Work Text:
Dan’s tattoo appeared the summer before he left for university. It was simple black text that looked like handwriting - neat with swooping letters, nothing like true typography but still nice to look at -- on the inside of his left wrist. It was plain and unassuming but the words caused Dan a sense of alarm as soon as he saw them. They were small, it was only three full words, but they could mean any number of things and the unlimited possibilities made Dan’s mind race with anxiety and fear.
On the inside of Dan’s left wrist, the tattoo of the first words his soul mate would ever say to him were written: I’m so sorry.
- - -
When a person turned eighteen, a tattoo (sometimes more than one) of the very first words their soul mate would ever say to them appeared on their body, written in the other person’s handwriting. Dan had been expecting more than one tattoo (though he grudgingly admitted that his single mark was interesting) because… well, he didn’t really know why he’d been expecting that. His friend PJ had more than one tattoo (he had four, in fact, though Dan had never seen the fourth one for himself) despite not identifying as polyamorous in any sense of the word. PJ figured out later that he was asexual, so on top of having at least one romantic soul mate, a cute but shy girl named Sophie, and he had three other platonic soul mates: Chris and Jamie, both of whom Dan had met. He hadn't ever met the third one.
(His theory was that in a past life he had been polyamorous and now, to make up for it, he was super asexual which was why he had three platonic soul mates. Dan wasn’t sure how much he believed his friend, but he had to agree that it was an interesting theory.)
Dan was envious of PJ’s tattoos, though, all sweet words (and one rather inappropriate exclamation, thanks to Chris) looped in various places around his body. Dan hid his own single tattoo by wearing long-sleeved shirts and jumpers almost constantly, even in the heat of summer. What good would come of a tattoo that was an apology?
PJ, of course, had wilder and far more optimistic ideas about what it could mean. “They could just bump into you, sure, but it would be cooler if they accidentally killed your house pets or something, or if they accidentally killed you!” he exclaimed over the phone. Dan could picture his friend’s wide, easy grin and cracked a small smile himself.
“Let’s hope I don’t get killed. It sounds like my soul mate’s just really accident-prone, Peej,” Dan replied, rolling his eyes. He was sorting through his bags in his new dorm room, the phone squished between his right ear and shoulder so that his left hand was free to do most of the work.
PJ sighed noisily into Dan’s ear. “Why won’t you have fun with this? It’s a great mystery, Dan! Besides, an accident-prone soul mate really would be the perfect match for you,” he added, laughing.
Dan made a face, both at PJ’s jibe and at the wrinkled black shirt he pulled out of his traveling suitcase; he’d have to iron that later. Tossing it aside, he childishly blew a raspberry into the receiver. “I just wish it was a little more romantic, you know?”
“I know. But hey, there’s nothing that explicitly says it won’t be romantic. In fact, you’re the only one assuming it won’t be.” PJ paused as Dan made a fake retching sound. “Besides, your soul mate’s tattoo probably says something even weirder.”
The first suitcase -- all clothes and shoes, the majority of them black or dark blue in color -- was unpacked. Dan unzipped the second bag that held his electronics: his laptop, video games, consoles, and various cords and chargers. “Mine on them probably says something like ‘I waited years for that?’ or something equally as insulting,” Dan lamented.
PJ laughed too loudly and Dan cringed, switching his phone to his left hand and holding it to his ear as he sat down on the floor, his back pressed against the tiny dorm bed. “That would be your luck, wouldn’t it?” he asked, and Dan almost grimaced. PJ thought he was joking but Dan was mostly serious. “How’s unpacking?” he asked.
Dan shrugged, then remembered that PJ was on the phone and couldn’t actually see him. “It’s all right,” he replied. “Kinda lonely, though. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet that I’m actually at university.”
“That happened to me too.” PJ was a few years older than Dan, in his third year of his studies in a nearby town. “Don’t lock yourself in your room all the time, okay? Make some friends, Dan!” PJ said, and now Dan could hear a bright smile in his voice.
“Sure, mum,” Dan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes so hard he almost felt dizzy.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man!” PJ exclaimed in a shrill falsetto, making Dan laugh into the receiver.
“How’d you know I was doing that?”
“We’ve only been friends since primary school.” That was true: Dan and PJ had grown up in the same neighborhood and walked to school together, then took the bus, then PJ drove the both of them until he left for uni and Dan had to hitch a ride from his mother or another neighbor.
Dan smiled into the phone. “You got me there. I’ve gotta go, Peej, but I’ll call or text you later.”
After they said their goodbyes and Dan had hung up, he slid down until he was lying on the floor, spread-eagle in the small room that was still in various states of unpacked. He turned his head to the left, trying to relieve a crick in his neck, and caught sight of his tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. How would he ever find his soul mate with a stupid tattoo like this? It seemed more like something Dan would say, rather than something that would be said to him. Besides, Dan wasn’t even totally sure how he felt about this whole soul mate shit in the first place -- for one thing, he didn’t know if he even wanted a soul mate. For another thing, he didn’t even know what kind of person he should be looking for: Dan knew he wasn’t exactly straight, but he wouldn’t call himself bisexual, either. All he really knew was that he needed to have a friendship with a person or be close to them platonically before he could even think about dating or fucking them. He didn’t know if that was a real thing or if he was just weird or broken or something.
Dan rolled over onto his stomach and groaned, burying his face in the carpet. He didn’t want to keep unpacking, he didn’t care about it anymore. He just wanted to forget about the stupid tattoo and the very idea of a soul mate. It’s not like he would ever be able to find this person anyway: knowing Dan’s luck, his soul mate had given up and already found someone else.
- - -
It had been half a year since the dreaded tattoo had appeared on Dan’s body and he hadn’t met his soul mate yet. Dan had been doing his best to ignore it and live his life as if he had never gotten the tattoo in the first place. He’d made some really good friends so far and despite completely hating law and the required coursework, Dan was living his life how he felt he should be. And if that didn’t include his soul mate at this point in time, then that was Dan’s own choice, damn it.
PJ, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of the new world view that Dan had taken. The pair were sat in a Starbucks halfway between their individual university towns, which happened to be just outside of Manchester. They were waiting until the line died down before ordering and PJ was trying to make Dan see reason. “Dan, all I’m saying is that you might’ve given up a little too early,” he argued, frowning deeply when Dan met his eyes with a scowl.
“I’m just trying to live my life normally, all right? If I actually do have a soul mate, then I’d need to really know them before I would be okay with dating them or anything at all,” Dan explained. He glanced up to check the length of the line, noting that it was almost bearable, and caught the eye of the rather attractive barista making the drinks. As if magnetically pulled, Dan stood up suddenly, still staring at the black-haired man. “The line’s probably good now,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away and looking down at PJ, who was staring up at his friend with a worried expression.
“If that’s what you want, then I guess,” he answered carefully, getting to his feet and following Dan to the end of the line. “Are you feeling alright? You stared down that poor barista, he probably wasn’t expecting such intensity.”
Dan bit his lip, chancing a furtive glance back up at the counter as the line shuffled forward. He turned to PJ and nodded slowly. “He’s just really cute,” Dan mumbled. A flush rose high in his cheekbones as PJ whooped and elbowed Dan, grinning from ear to ear.
“Gonna chat him up, Dan?” PJ asked. There was only one other person in front of them now, ordering from the pretty blond cashier whose name tag read Louise, with a smiley face over the letter “i”.
Dan’s face reddened deeply. “Shut up, Peej!” he exclaimed, looking anywhere but at his friend or the cute barista behind the counter just past the cashier.
“Can I help you, love?” the cashier asked, smiling sweetly at Dan. He returned the smile and ordered a piping hot caramel macchiato, his favorite drink, and handed over the money. “Name’s Dan?” she asked, and Dan nodded, figuring she must have gleaned the name from his and PJ’s conversation. He silently handed over his money and shuffled down to the pick-up counter, waiting for his name to be called.
The experience was positively nerve-wracking; Dan was anxious around people he found attractive and the barista was so close to him now, smelling of coffee and sweet shampoo or soap, his stupidly cute face probably really concentrated over making the coffee. As such, Dan was staring determinedly at his feet with a fixed expression and his head snapped up when the cashier called his name instead of the barista. He turned to look at her, and she nodded at the counter he was at. Swallowing inaudibly, Dan turned around quickly, wanting to get this over with so he could sit down and melt into the sofa, but his left arm flailed out before the rest of his body and Dan knocked over his own drink, spilling it all down his front.
“I’m so sorry!” the barista exclaimed, at the same moment Dan yelped and swore, “Holy shit, that’s hot!”
PJ, who had been watching his friend with concern, elbowed Dan hard, his mouth practically gaping with shock at what he’d just seen.
It took Dan a solid minute after PJ elbowed him (to be fair, he was dripping in hot caramel coffee and a bit distracted by the way the barista was biting at his lip) to process what had happened. Once he did, though, the nerves faded and he pulled up his left sleeve, shoved his wrist out to the barista, and asked, “Is that your handwriting?” He was trying to sound demanding, like he knew what he was doing, but his voice shook a bit with nerves.
The man’s bright blue eyes widened almost comically as he reached where Dan couldn’t see and then exposed his right wrist. “Well, is that yours?”
Dan’s mouth fell open as he let his arm rest against the counter, ignoring that he had actually placed it into the spilled coffee. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost reverent, as his eyes traced over the words holy shit, that’s hot in his own handwriting before he looked back up. “I’m Dan,” he blurted out, realizing awkwardly that he had never introduced himself or even checked the barista’s name tag. “Uh, when d’you -- when d’you get off? Of work! When d’you get off of work?” he corrected himself, flushing out of embarrassment.
“I’m Phil,” the barista replied, smiling so widely and openly that the beauty of it made Dan acutely aware of how fast his heart was beating. “I’ll be done in an hour, if you want to stick around?” he offered. “I’ll even make you a new coffee, I really am sorry it spilled all over you.” Phil bit his bottom lip and Dan thought he might fall over.
Dan smiled, reaching up and adjusting his fringe. “Yeah, of course I’ll stick around. And another coffee would be really great, but it was totally my fault, don’t worry about it.”
Phil, still smiling in the way that was making Dan’s heart flutter, nodded before shyly looking down and then back up. “Well, I’m glad that I met you, Dan,” he said, starting to remake Dan’s coffee.
Smiling so hard that his cheeks were starting to hurt, Dan replied, “I’m glad I met you too, Phil.”
PJ, at this point, had been witnessing the entire thing. At this moment he chose to reach over, grasp Dan’s elbow tightly, and move him out of the way so that PJ was the one standing in front of Phil. “You need to go have a seat,” he instructed, looking Dan square in the eye.
“What? Why?” Dan was startled; he’d actually forgotten that there were other people in the coffee shop, let alone his best friend.
PJ’s grin was wicked as he slit his green eyes, looking much like a cat stalking its prey. “I’ve got to make sure this Phil is good enough for you, don’t I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow dramatically.
Dan laughed, covering his mouth as Phil made eye contact with him, clearly confused. “Sorry!” he called as PJ practically shoved him away, watching as Phil realized what was going on and pulled a mock-terrified expression. That made Dan break out into an actual fit of giggles before he waved a bit awkwardly and turned around fully, making his way back to where he and PJ had been sitting. He sat down, absently grabbing some napkins and starting to blot at his clothes while he watched PJ and Phil chat animatedly; he could tell they would get on really well.
Dan felt newly-awakened to the world around him, almost as if he’d had a sixth sense opened up and was experiencing the world like he never had before. He knew that, biologically, that didn’t happen when you met your soul mate, but that psychologically it could feel that way. And even if Dan didn’t know whether Phil would be a romantic or a platonic soul mate, he had the best feeling about whatever their relationship was going to be. He hadn’t felt this optimistic since the tattoo had shown up on his body only six months ago; there was a warmth in Dan’s chest that had nothing to do with the coffee that had been spilled on him.
PJ came back, his and Dan’s cups in hand, and Dan looked up from where he’d been simply resting the napkin on his wet sleeve, apparently having stopped blotting some time ago. He traced his fingers over the tattoo, smiling as PJ set the cups down on the table between them. “I approve,” he announced. “Phil’s a charming man and he went to York. You’ve got my blessing, young Daniel.” PJ winked at him and Dan grinned, kicking PJ under the table. He looked down at his drink, noticing that Phil had attempted to draw an outline of a cat’s head and face in thin lines of whipped cream. Smiling softly, he picked up the cup and took a small sip.
“Thanks for the approval,” Dan responded, setting the drink down. He glanced back towards the counter and noticed that Phil was trying to surreptitiously watch him. Dan grinned and flashed him a thumbs-up, which Phil quickly returned before getting back to work.
For the first time in a long time, Dan finally felt hopeful.