Chapter Text
It wasn’t obvious at first, but something seemed… off. Which, growing up in such a bustling city, wasn’t that strange. But it still drew his attention all the same. Dylan was eight the first time, on a bus the first time, sitting next to his mother on their way home from the store after picking up some groceries for their dinner. It appeared suddenly, with a blink of his eyes, the red strings. There were so many of them, all of various lengths, stretching and twisting in front of him, but when he reached a hand out to touch one, it went through it as if it wasn’t even there. Strange indeed.
They were gone just as quickly as they appeared, and soon it was time for them to get off and walk the last two blocks to their apartment. His mother fussing over making sure his jacket was properly closed before they stepped out into the cold air was enough to distract him for the time being. He took her hand as they stepped off the bus and it wasn’t long before they were warm inside. He helped with putting the food away and his mother even let him help with dinner, at least until his father came home.
Even through the closed door, he could hear them arguing. It’s been happening more and more lately, and he tried his best not to listen, but sometimes he knew it was hard. He knew it was about him, about how he isn’t as outgoing as some of his classmates, about how he doesn’t want to play sports with his cousins. Why couldn’t he just be more like the other boys? Why was his mother raising him ‘wrong’? Dylan put his headphones on, not wanting to hear any more.
His father was gone by the time he was called out to dinner. He never stuck around after going on his rants. It was for the best. There was always this tension in the air after, and his mother would give him extra love and attention to make up for the filth that came from her husband’s mouth. It was when she was preparing him a bowl of ice cream for an after dinner treat that he saw it again. Or rather, a partial one. It was tied neatly at his mother’s pinky finger, dangling down only a couple of inches before it stopped, seemingly burned.
“Mom?” He waited until he got a soft hum in acknowledgement, curiosity bubbling inside him. Where did the string come from? It wasn’t there a moment ago. “What’s the string on your finger?”
“A string?” She took a look at her hand as she put a bowl in front of him, but the string was gone by then. “I don’t see anything.”
“It’s gone now.” Dylan happily started eating his ice cream, feet swinging idly, unable to reach the floor.
“Yeah? What did it look like?”
“Small and red. Tied to your finger.”
She grew quiet, contemplative. “Did it lead anywhere?”
He shook his head, glancing at her hands again to make sure it hadn’t reappeared. “No, it looked like it was kind of burned.”
She took his bowl from him once the ice cream was gone, placing it in the sink to wash later. “How long have you been seeing it?” She took a seat next to him, reaching up to brush some hair out of his eyes lovingly.
“Just today. I might just be imagining it.” He was ready to get up and go back to his room. There was still some homework he needed to get done, so there wasn’t time to spend on something that he might have made up.
But, before he could get up from his chair, his mother took his hand gently. It was then that she quietly explained about the whole concept of the red string of fate. How it was a link between two people who were meant to be together, how no matter how much distance is between them, the link will remain, and that these people will always end up finding each other one way or another. She told him about how her grandmother also had the gift to see the string, even though she only got the brief flashes like how he had been getting them.
It was all so interesting! He asked about what the destroyed string meant, and his curiosity was dampened when she told him that it meant death. She told him about how she had met her soulmate as a freshman in college, how they clicked so quickly. But it wasn’t meant to be, and his life had been taken by a drunk driver. It wasn’t long after that she met Dylan’s father, and even though they weren’t soulmates, she tried to make it work. But they both knew it wasn’t, and divorce was on the horizon. But really, it was for the best for everyone involved.
She sent him off with a kiss to his forehead and a lot to think about. He wished his great-grandmother was still alive so he could hear from her himself about how this whole thing worked. He didn’t know where it even came from, and it wasn’t going to be something he could control, but maybe, when he’s older, he could put it to good use just like she did. And maybe, along the way, he could meet his own special someone. He fell asleep that night, fantasizing about what they could be like.
He was eighteen when the string appeared on his own finger, and it became clear very quickly that whoever he was linked to didn’t live near him. But that wasn’t going to discourage him! They were out there somewhere, and he was bound and determined to find them, no matter what it took. And the first step was stepping out of his comfort zone, so the summer after the string appeared, he applied to work as a counselor at Hackett’s Quarry Summer Camp. It seemed like a long shot, but it was a good place to start.