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Years ago, the universe had been kind enough to tell you who your soulmate was.
Sure, she was sly with it, hiding names and faces in a kind of delicious tension, waiting until the lovers came of age or touched their beloved to reveal the kindred spirits, the soulbonds, that it had created eons ago and finally brought to realization.
But the world had turned to normalcy, as far as Karl knew. The universe had sunk into a dormant state.
No one waited up til midnight on their 18th birthday anymore, hoping the universe gave them a sign as to who they were destined to spend their life with. No one went sprinting to mages, hoping they could decode the date and symbol that had appeared on their arm overnight. No one was visited by spiritual messengers, no one was haloed by rings of fire.
Soulmates--and their signature signs--were a thing of the past. No ink on anyone’s skin, no colors changing, tingling touches. None of it.
Karl’s parents had met organically, college rivals turned sweethearts. A few of his friends had found significant others, and seemed quite happy with their matches sans any magical rigamarole.
Karl himself never hoped for anything wild--he just wanted love, plain and simple. There were nights his heart deflated a little, when he was studying too late and awake too long, the tug in his chest reminding him that he was lonely. It would twitch when he watched his friends sit close on couches, recite their significant other’s coffee order, when he had to watch fingers interlock, hands that weren’t his fitting like puzzle pieces. Whenever he saw a quick cheek kiss or beaming, bashful smile, Karl would look away, feeling himself sink into the familiar wasteland of third wheeling.
He never prioritized a relationship, though. Karl didn’t spend time searching--there were always other things more time-sensitive, more urgent than finding a lover. He didn’t pursue it.
So the universe grew exasperated.
That’s why, walking home, head down and headphones in, Karl quite literally bumped into his soulmate.
Had he looked up a good quarter mile before, he might’ve noticed the other boy heading his direction. This boy held his position on the sidewalk like a challenge, all dark jeans and grey hoodie, the kind of casual that was a statement, an imposition. He’d been watching Karl from under his eyelashes, calculating their paths against Karl’s pace. Headphones in, Karl was on another planet, no eyes at all for his surroundings, and that’s how his shoulder collided sharply with the strange boy.
The kid made a noise, sloshing Monster out of the can he was holding. He grabbed Karl’s arm to steady himself, and Karl looked into his face, startled.
“Oh--oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t notice you!” Karl’s hand flew to his mouth, eyes widening.
The stranger had an easy smile, and blessed Karl with it in reassurance. “All good, kid. I wondered if you were ever going to look up. Head in the clouds?”
Karl had no answer but a nod, and the stranger chuckled, throwing back another sip of his beverage.
“No damage done, unless you count the drink. There’s two sips on the ground I’ll never get back.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Karl floundered for something to say, some way to make it up to him, but to his surprise, the boy winked.
“I carry backups,” he said, easily, slipping his hand into the backpack he wore, and extracting a can. Passing it to Karl, he threw the startled boy one last smile, and strode down the sidewalk on his way.
Karl stood a moment, collecting his scattered thoughts. The kid wasn’t hurt, and he wasn’t upset about the collision. He was also really cute. Floppy dark hair spilling over a white headband, the assurance in his strides. The brief moment of eye contact had been lightning to Karl’s starving soul; the boy’s eyes looked as if they would tease him through any conversation, quiet and quick.
Karl sighed, and forced himself to table the thought. He didn’t even know that boy. He didn't have time to fall in love with strangers.
Until the world burst into color.
~~~
The morning began like so many before, soft light filtering in from the window over his bed, bathing his blankets and sheets in sunlight. Karl opened his eyes, sleepily, and yawned as he padded over to the window.
With a start, he opened his eyes wider, and pulled up the shade fully.
Had grass always been that green?
The color he’d called green...it was still there, but it was a thousand times more intense, more vibrant. Next to this carpet of color, in his mom’s garden, tulips waved in the breeze, a soft ombre of pinks and oranges, colors that looked bright enough to burn.
Those flowers were the stuff of poetry. Sonnets made sense now, the reverence in books suddenly purposeful. He had no idea how--for years--he’d been oblivious. This was color .
Slowly, he turned his eyes to the Monster can that sat on his dresser. It was a brilliant blue, now, and, almost in a haze, Karl seized it and cracked it open. Engineered mango flavor flooded his tongue, and when he closed his eyes, all he could see was dark hair.
This couldn’t be happening.
~~~
It isn’t happening , he convinced himself as he walked to his class. Maybe he’d woken up more rested than usual. Maybe the sun was a little brighter, the sky clearer. There had to be a reasonable explanation.
Two weeks passed, and Karl stopped marveling at the clarity of the color that surrounded him, the absence of darkness and greys. Awash in classes and time spent with his friends, he forgot the interaction with the boy on the sidewalk, and grew complacent about his new way of seeing the world. Karl was stubborn, and bit by bit, he forgot that it was special.
The universe rolled its eyes, and tried again.
~~~
He’d refused to let the color mystery wrack him any longer, sure, but he’d spent the hours of both daylight and darkness editing videos and in VC with his friends. Now his sanity was paying the price.
A walk had been in order. He pushed the door open and headed down that same sidewalk from a few weeks ago, hands in his pockets. His path was aimless, no destination coming to the forefront of his mind. He made it to the end of the block and was turning to head back to his house, when a whistle sounded to his left. Turning, he was met with the same easy grin from the day of the collison.
“Hey!” the boy was shouting. “C’mere!”
He was sitting on the curb with his feet on a skateboard, moving it idly back and forth. Karl crossed the street, and the boy popped up to stand next to him.
“Sapnap,” he offered, holding out a hand. Karl dapped him up, dropping a nod in acknowledgement.
“I’m Karl.”
“Karl, nice to meet you. What’s up? You look stressed, man.”
Karl shrugged, cracking his neck. “I just needed some movement, I guess. Been working at my desk all day.”
Sapnap nodded, still kicking the skateboard from side to side with his foot. He looked up with a glimmer in his eye. “Wanna try something?”
“You mean skateboarding? I’ve done it.”
“Prove your skills then.”
Karl was not about to stop to tell Sapnap that the last time he skated was probably fourth grade, and he’d gotten several feet taller and several times clumsier since then. Undeterred, he stuck his foot out and stole the board from under Sapnap. One step onto it and he lost his balance--waving his arms out to his sides like a six year old girl on a balance beam.
Sapnap chuckled. “Not...like that, exactly. Don’t go in with both feet right away, idiot.”
Karl stared straight ahead, heat flushing his cheeks. He hardly felt Sapnap step up behind him until the boy’s hands were on his waist.
His waist. His hips. That wasn’t a salacious place. The feeling of Sapnap’s fingers, lightly guiding Karl’s posture, shouldn’t have sent dull shocks up Karl’s spine, but they were there nonetheless.
A deep breath, and they’ll go away.
A deep breath, and Sapnap’s voice was by his ear. “Put one foot down, just try to go straight…”
Karl laughed softly. “Not possible.” He felt, more than saw, Sapnap’s responding eye roll.
“Fair enough. Try to move forward, though. It’s easy.” He gave Karl what was probably meant as a gentle push, but with the absence of his fingers and the sudden change in balance, the newbie skidded and ate pavement.
“Better luck next time?” Sapnap smirked, offering a hand to help him up. Karl accepted.
Where their fingers met, his hand chilled, as if someone was pouring cool water over his palm. It felt like the first time he’d trailed his fingers through an ocean wave, like the times he’d grab a popsicle out of the freezer as a kid (Hell, he still did that, all the time).
He glanced down at his hand, and watched in horror as a dark red stain spread from his palm over his fingers.
Sapnap was bent over, kicking up the board, and Karl took advantage of his distraction to pull his hoodie sleeve over the mark.
“I’ve got to go.”
Sapnap blinked at him. “Something wrong? You can try till you get it.”
“No--yeah--I just have to go.”
He turned on his heel and bolted for his house.
~~~
The bathroom sink was a poor therapist, the mirror only slightly better, as Karl held his darkened palm up to it, staring at the mark that wrapped around his thumb and the back of his hand.
The color outside, the newfound vibrancy to his surroundings, he could excuse. He had explained it away a thousand times. But this was a soulmate mark, he was almost sure of it.
A soulmate mark. Which no one had gotten for decades. Possibly centuries.
Why him?
He knew he ought to be ecstatic that he had met someone, and a cute one, no less. But the magic felt volatile, unpredictable, and unsafe. Why had it just appeared? What?
Clammy with sweat, he tugged off his sweatshirt, and then groaned into his hands, because on his hips were two identical marks--that same dark, dark red--exactly where Sapnap’s hands had been.
They could be bruises. He reasoned. I did fall .
Bruises in the shape of handprints? Bruises that reminded him of sensual touch and an easygoing smile?
Yeah, right.
~~~
Sapnap prided himself on the fact that he slept deeply.
Not much disturbed him, not noise, not light, not temperature, so it was odd that he sat bolt upright with a gasp that night, feeling his right arm go completely numb.
He shook it, switching to annoyed. He’d probably just been laying on it, and it had fallen asleep. There were even those pillow-scar marks, the indents from where the bunched-up blanket had been pressed up against it...he turned on the light to see better.
What if he’s my soulmate? He marked me.
The words tickled as they blossomed over Sapap’s inner forearm, prickling slightly as they darkened.
Not pillow scars. Those were words.
There was no way someone was writing that on their arm.
The tingles came again, blooming almost hesitantly.
I want to see him again. I need to see him again. He’s so cute.
Soulmate.
Help.
No one would scrawl such disjointed, inner feelings on their arm, no way. The lines sounded like...they reminded him of...thoughts.
Sapnap’s arms were tattooed with Karl’s thoughts.
~~~
Call it embarrassment, call it fear, but neither boy spoke of the marks he’d caused the other. They didn’t see, either--favoring hoodies or flannels on the days they saw each other. Summer surrendered to the beginning of autumn, and the skateboard was left in Sapnap’s trunk as he drove into classes. Too conveniently, Karl was in several of those classes.
They sat together. They studied together. Neither spoke.
~~~
The universe reasoned that those clues had been too passive. The clues, this time, were hidden under layers of fabric. (She’d nudge them in that direction later--they weren’t ready to start tearing each other’s clothes off.)
She’d give them another go.
~~~
If no one else was going to use the fine china, Karl would eat cinnamon toast crunch off of it. It wasn’t his first bowl, either, but what were Sundays for if not multiple bowls of sugar-bomb cereal off the best Grandma’s china cupboard had to offer? The bright blue hydrangea border only highlighted his poor nutritional choices.
He sat cross legged on his couch with the bowl in his lap, munching away almost mindlessly. Sapnap had told him that he’d be out of town for the whole weekend, visiting family. Karl seized the infrequent opportunity to rest (read: rot) in front of the TV.
When the Netflix episode ended and he had finished the last pieces, he stood up with a huff to carry the bowl to the sink. His throat protested the inhalation of air with a tickle, a cough building deep in his chest. He coughed once into his elbow, and then twice.
The feeling didn’t clear.
He walked a few more feet toward the kitchen and the action made him breathless, pulling him to the back of a chair for support, as his face bloomed red and the incessant cough started to sharpen, hurting his throat. He attempted to take control of his breathing, forcing the coughs out systematically, but that only caused the fit to become worse. In an attempt to regain some oxygen, he bent over and placed his hands on his knees.
The bowl slipped out of his grasp, hitting the floor with a tinny smash, scattering shards of the floral ceramic border all over the floor.
All of a sudden, the coughing fit stopped. Karl wheezed a few times to catch his breath, and then stared in disappointment at the floor.
He went to grab a dustpan and broom.
~~~
The coughing resumed a few times over the next couple of days, but infrequently enough that Karl chalked it up to a seasonal cold.
As the days moved on, though, the attacks got more frequent.
They happened most often during classes. Karl would walk in, take his seat beside Sapnap, and start barking like a seal. More than once he stepped out of the room until he could get it under control. Each time he reentered, caught the dark-haired boy’s eye, and shrugged.
“Allergies.”
More and more, though, he became winded by the coughing, oxygen deserting him. He found himself making excuses as to why he wasn’t showing up at Sapnap’s to skate, why they weren’t studying, why he hadn’t seen Sapnap in two days, three, a week.
The universe rolled her eyes, and sent Karl roses.
~~~
He was playing Jackbox with Dream and George when it actually happened. Both of his friends had seen one of the coughing fits by now. They had checked on him, concerned, but when Karl proved he showed no other symptoms like a fever or aches, they too had shrugged, mentioned something about air quality, and continued with their afternoon gaming sessions.
They were in the final lap, Dream’s avatar spiraling out yards behind them, and Karl and George neck and neck for the victory.
“You’re dogwater !” Karl crowed, resisting the urge to physically elbow George to throw him off track. The other boy was seated on the floor at Dream’s feet, tongue between his teeth as he tilted his controller.
Karl’s avatar picked up a sabotage, holding it primed to throw. “Take that, you monster!” he yelled, moving the controller ever so slightly to deal maximum damage to George’s character.
Or he would’ve, had another cough not wracked his body.
This one was different then usual. Instead of the dry, subtle pain of the earlier attacks, these coughs made Karl’s throat burn . More than that, they bordered on retching, the noise turning into a sort of choking gag. Horrified, he threw the controller down on the couch and ran to the bathroom sink. Clenching the sides with white knuckles, he continued to choke into the basin, panicked. His windpipe felt blocked with something, and the coughs and gags wouldn’t let up until it was expelled. Karl squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pain away, as one final heave left a bitter and burning taste in his mouth. He spit into the sink, watching blood and saliva mingle with…
Was that a flower petal?
~~~
All Karl begged for was dreamless sleep, something comforting, quieting, after the distress the sickness was working on his body, the anxiety from deserting his new friend.
The universe did not want to be thought of as cruel, but she could not leave his mind empty.
He dreamt of Sapnap.
~~~
The dream--nightmare, really--was recurring. Karl saw it in his mind’s eye so many times that week that he could play it like a movie in his head.
It started at the park, with both on opposite ends. Sapnap’s face split into a huge grin, and he would start running toward Karl. Karl let the wind blow away his laughter, and sprinted toward his boyfriend, because that’s what Sapnap was in this dream.
They met in the middle in a wild embrace, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if love could only be expressed through very deep pressure.
“You’re here,” Karl always whispered.
“Only for you,” was the constant reply, said with a smile as bright as the new colors Karl could see. He buried his face in Sapnap’s shoulder, drawing him tighter.
When he finally raised his head, it was to say the crucial words.
“I love you, Sapnap.”
He was rewarded each time with a kiss, blissful and soft, before the thorns blistered and broke out of his very skin. In nightmarish fashion, his fingers became the harsh stems of rose bushes, thick, spiny, and angry, twining themselves around Sapnap’s body. Other parts of him started to dissolve, too, he never paid attention to which. Leafy, choking vines settled over Sapnap’s arms, his hands, trapping him both in Karl’s embrace and in the clutch of some arboreal monster.
He always tried to say it, tried to convey his feelings toward Karl. Each time he got a little closer, I--, then I lov-- , then I love y-- , but each time, the vines encircled him, slapping and tightening themselves against his mouth, his throat, choking him.
Karl woke up, sweating, the feeling of the vines real and horrifying.
Sapnap, blocks away in a different house and a different bed, woke up to the familiar feeling of tingles that meant he would see into Karl’s thoughts.
Sapnap rolled over and flicked on the light, then raised his hands to watch, as vines and thorns in deep green, and roses in vivid red, inked themselves down his arms.
He couldn’t sleep the rest of the night.
~~~
It had been easier when he could read Karl’s thoughts, Sapnap knew. Knowing what the other boy was thinking had been, a comfort. But the roses--the thorns--didn’t replace themselves with words when he woke up in the morning. Karl had been MIA for days on end.
He respected his space. He understood. Everything about the situation freaked him out just as much as it did Karl, but he couldn’t keep his silence any longer.
His knock on Karl’s front door was opened by the palest version of the boy he’d ever seen. Karl looked drawn, he looked sick.
It was no excuse, and the words Sapnap had been mulling over as he walked suddenly spilled out.
“Where have you been? No, I changed my mind, don’t answer that. You just dipped, just left me with no explanation. You know that we’re…” He faltered, searching for the right word. “ Linked .”
Karl’s eyes were closed, like he had a headache. If he’d thought that parting from Sapnap had been a bad idea, being near him again was a thousand times worse. The sick feeling was brewing in his stomach, the floral bile moving higher.
“--wake up with vines all up and down my fuckin’ arms and--” Karl clapped a hand over his mouth, dashing toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going ?” Sapnap thundered, following him on quick feet. He rounded the corner, grabbing the doorjam for support, just in time to see Karl retch what looked like a flower’s worth of leaves and petals into the sink.
“Karl…” his voice softened, threatening to drop off altogether. “Karl, you’ve...been like this for weeks?”
Karl nodded, miserable. Sapnap reached forward and pulled a petal off his lips, fingers cool where they pressed against Karl’s mouth.
“You’ve been like this for weeks when there was an easy way to fix it?”
“Easy...way?” Karl echoed weakly, coughing.
“You’ve been hiding this from me, Karl. Clearly you have some idea of who is to blame for this disaster.”
Karl shook his head. “Not really.”
“You have to be kidding. Were you not--no, of course you weren’t listening. My bad.” Sitting up straighter, Sapnap reached for the edge of the dark fabric, and pulled his sweatshirt off of his head. Momentarily distracted by the flash of v-line that the motion had exposed, it took Karl a second to focus on the boy’s arms, both intricately looped with flowers and vines.
“Oh,” Karl breathed, taking in the sight. His eyes widened. “Oh .”
He pulled up the hem of his own shirt and Sapnap sucked in a breath. There, still deep red, were the two distinct handprints on either side of his waist.
“My hands marked you, and somehow you waited to tell me because you were dying ?”
Karl gave a little smile, the vines and thorns receding from their twists around his heart. “I was worried.”
“Worried about what, baby?”
Baby. The pet name made him feel almost as light headed as all the coughing had.
“Worried that you wouldn’t...like me back.”
“Karl, any thought you had about me has appeared inked on my skin. I thought--”
“Stop complaining about how long it took us to get here,” Karl breathed, wrapping a hand around Sapnap’s neck, pulling him closer. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”
Their lips met, and for a moment Karl could only concentrate on how the world regained equilibrium. He felt cooler, lighter, safe. The kiss soothed the nausea, the bitterness of the flowers disappearing as Sapnap took over the kiss, pressing against Karl’s lips over and over. Each motion was a balm, a sort of worship, until Sapnap trailed his mouth from Karl’s lips down his neck, pausing over the edge of his collarbone. He intensified the pressure, adding just a touch of teeth, until Karl was short of breath.
“Don’t you...dare, ah!” Sapnap smiled into the blushing skin as Karl gasped his words. “Don’t you dare--leave marks that Dream and George will see.” Sapnap dipped his head back down, fully intending to do just that, when Karl threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled Sapnap’s face back level with his. “And don’t you even try to make out with me on my bathroom floor.”
They stumbled towards Karl’s room, stopping for longer kisses, then teasing ones as they swung, holding each other, inside the door.
Sapnap spun Karl in front of him, walking the taller boy backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed. With one fluid motion, he pressed a hand to Karl’s shoulder and shoved him down, climbing on top of him to straddle his waist. He brought his lips back down to Karl’s, kissing any coherent thought out of him before asking, low and sultry, “What was that you were saying, about no marks?”
“I…” Karl breathed, distracted by the feeling of Sapnap over him, on top of him.
“Because the universe got to have her fun, leaving your love up and down my skin.” Sapnap whispered, just under Karl’s ear. “Now I want to mark you as mine.”
~~~
Karl must’ve relented, because when the universe dared look in on the two sleeping boys, she found them curled into each other with fingers interlocked. Both their necks and torsos were smattered with bites and bruises, the marks a color as red as roses.