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Rody doesn’t look at his soulmate’s mark anymore.
Unlike probably half the population, Rody never finds himself enchanted by it.
He never tries to give the inky sketch a meaning, never lets his gaze linger too long when he’s getting dressed by the mirror, and never lets himself think of it when Pino cuddles up right on top of it during the night.
There used to be a time where Rody loved his mark; fleeting moments where he’d lay down in the grass of the backyard of his old childhood home and let his tiny hands travel under his shirt and sneak their way up to his collarbone, fingertips tracing over every single line.
For young Rody, his soulmark was the proof that he had someone out there waiting for him with open arms, the proof that one day he’d be loved with just as much force and care as he loves others— it meant a happy ending.
And then Rody grew up.
He grew up, so he stopped running his fingers over the stem that spreads over his left collarbone in thin perfect lines—
—because when the nights were rough, Roro and Lala would rest their tiny heads against his chest to make up for the lack of pillows.
He grew up, so he forced himself to stop admiring the delicate petals of the flower that bloomed on his chest with strokes of black ink—
—because he hated the way the lines of ink ached, his soul longing for something he knew he could no longer have.
He grew up, so he stopped letting Pino fly up the shelves of the public library to steal gardening books, just to spend hours comparing the pages to the messy sketches on his skin—
—because a teenager in charge of two little kids had better things to do than hope and dream.
He grew up, so eventually, the unnamed and gray illustration engraved on his skin went from making Rody feel loved, to making him miserable, and soon enough, turned to being nothing more than a simple nuisance.
He likes to think of it as a tattoo, the ones people get when they’re drunk and now have nothing left but to deal with it; hide it the best you can and avoid looking at it during the shower.
Perhaps grimace every once in a while when thinking of it.
Rody doesn’t look at his soulmate’s mark anymore— but he does in fact, look at Deku’s.
It is stupid, and very invasive, and definitely a major Jerk Move move from Rody’s part especially after getting his ass saved by that same person, who he also betrayed hours prior.
But as the soft yellow light of the fire flickers over Deku’s closed eyes and his bandaged chest, Rody can’t help but let his own eyes wander over his silhouette.
He lets himself take everything in (despite Pino’s quiet chirps of disapproval at the intrusion) from the top of Izuku’s mess of unruly green curls, to the freckles on his flushed skin, to the concerning scars that litter almost every inch of skin in sight—
—And finally, the orchid.
Rody immediately knows what flower it is, fuzzy memories of ripped pages and messy sketches fill his mind.
He doesn’t flinch, but Pino does, which is very stupid, because it shouldn’t come as a surprise; of course someone as good as Deku has met his soulmate already, the universe owes him that much and maybe even more.
Still, something ugly settles in the bottom of Rody’s stomach and Pino’s fluffy chest squeezes painfully at the perfect lines of brown ink that stretch in a beautiful stem from the bottom of Deku’s freckled abdomen and curves all the way up to his navel.
There, a hazel brown colored orchid blooms with wide-spreading petals, elongated, and thin with sloping curves, transitioning into a crisp white pinkish in the center.
Rody can imagine touching Deku’s soulmark, tracing the lines with his fingertips and following the strokes of ink just like he used to do with his own mark when he was younger and had no resentment towards the unfinished piece.
Just to dig the knife deeper in his heart, he lets himself imagine a different universe where he can count every freckle and spot and scar on Deku’s chest, take in the way the ink melts into the skin and the way that there’s not one single thing wrong about the delicate and curving design—
—But Rody doesn’t bite the harder, doesn’t take it any further than staring and imaganing.
Because Izuku’s soulmate is not him.
Gingerly and unconsciously, Rody’s hand comes up to touch his own chest, and he hates it.
He hates to think about the colorless and unnamed flower on his body, hates the way the ink seems to palpitate under his palm and echo inside his empty thorax.
And he hates how he wonders who's behind that beautiful orchid.
Who gets to have the privilege of being destined to stay by Deku’s side, who gets to hold him tenderly and be held by him in return—
—Who gets the fucking privilege that not even one hundred wishes upon a star would be able to give to Rody.
Wanting someone like Izuku Midoriya is like reaching out with an open palm to try and grasp thin air.
It’s like trying to keep the sand from slipping through your fingers— tastes like broken hearts and an empty feeling of heartache and loneliness.
“Is something wrong?” Deku’s voice rings through the silence and Rody blinks in response, thankful that his gaze was on the ground by the time the young hero stopped resting his eyes and opened them.
Rody marvels over what flower could possibly be inked on Deku’s soulmate’s skin.
It feels impossible to even try and fathom the idea something as simple as a plant could even come close to represent the good and kindhearted soul that resides inside of Izuku Midoriya.
(But still, Rody wonders if the shades of green are just as breathtaking as the ones in real life.)
He wonders if the petals are be able to capture how outstandingly beautiful he is, if the flower is colored with soft green pastels, or forest greens, or the shiny shade of emeralds that twinkle and dance in Deku’s eyes when he smiles.
“I’m fine.” Rody lies through his teeth, like the professional he is. The lie tastes like copper on his tongue.
“Are you sure, Rody?” The name sounds like honey in Izuku’s mouth, feels like the first inhale of fresh air after a fire, like a hundred wishes granted all at once— it feels like hope.
He could ask, Rody knows that.
He could ask who's behind the soulmark, get to learn about Izuku’s soulmate and their magenta pink eyes or hazel brown hair, learn about their bronze skin and pink lips, or about their perfect morality and stainless background.
He could ask, but he doesn’t.
Because he knows Deku will respond.
And because he’s Deku, good kind hearted Deku with not one single evil bone in his body, he’ll probably go off about his wonderful other half if given the chance, speaking wonders in a lovestruck tone and his eyes will twinkle as he speaks and his cheeks will flush— and it would be torture.
Torture, cause Rody doesn’t even know why his chest aches for someone he just met.
Torture cause he feels his skin ache and burn at the idea there’s someone out there that's all Izuku could have dreamt of and even more.
Torture, because he never had a chance to begin with.
“Stop worrying so much, hero.” Rody responds, and he’s surprised he could stop his voice from quivering. “Go to sleep already, you won’t be able to save the world if you’re exhausted.”
Deku doesn’t speak again after that.
The moment Rody sees Izuku the next morning, he immediately knows something is bothering him.
The young hero comes rushing out of their shelter the moment Rody parks the truck, he (thankfully) has his shirt and overalls back on and has the suitcase pressed tightly to his chest, clearly in a defensive position and ready to get in action.
“Rody?” The defensive position disappears just as quickly as it came the moment he’s recognized, and Deku’s eyes widen at the sight of the truck.
“Sorry, did I wake ya?” Rody asks, bringing a hand up to his hip while Deku quickly retrieves to grab their bags and makes his way down to meet him.
Deku answers his question, with another one. “Where'd you get a truck?”
Rody looks away from the hero in a weak attempt at hiding the traitorous smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“I kinda borrowed it, figured we were done walking,” And then, before the other can voice his concerns, he adds; “I even wrote an IOU in the name of the World Hero Association, I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Izuku lets out a soft laugh at that, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes like it normally does, which leaves Rody feeling strangely unsatisfied.
Is Deku really upset about the stolen truck? He figured it’d be a good idea, driving would give the hero a chance to rest his wound and move faster.
“Wish they'd had a Cessna, we could've flown straight into Klayd that way, no problem.” He adds, perhaps out of nervousness; a weak attempt to lighten the mood and take the attention away from the truck.
Much to Rody’s relief, Deku’s weird tight smile changes into a look of curiosity, the one he wears whenever heroes or quirks are mentioned. “Like, an airplane? You can fly something like that?!”
Rody opens the door of the truck, which squeaks obnoxiously. “Only in my dreams, friend.” Then, just for good measure, he closes the door on the hero’s face.
“Get in!”
Rody thought that their conversation —which pretty much consisted of him opening up and spilling his whole life and secrets to Deku on a silver platter while driving— would mark the end of that weird tension he’d felt before.
But that was an incorrect assumption.
Because as the minutes ticked by and their shelter started looking more and more far away, Rody could feel Izuku grow more and more uncomfortable, twisting the belt of his seat between his scarred fingers and squirming.
Rody figured the hero was still a bit tense over the whole ‘we’re traveling on a stolen truck’ or perhaps his injury was bothering— two situations that were, without a doubt; Rody’s fault.
So he shut his mouth and kept driving in silence, eventually shoving a very concerned and guilty-looking Pino into his pocket. If Deku was upset with him, that was fine, if he had something to say to Rody, he’d have to get it off his chest on his own accord.
And so he did, maybe half an hour into the drive, Deku finally looked away from the window and turned towards the driver’s seat, bottom lip stuck between his teeth.
Rody waited for a complaint to be voiced.
For angry remarks. For disappointed looks. For the blame to finally be shoved into his shoulders.
All things Rody is used to dealing with on a daily basis.
“Do you have a soulmark, Rody?” Was definitely not on Rody’s list.
Embarrassingly, he sputters a handful of ‘wha-? why? What?’ meanwhile, Pino makes herself present by letting out confused chirps from inside of Rody’s pocket, clearly demanding to know the reasoning behind Izuku’s question.
“Sorry! I just realized that's a rude question to ask since it is private, and of course you cover it up for a reason! And there’s people that don't-, I-, Sorry! That was so invasive!”
Deku immediately goes off like a rocket, his face gaining a nice shade of pink as his ramble of apologies start to melt from English into Japanese, becoming all just a blur of sound.
Rody tries his best to recollect himself while the other continues frantically apologizing, he fixes up his expression into something kinder and perhaps softer, an expression he only uses when Lala or Roro have nightmares.
He clears his throat and speaks with an unbothered tone. “Deku- hey, it's fine, I couldn’t care less. I just wanted to know why you asked.”
“I was just curious!” A red-faced Deku replies, his rambles coming to a halt immediately.
If raising two little kids all by yourself gave you any abilities, noticing when someone’s lying is definitely one. Or Izuku is just a terrible liar.
Either way, Rody lifts an eyebrow and takes a quick look at the hero, he barely has a few seconds to take in the way his blush goes all the way up to the tip of his ears, and the way he bites the tip of his thumb, and the way he seems to rather look at anywhere but Rody.
So yes, it's blatantly obvious he’s lying.
Returning his eyes to the road, Rody ponders over his response before speaking.
“Well, I do have one.” He says, but when he’s met with no reply or further questioning, he continues to speak. “Er, I dunno what flower it is, and honestly? I don’t really care.”
“You don’t?” Deku questions, and Rody’s mind must be playing tricks on him because something about his tone sounds deflated; disappointed, perhaps a bit sad.
It rubs him the wrong way.
“Nah,” He forces out, one hand leaving the wheel and sneaking down to his pocket to grab Pino, knowing the damned bird has the power to uncover his lies in a second if Izuku sees her stupid sad, longing eyes.
“It’s just not my thing y’know? The whole soulmates thing— I have a lot on my plate already to bother myself with romance and all that.”
When Rody is met with no response, he immediately fears Deku has found a way to see through his bullshit even without Pino, but no, what he’s met with is by far worse.
“Oh.” Is all the hero says, voice lacking any emotion or the curiosity it had just a moment before.
It’s almost like Deku is giving up on something— the way he holds his shoulders, slumped and defeated, the way he averts his eyes back to the window and the way he takes in a tiny, almost hesitant breath.
Rody looks at Deku before looking back at the road, his hand tightening on the wheel as a sudden wave of helplessness and rejections fills his chest, emotions too raw and clear for them to feel like his own.
And doing what he does best, Rody shoves it all to the side and keeps on driving.
Neither of them speak until their next stop.
Sleeping on the back of a truck is not as comfortable as movies make it out to be.
That’s probably why Rody finds himself restlessly squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can, body curled up as the frustration starts getting to his head.
Even as the exhaustion weighs over him like rocks on his shoulders, Rody can’t seem to get one blink of sleep, which is stupid since he’s managed to sleep in places more uncomfortable by far than the back of a truck.
The only thing keeping Rody from exploding —and perhaps losing his mind— is the sound of Deku’s breathing, slow and calm. They have their backs pressed together which sort of helps Rody ground himself, feeling the other’s breathing strangely soothes him.
They didn’t speak much after the weird soulmarks conversation, which is probably the real reason why Rody can’t seem to fall asleep.
Questions and doubts keep drilling into his skull, and the picture of the strange look on Deku’s face from before haunts Rody every time he closes his eyes.
Rody's used to being uncertain.
Uncertain over if he’s going to be able to make ends meet by the end of the month.
Uncertain over Roro and Lala, if they will be home safe by the end of his very questionable jobs.
Uncertain, cause every day Rody wonders how long they will be able to keep living this way.
And despite being used to constantly have to guess and hope for the best outcome; Rody hates being uncertain over Deku.
After their conversation, the hero eventually went back to his normal self, reading the crumpled map they’ve gotten their hands on and chattering about a certain location that caught his eye every once in a while.
But despite it all, Rody couldn't seem to shake off the feeling that something was definitely wrong the whole ride.
Which is probably why Rody finds himself staring at nothing instead of sleeping, Pino curled up in his chest like a little fluffy ball, defeated and just as exhausted.
And that’s exactly when, breaking through the silence and over the wild crickets, a wet sniffle is heard.
At first Rody is sure he imagined it, but then after a few moments it comes again, and this time a tiny choking noise comes after it, and then Rody is sure he didn’t just imagine it.
Thoughts race through his head at a speed he’s not even able to catch, so when Deku carefully shifts into a sitting position as to not disturb the other, Rody doesn’t have a second to think before he’s turning over, Pino following suit by flying up to Deku’s face.
Her face twists into raw concern at the same time Rody’s heart seems to stutter inside his chest, because staring back at them is Deku;
Deku, the fearless and strong hero that has saved his life on multiple occasions, the boy that looked past his betrayal with a blink of an eye, the boy that looks at him like no one ever has, the boy that has constellations of freckles on his skin and emeralds as eyes.
Deku, the first person to have ever made the effort to carve his way through Rody’s walls and fought tooth and nail to stay inside even after learning every messed up detail of his past that would make anyone else run away.
That Deku, is staring back at them, with tears rolling down his cheeks like perfectly mirroring streams, his eyes red and his whole body shaking with the force of his sobs.
And as Rody stares up at him, his chest starts constricting and squeezing his lungs, urging him to do something, anything to stop the other from hurting.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening? Are you hurt?” His body reacts on his own accord.
In a second he’s staring and then he’s on his knees in front of Deku with his palms on his cheeks, rubbing away the tears that should have no place running down his face.
Deku seems to melt into Rody’s hands, furiously trying to blink the tears out of his eyes and recollect himself despite the fact that’s nearly impossible with his whole body shaking like that.
“I’m sorry,” Leaves Izuku’s mouth after a few sobs, his own scarred palms covering Rody’s as he’s being held. “I promise I’ll stop, I promised myself I wouldn’t— I’m sorry."
“Wouldn’t what, Izuku?” Rody’s chest burns.
“I’m sorry.” He repeats, over and over again, so much that the words melt together and stop making sense.
Tell me what to do, Rody begs to whatever is out there, to the truck and it’s old engine, to the grass filled with chirping crickets, to the birds sleeping in their nests, to the stars above their heads—
—And, despite the fact Rody has not let himself think of his soul mark in years; He begs to the mark engraved on his skin to help him, that despite not being destined to Izuku, to still make a connection, bond them out of nothing but urgency and tell him what the fuck to do.
And so it does.
His body moves on its own accord yet again, and Rody finds himself embracing Deku in a tight hug, keeping his head right on his collarbone where his mark lays upon.
The ink burns, it spreads warmth from the core of Rody’s soul like lava.
“Stop apologizing,” Rody mutters but it comes off more like a desperate whisper, his chin is buried in dark, beautiful, green curls. “Please.”
“I’m not being fair to you, I’m sorry.” Deku insists, one of his hands is curled around Pino whose bawling her eyes out on the palm of his hand and the other one lays on his abdomen, right above the orchid.
Rody wonders if his mark burns, too.
“You said, you didn’t want this and I’m not- I’m being so unfair.”
Again, the uncertainty, the rejection, the helplessness, Rody can feel it all— and it’s torture.
“Please, I don't understand,” Rody repeats in a whisper, his calloused thumbs rub Deku’s wet cheeks gently, right above his freckles. “Please, make me understand.”
Izuku inhales shakily, tears trailing down his face yet again and Rody makes a pathetic attempt at rubbing them away. He shakes his head, slowly. “I just- y’know how, when you are a kid and you’ve just gotten your soulmark— you constantly dream about meeting your soulmate?”
Rody’s throat is dry.
“I never stopped dreaming about that moment,” Deku’s hand fists at the fabric of his shirt, and he laughs. But his laugh is weak and empty.
Rody never thought he’d ever hate hearing him laugh until now.
“I’ll get over it Rody, I promise, you don’t need to worry about me— it’s just hard.”
Something inside of Rody breaks, and it’s his voice. “I don’t understand.” He says, a pathetic whine that breaks his usually strong tone.
“What?”
“I don’t— I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t understand!” The mix of hurt and confusion in his voice is just another thing for him to regret, yet, it still manages to seep through. “You’re my hero, you’re the first person to have ever given me a chance—”
His own eyes are the ones to tear up now, and Deku’s palms are immediately on his cheeks, cupping his face the same way Rody’s cupping his. “—and I’m trying so hard, believe me Deku, I’m trying to be good, I’m trying to be like you and get this mission over with the right way, but yet I still hurt you and I don't even know what I did this time! I hurt you, again.”
And finally, the tears spill.
They run down Rody's face like pathetic streams, burning up his cheeks.
“And you are, you are so good Rody,” Deku assures, and he’s crying too, his whole body shaking from the effort of holding himself together and for a second Rody can’t breathe. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to keep apologizing, I’m the one sorry!”
"What do you mean you're sorry!?” His voice is so broken it hurts. "Sorry for what?!"
"I'm sorry I'm your soulmate!"
The time just, stops.
And there they are— two fugitives cupping each other’s faces with mirroring tears rolling down their cheeks, staring into each other's eyes.
"What?" Rody barely manages to crook out.
Deku lets out a hiccup-like-sob, and one of his hands comes down to the collar of Rody’s sweatshirt.
He pulls down the fabric with trembling hands, and there it is; Rody’s unnamed, meaningless and colorless flower— but this time, it is not colorless or meaningless.
“I didn’t realize my mark had color until last night—” Izuku starts, voice barely above a whisper, and his hand hangs hesitantly right above the flower engraved on Rody’s skin.
“I wasn’t sure if it had been you, but after you fell asleep I woke up and Pino- erm, she pulled down your hoodie to climb inside, and that’s when I saw it.”
Rody lets himself look down, unable to believe what Deku is telling him, unable to let himself fall into what should be just a pathetic fantasy, an ungranted wish.
Yet, on his collarbone lies the same inky sketch as before, carrying the unmoving but yet perfect nature of an elongated stem and leaves with a blooming flower at the end with broad, flat, and oblong petals with serrated, frilled edges.
But this time, the ink isn’t black; it is alive and rich with vivid shades of green; going from the stem with the deepest forest-like tones to the petals with the softest shades.
His flower is a green carnation.
Rody is breathless.
And suddenly, everything starts making sense.
“I planned to tell you but then in the truck you—"
Deku lets out a shaky breath when Rody places one single finger over his lips. “I’m sorry,” He starts, but it doesn’t feel nearly enough. “I keep saying that but it’s true. I’m sorry for being so blind I- I thought your mark was someone else's already.”
Izuku’s eyes widen, and he tries to open his mouth to speak, but Rody isn’t done. “I’m sorry for lying when I said I had no time for soulmates— I’m sorry for letting you believe I didn't want you. When in reality it is quite the opposite."
Deku loses it again, but his tears are silent now, and a feeling of raw relief rushes through Rody like a river.
“You want me?” Izuku whispers, uncertain, clearly in disbelief.
Rody hates uncertainty.
So he kisses Deku until there's not even a trace of uncertainty left on his face.
The hospital lights hurt Rody’s eyes, they are blinding and make him squint; but any discomfort seems to vanish off the face of the earth the moment Rody catches a glimpse of Deku from the corner of his eye.
Even if he’s covered in bandages from head to toes, and that there’s dried blood making his hair stick up in a weird way, and that his freckles are barely noticeable under the bruises; Rody still thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.
Deku stares at Rody intensely from the other side of the hospital room, but he doesn’t dare to speak.
“Have you changed your mind, hero?” Rody asks as an ice breaker, and despite the question itself, a smile breaks into his face when a feeling of raw joy and love rushes from his collarbone and spreads down his chest. “Still want me?”
The nurse in charge of their room lets out an alarmed noise when Deku rushes out of his hospital bed, but Rody’s far too busy catching his soulmate with open arms and embracing him to really bring himself to give a crap.
“Forever.” Izuku says, and it feels like heaven.
Rody used to avoid looking at his soulmate’s mark.
But when he’s finally allowed to take his bandages off, he stands inside the hospital’s bathroom in front of the mirror and looks, stares, adores.
And when he runs his calloused fingertips over the green inky lines, he doesn’t feel empty—
—He feels loved.