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Emilien remembers the first message his soulmate had wrote to him when he was 18. It was the first time the slightly burning sensation of something getting written on his skin had happened.
<Hi! I’m happy to meet you!>
The writing was soft, each letter drawn with precision and application. Either his soulmate had a very beautiful handwriting, or they had put a lot of attention on their small message. Emilien had smile, feeling his heart warm up with joy. There was someone out there, made for him. Someone waiting to meet him, waiting to hold his hand and be here for him.
The message was in English, but it was okay. Emilien knew how to speak English enough to communicate. He took the first pen he found before writing his answers.
<Hi! It’s nice to finally be able to communicate! I’m…>
The end of his message was only a blur, something that wouldn’t get transferred to his soulmate. Emilien sighed softly. In his excitation he had forgotten that the soulmate link was something very specific.
The link had existed since ancient time. It was now considered a blessing, something that brought human closer to one another, give them a chance with someone that was made for them. But at first, it had been a curse. According to religions, in the garden of Eden the mark had been pure. It would transmit whatever the soulmate wrote on their arm. But, after the fall from the Garden, Adam and Eve had been cursed. Their mark would never leave them write their name. It hadn’t been a problem, as the only two persons on earth they had known who their soulmate was. But, as humanity grew, the fact no names could be shared had made it very hard for soulmate to find each other.
In these days it was easier for people to find their soulmate. Internet had made it easier. People would upload a picture of what they were saying to their soulmate, hoping their soulmate would see it. There were forum and website dedicated to that, very effective methods.
Emilien was too romantic to think about these methods. His soulmate was supposed to be the person made for him. They were of course destined to meet at one point. He just had to wait. The fact the message was written in English was certainly a sign that his soulmate was not French, but it was okay. He was aiming to become an international biathlete; he would meet non-French there. Maybe one of them would be his soulmate.
<Sorry I forgot about the no name thing> Emilien wrote on his arm, feeling very dumb in this first interaction.
His soulmate had drawn back a smiley and a heart. Emilien had smile for the rest of the day, touching the little heart on his arm while training.
They had talk for two years like that, exchanging what they could, learning about each other. On their way together he had told his soulmate he was French, and he had realised his soulmate was too. It had felt like they were closer than ever that day. Almost as if just by holding his hand out he could touch his soulmate. Then, they had started speaking french. And things had went wrong. In English it was easy not to know the gender of a soulmate. But in French? Impossible not to guess.
His soulmate was a man. That was okay for Emilien. But it hadn’t seemed to be for his soulmate. The small hearts stopped appearing on his skin, then the smiley did and in the end the words.
His soulmate had stopped talking to him.
Emilien had tried to go on, ignoring how he was missing the slightly burning sensation of something getting written on his skin. He had tried to ignore the pain he felt, as if one of his limbs was gone. His soulmate was his. He would understand it one day and talk again to him.
At first Emilien had tried to keep on talking at first, but his soulmate had very clearly made his discomfort known. A feminine handwriting had appeared on Emilien’s arm, writing in French “He loves me, leave him alone”. His soulmate had a girlfriend, and it was okay. Everything was okay. His soulmate couldn’t leave him, right? It was temporary, they were supposed to be true love. He had tried to write that down on his arms, but he had given up. Maybe… Maybe his soulmate would never want him. Maybe he should get used to that idea.
Years passed, and his soulmate never talked to him again. Emilien is now 26 years old, and the last time his soulmate talked to him was 6 years ago.
He doesn’t want to speak to his soulmate anymore. At least that what he tells himself every night, looking at the pen on his nightstand. His soulmate had given up, and he wouldn’t be the man trying to hold onto a taken man.
His determination holds until he breaks his wrist. It’s a silly accident really, a bike accident that his running his physical preparation. He feels so alone right now, lying on his bed while looking at his cast. He wishes someone could hug him right now, give him some comfort. His teammates are asleep, resting for tomorrow’s training and Emilien can’t bring himself to wake any of them. He takes the pen between his right hand, trying to scribble on his left upper arm.
<Broken arm. Wish you I could get a hug. I miss you>
It’s stupid to talk to his soulmate again. He can feel tears running down his face, both from physical and mental exhaustion. His soulmate was of course going to ignore him, he must be a married man now. Happy with whoever he had chosen to fill Emilien’s spot.
His right arm is burning with a sensation he had almost forgotten. He blinks his tears away and read what there is on his arm.
<Emilien?>
He reads it repeatedly, trying to understand what is happening. First, why did his soulmate answer. Second, how did he guess who Emilien was? He stays a few minutes there, looking at his arms quizzically. His soulmate was French, maybe someone from the staff was his soulmate? It couldn’t be someone from the team, right? He would have felt it of course. His soulmate had been a bit older than him, 3 years older. He had a soft soul and loved to build stuff…
Oh.
A knock on the door interrupts him, and Emilien doesn’t even have to open the door to know Quentin is behind. It makes sense now. Older, love crafting things, always so shy by message, never talking much about himself or his life. Quentin was like that. He had always been like that, and Emilien had been so lost in his sadness and anger that he hadn’t realise his soulmate was right in front of him during all these years.
He gets up to open the door, ready to scream at his teammate. If he was indeed his soulmate, he had ignored him for years, there was no way Emilien would forgive him so easily. He opens the door and as soon as he does, he is surrounded by Quentin’s arms. God, it felt so nice to be held by Quentin. They never hugged that much because Quentin didn’t like contact that much, but his body was warm, and soft and perfectly made for Emilien’s arms.
Emilien should scream really but all he finds the strength to do is crying. He cries, sobbing into Quentin shirt. There is something eerie about the mix of pain and relief he feels at the same time. One of Quentin’s hand goes to his head, softly brushing his hair.
“Emilien? Please tell me something, anything…” Quentin says softly, his voice both scared and so hopeful. Emilien take a step back, leaving the warm hug. He takes the pen that was on his bed, coming to write again on his skin. When he looks up the message he had wrote is on Quentin’s skin. He come closer to his teammates, softly brushing the skin of his arm. He should hate Quentin for how much he hurt him. He should but he can’t.
“Why did you leave me” Emilien simply says, enjoying the soft skin of his soulmate. Quentin is tensing under his hand, and Emilien doesn’t dare to look up to his face.
“I… wanted to be the best biathlete in the world. I thought it would be impossible if people knew my soulmate was a man… So, I pushed you away because I feared what people would say about me”
Quentin’s voice is soft, full of a sadness Emilien had never seen on him.
“You do realise the best biathlete in the world as a man for soulmate and husband, right?” Emilien answers and he can see Quentin’s blushing with embarrassment.
“I was young, and Martin and Johannes were not together at that time and… when I realised it could be okay for us, I was so scared of having lost you forever that I didn’t dare to say anything”
“I should hate you, you know. You left me for so many years, never wrote me anything. I… spent my whole life believing I was worthless and undeserving of love…” Emilien voice is shaking as is his hand touching Quentin’s arm. Quentin come to put one hand on his cheek softly and Emilien tries not to cry with how happy he is just to be touched by his soulmate.
“Please, let me… Let me prove that you aren’t worthless or undeserving of love. I’ll give you everything I didn’t give during all these years. I’ll give you all my love please, Emilien. Give me one chance”
Emilien laugh softly, feeling the tears leaving his eyes again.
“You’re dumb. I’ll give you as many chances as you want you know?” he answers, closing his eyes to enjoy Quentin’s touch. The hand on his cheek is soon joined by soft lips kissing him. His world his on fire. All he feels his Quentin’s touch, making his body feel whole for the first time in his entire life. Kissing anyone else never did that to him. Even fucking never did that to him. He grabs Quentin’s shirt, holding him closely, trying to kiss him more. As if this one kiss could make up for all those he had missed during these silent years. The pain in his arms is still here, and Emilien know they will have to talk a lot about their discovered bound but right now, in Quentin’s arms, he finally feels whole.