirting .” Chowder finishes with a whisper and gestures with what he probably thinks is subtlety towards the side of the café where Jack and Bitty still sit. “We’re wondering if they’re soulmates. ”
Dex rolls his eyes and catches Nursey doing the same. Nursey flicks him a grin and says, “Chill, C. Not everything is soulmates and rainbows.”
“You two are lame. I’m just saying it might be nice! Plus, I think they’re cute.” Chowder huffs, breaking into a smile when Dex laughs at his pouting.
Nursey shakes his head good-naturedly and takes out a beaten-up novel and a pen. He looks at Dex and smiles, small but real. He turns his gaze back to Chowder and something in Dex’s chest expands when he says, “Soulmates aren’t everything, C.”
---
“Hey.”
Dex looks over at Nursey, sprawled next to him on the couch, then back to the Mario Kart racecourse on the screen. “What?”
“I just noticed something.”
“Is it that you’re losing?” Dex mashes a button and feels a spike of vindictive pleasure when Holster starts swearing loudly after being hit with a red shell.
“Shut up. Damn it.” Ransom laughs at him as Nursey falls off a cliff again. “No, something else.”
“What is it?” Dex looks over once Shy Guy has crossed the finish line, securing his position in first place. Nursey’s just driving in circles now, much to the game’s dismay.
Nursey looks over at him with a wicked little smile and says, “My soul color matches your eyes.”
Dex sputters and almost falls off of the couch. “ What ?”
“It does, look!” He draws a smiley face on the back of Dex’s hand. “See? Your eyes are a bit lighter, more amber than burnt sienna ,” he laughs at the way it makes Dex scowl, “but they’re almost the same.”
He’s not wrong, but that’s not what catches Dex’s eye. Rather, it’s the richness left in the little mark on his hand, so much stronger and more vibrant than when they first met, a depth that speaks of lasting connection and a significant relationship.
Dex stares at him in silence, jaw dropped, while Ransom and Holster argue over the legality of mushroom usage. “Are you high?”
Nursey hums. “Yeah, a little bit. But it’s true.” He reaches out and drags the thumb of his left hand slowly over Dex’s cheekbone. “See? It matches. Really brings out the color of your eyes.”
Dex tries to respond but all the breath has suddenly left his lungs.
Nursey taps his fingers against Dex’s cheek and mutters, “pretty,” before hauling himself off of the couch and into the kitchen.
Dex watches him go and tries to remember how to breathe.
---
“Hey, Dex? Can you help me with something?”
Dex sighs and says, “sure,” before setting his bag down by the stairs and joining Bitty in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long, but Dex has already gotten a reputation for being pretty handy, which is useful in a place as old as the Haus. Between the temperamental washing machine and how finicky the oven has been, he’s become the go-to person for repairs.
So, when he enters the kitchen and Bitty points him towards a ball of dough, it’s a pleasant surprise. They spend some time in silence, Dex rolling out pie dough while Bitty makes a quick filling, blueberries, ginger, lime, and a little sugar going into a mixing bowl. Bitty hands Dex a glass pie pan and he carefully lifts the crust and settles it delicately in the dish.
“So,” Bitty says, casually, “You and Nursey seem to be getting along better, these days.”
Dex twitches and his finger rips a hole in the bottom of the dough. “Uh, yeah. I guess so. We haven’t been fighting as much, if that’s what you mean.”
Bitty pushes the bowl of filling at him and takes over repairing the dough, working some magic so it looks as though it was never ripped at all. “Sure, honey, that can be what I mean.”
“Well, it hasn’t been easy. I mean, sometimes it’s like he’s trying to be the most irritating person on the planet.” Dex frowns at the filling and stirs it a bit more. “But I know I can be really stubborn and argumentative sometimes. I’ve been working on my temper, and on not being so quick to yell. And it turns out, when we’re not arguing, and even sometimes when we are, he’s not the worst person to be around. He’s funny, and our arguments don’t feel so mean anymore. It’s strange, and I’m not really sure what it means. But, yeah. What was the question, again?”
“Mmm. I saw y’all at Annie’s the other day. Looked like you’ve been getting pretty close.” Bitty motions for Dex to add the filling, then starts laying strips of crust in a flawless lattice pattern. Dex turns to grab the egg wash from the fridge.
“Yeah, I guess so. We have been spending a lot of time together, between hockey and the Haus and the class we have together.” He watches as Bitty crimps the edges of the crust perfectly, fingers flying delicately around the edge of the pan. Dex takes time to dab on the egg wash in careful strokes, feeling ungainly and graceless in comparison. “Bitty?”
“Yes?”
Silence hangs in the kitchen for a few moments, Dex frowning at his hands where he’s washing the egg off of them. “Do you ever feel like the thing you want most is something you aren’t meant to have?”
“Oh, honey.” Bitty puts a hand on his arm and looks up at him, brown eyes brimming with solemn understanding. “Yeah, I do.”
“Oh, good. That’s good to know.” Dex huffs a weak laugh and goes to get his bag. “I’ve got to get to the library, but thanks for letting me help. It was fun.”
“Anytime. And Dex,” Bitty pauses, leaning against the sink with a dish towel in his hands, “Even if things feel hopeless, they’ll work themselves out eventually. And there’s some comfort to be found in that, even if it’s not the outcome you want.”
Dex nods and murmurs another “thanks” before making a hasty exit back out into the chilly afternoon. There’s something weird about the vibes in the kitchen.
---
“A new dating app from the creators of ‘ColorWheel’ was announced today: SwatchMatch! Have you ever wondered if you marked someone without knowing? Been to concerts, amusement parks, or in airports and possibly felt the jolt? Upload a picture of your soul color and we’ll help people who are unreciprocated find their matches! Post a picture of your own mark and where you were marked, and we’ll help you find your marker! SwatchMatch: Reveal your true colors!” – a press release on the launch of a new app, SwatchMatch.
“Dude, what the hell is this?”
Dex freezes in place, immobile beneath Holster’s finger poking at the edges of his soulmate mark. “Uh – “
“I don’t know anyone with this color.” Holster keeps frowning at his shoulder, where his whole hand is now up Dex’s t-shirt, pushing it up and baring the whole mark. “Rans, get your spreadsheet out. We’ve got a color to cross-reference.” Ransom bounds over to the kitchen table, overjoyed at any opportunity to show off his massive Excel file.
“Can you – can you not?” Dex pushes Holster’s face away, swats Ransom’s fingers from his shoulder in a futile attempt to get them both to back off. “Get off, what the fuck?”
“Why are we fondling Dex?” Nursey pokes his head into the kitchen. Great. This is the last thing Dex needs right now. “And more importantly, why wasn’t I invited?”
“Dex, I’m hurt,” Ransom says, amused, while scrolling through his multi-page spreadsheet. Nursey comes over his shoulder and frowns at the database, and then back at Dex. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this from us this whole time.”
“Yeah, man. Why wouldn’t you tell us about your soulmate? We wouldn’t have given you too much hell if you hadn’t hidden it from us for so long. Who’s the lucky – uh, person?”
“Dex has a soulmate? I can’t believe –” Nursey reaches out to touch his mark too, adding dark orange to the bright green and sky blue that already pepper the edges of the muddy maroon mark, and that’s the last fucking straw.
“I don’t !” Dex stands up and shoves himself sharply back from the table.
“Woah, hey, calm down, dude.” Nursey pulls his hands back, like he’s afraid of being burned. Nursey’s expression isn’t quite as conciliatory, there’s some kind of harsh glee in his eyes as he watches Dex lose his cool. “We’re just asking.”
“Well, stop. It’s none of your fucking business, anyway.” He grabs his bag and shoulders his way past Holster, out of the kitchen. He almost runs into Bitty, slamming himself back into the doorframe to avoid a collision. He can feel the bruise that’s going to bloom up his spine as he mumbles an apology and shoulders his way out of the house, but he’s not really sure what he’s apologizing for, or to whom. He just.
More than anything, he thought Holster and Ransom would understand, since their platonic marking is atypical, too. He expected that one of them would have realized that if he hadn’t talked about his soulmate by now, it probably wasn’t something he wanted to share.
He thought he would have more time before they poked and prodded at him like a sideshow attraction. He thought he’d be able to explain on his own terms without them making stupid assumptions. He thought they cared enough about him to ask, rather than trying to fill in the gaps themselves.
He should have known better.
---
He tried to date a little in high school, mostly after he got his soulmark.
He says ‘tried’ because it turns out that people in his tiny, largely Catholic town in the backwoods of Maine don’t really want to date someone else’s soulmate. And they’re not shy about telling him so, either.
Emma explains gently that she doesn’t want to be stepping on anyone’s toes before kissing his cheek and leaving.
Tim laughs and says he doesn’t want anyone coming to beat him up for encroaching on their territory.
Danielle cuts him off and declares flat out that she’s not interested in marrying someone else’s soulmate, so there’s no point in even trying.
He has tried again while at Samwell, but it’s only slightly better. It’s not hard to find someone to hook up with at kegsters when it’s too dark to notice that one of his marks is uncommonly dark and fluid, but no one wants anything to do with him long-term once they find out he’s unreciprocated.
He hasn’t tried to actively hide from the team, but he definitely didn’t bring it up himself, either, and before Holster pried, no one had said anything. He’s pretty sure anyone who saw it thought it was a birthmark.
Now he has ten separate texts in his phone from members of the team, asking him about the mark, or pointedly not asking him about it, or inviting him back to the Haus for pie. He ignores them all, even the one in the group chat from Jack, ordering everyone to leave him alone unless Dex wants to talk about it and hides in his dorm room with headphones and homework.
He’s annoyed with himself for noticing that there’s no text from Nursey.
---
It takes Nursey a full week to corner him, but that might just be because it’s nearly finals season and everyone is stupid busy.
“You know, I’ve met my soulmate.”
Dex grits his teeth and doesn’t look up from his calculus textbook, no matter how much of a Pavlovian response he’s developed in reaction to that voice. “Funnily enough, I don’t care.”
“Her name is Nadiya.” Dex focuses on the equations so completely that he’s certain he’ll never forget a single variable, just to keep from remarking that they’ve all seen Nursey’s soul mark, a small, delicate thing near Nursey’s temple in a light shade of periwinkle. Like someone was trying to brush Nursey’s curls out of his eyes, trying to stop him from hiding behind them the way he does when he’s anxious or feeling exposed. Nursey flops down at the table anyway, jostling it enough to send one of Dex’s pencils tumbling to the floor. Dex scowls at it as he bends to pick it up, since that’s the better option than looking at Nursey’s stupid face. “She goes to school in California.”
There’s no single reality where Dex wants to have this conversation right now. He starts shoving his books into his bag and snarls, “I still don’t care.”
“Dex, will you – just stop .” Nursey’s hand knots in the strap of Dex’s bag, holding him there. Dex stares fixedly at the overlapping colors that cover Nursey’s skin instead of looking him in the face. He can spot Chowder’s bright teal, smudges of Bitty’s gold from slapping his hand away from something probably too hot to eat, and everywhere his own dark green, green, green, hiding at the hollows of Nursey’s wrist and elbow and the spaces between his fingers. It makes something bitter and harsh in him soften, and he tightens his fists in an effort to keep himself held together. “Stop and listen to me. I’m trying to tell you that I understand.”
Dex flicks his gaze up to meet Nursey’s pleading expression. “Oh, you do, do you?” His voice comes out harsh and cold in a way that’s completely alien to him.
“ Yes. I always thought that meeting my soulmate would be like finding the missing piece of my heart, but Nadiya’s not that person for me. And that’s okay! I’m not that person for her, either. We’re better off doing our own things and being our own people. It doesn’t make us wrong, or unnatural.”
“That’s great, Nursey, I’m really happy for you.” Dex tugs again and wrenches his bag out of Nursey’s grip. “Really, I’m just so happy you and your soulmate were able to clear that up. I was on the edge of my seat.”
“You’re impossible to talk to, Poindexter, do you know that? You’re so fucking hardheaded sometimes, I’m just trying to tell you that I get it –“
“ No . You don’t get it. ” Dex whips back around to face Nursey, hissing instead of yelling in deference to the fact that they’re in a fucking library where people are trying to study, Derek Nurse, so you shouldn’t go around shouting at people. “You had a choice , and you chose not to be together. And really, I don’t give two fucks what you decide to do about your love life, Nurse, because it doesn’t really involve me.”
“Fine, but you’re clearly sensitive about it!” Nursey throws up his hands and ignores the people glaring at them because he’s a heathen who shouts in libraries. Thankfully, he doesn’t resist when Dex drags him out the door so they don’t get kicked out, because while Dex is reasonably sure he could have bodily picked him up and moved him, that’s probably not a great idea right now. “You think we’re not going to get that it’s a delicate subject? Look around, Poindexter, it’s sensitive for all of us. Jack’s going to play in the NHL, Bits has his own issues, Ransom and Holster are doing some weird mating dance that even I don’t understand, no one except Chow has the perfect Hallmark movie ending! No one cares that you have some kind of fucked up relationship with your mark; we care about you and want to make sure you’re okay! If anything, we’re the ones who are going to get what you’re going through, because we’re going through the same things.”
Dex bites out, “We are not the same,” and he’s almost snarling again, pissed off in an achy, vulnerable way only Nursey can drag out of him. He turns and starts to leave, because he still has fucking homework to do, even if his teammates are hunting him down to try and get him to talk about his feelings .
“You’re not special , okay?” Nursey bursts out, causing Dex’s knees to lock up, halting him in his tracks. “You’re not the only one with baggage and having your own special heartache because your soulmate died, or something, doesn’t give you a right to be a dick when we’re just trying to get to know you.”
Dex stares out over the quad and considers, just for a moment, leaving this where Nursey has dropped it, but he can’t. He’s never been one to back down from a fight, and he’s sure as fuck not going to start now. He turns back and walks up to Nursey. Dex doesn’t quite know what his face is doing, but whatever it is makes Nursey’s eyes go wide, and the crinkles in his forehead soften. The uncertainty Dex sees there makes his heart break, or he thinks it would if it didn’t feel like a solid lump of ice in his chest.
“You think I don’t know that?” The question is very quiet. If there were more than six inches between him and Nursey, it probably wouldn’t be audible. “I know I’m not special. Believe me, that’s the one thing I do know. I’m not special, I’m not wanted, I’m not good enough. That’s the difference between you and me, Nurse. You got to sit and talk with your soulmate, to try out your relationship and decide together that no, it wasn’t for you. I never got the chance to be anything to anyone. I never had the option to say no, I never had a choice in the first place. I tried so hard for so long to find my soulmate after it happened, I didn’t stop searching for years. I made flyers, I wrote posts on every social media site you can think of, I asked people I knew who had been there if they knew anyone that matched my color. I tried so damn hard to at least have a goddamn conversation with the person who permanently marked me, who was supposed to be my other half, and they didn’t show up. They ignored everything I did, because they didn’t want to bother, or they weren’t looking for me. They left me behind, and I’m the one who has to wear this stupid, unfinished mark forever because they didn’t want to try.
“So no, we’re not the same, Nursey. And I’m not mad because you got a choice. I’m thrilled ,” he bites the word out between gritted teeth, “that you were able to choose. I hope it’s made you both happy. But that doesn’t give you the right to force your way into my business, to remind me how not special I am.” He steps back and takes a breath, once again avoiding Nursey’s eyes. “I already know that.”
“Dex,” Nursey’s voice is weak and strained, completely void of any of its usual chill.
“Just leave me alone, Nursey. I don’t want to talk about it.” He turns and walks as fast as he can away from the whole embarrassing conversation, ducking into the engineering building to hide. He takes a minute, sitting on the floor of an empty classroom, to wipe his face and slow his breathing. Just a minute, because he really does have a calc problem set due in a few hours and he’s certainly not going back to Founder’s. That library is fucking cursed.