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Henry was a lot of things. The leader of the Purple Hand Gang, a horrid boy according to his punitive parents (and most adults in general), and the best future rockstar this world has yet to see. He was also a self proclaimed soulmate cynic.
More often than not, Henry would hear adults and occasionally other kids discuss soulmates. In the halls, in classrooms, even at home on TV. But he just couldn’t believe in them. He could imagine himself becoming rich, becoming famous, but he just could not picture having a soulmate as he was quite certain that he had none.
He still remembers his dad explaining how soulmates worked back when he was around his brother’s age now. Everyone has a soulmate, Henry. A person whose soul is tied to your own. So much so that when you fall or get hurt, the mark that it leaves will appear on your soulmate’s skin as well. They won’t feel the pain, it’s more like a phantom scar that lasts until midnight then disappears unlike a real injury that fades bit by bit over time. A little note that states your soulmate is hurting and you should do something about it because you two are connected.
But Henry has never gotten a bruise or scar that didn’t hurt, meaning he’s never had a scar that wasn’t his own. Even when he was a toddler, his parents made note of the lack of marks on his skin. Toddlers are known for knocking over themselves, he should know, he watched the worm do all that all the time when he was that age.
His mum told him to be grateful since bruises, scrapes, and scars are so off putting. It’s meant to a relief when you meet your soulmate, supposedly, as then the two of you can keep each other out of trouble so neither of you will be covered in scars.
But Henry is certain that if he had a soulmate he’d spend all his time getting into even more trouble with them. A soulmate would be his best friend, his band mate, and a member of the Purple Hand Gang, for sure.
If he had a soulmate, that is. Which he does not.
Still, every night before bed, he’d check his face, torso, arms, legs, every part of his body, and every night was practically the same. No scars. Which was awful because scars are cool. If he had them, he’d definitely look like a rock star, no question, even if they all faded away at the end of the day. But he always had none. He was soulmateless. It’s just not fair.
And since there was no one to give him bruises or scars, there was no one he’d be giving bruises or scars to. Which only encouraged him to act out and roughhouse and horseplay even more. If Henry truly was the only one in the universe to not have a soulmate, then he could at least indulge in playing rough whenever he wanted, however much he wanted. It’s not like scars from any injuries he’d get were going anywhere.
Ralph’s life was anything but entertaining. Don’t get him wrong, he is well aware he should consider himself lucky to be rich enough to afford a live in butler, have all the latest games and tech, and practically anything else a kid could ask for. But can you blame him when he can’t enjoy it?
His parents would bribe him with a higher allowance to not join any sports so he could best avoid getting any injuries of his own. Sure, they also let him stay up playing expensive video games but that’s just another way for to keep him out of trouble and sight. Most of the time, Ralph can’t even play with half his toys, at least not the ones he truly likes since they all lead to possible injury, (that’s how you know it’s a good toy.) Besides, all of this effort is pointless for him as he is more often than not covered in bruises or scars anyway. Because unfortunately, his luck ran out with him being rich as his soulmate does not care about him one bit.
His parents compensate by buying him more and more fancy clothes, suits, and proper dress shoes to cover him up and hopefully distract anyone from their son’s sod appearance. Ralph never cared for it though, he much preferred his red hoodie as it was far more comfortable. But being a kid means keeping quiet as your parents fuss over you even when they make you wear a suit and tie.
One time when Ralph sat down at the dinner table dressed in parental-approved attire, he saw his mum gasp and his dad’s jaw drop like it was ready to fall off. At first, Ralph didn’t know what to think, he was wearing the appropriate clothes, he had combed his hair the way they asked, he arguably put more in his appearance that day, then he got a look at his reflection in the steel lid that kept the roasted pig covered up on the table and noticed a black-eye had formed.
It was actually pretty funny seeing his parents in such a state of shock. He was instantly the center of attention without him even doing anything.
Still, it was hard not to feel bad about it. Ralph saw the way his black-eye looked in the mirror, enlarged and dark purple. And while he’d like to pretend he got it in a fight, it didn’t hurt, it was from his soulmate and therefore not his to claim. He didn’t earn it.
It was always like this. Ralph could understand a few scars here and there, everyone trips and falls sometimes, but as his mum explained to him, it is our soulmates who hold our scars for us because they’re the ones who care about our safety and well being more than anyone else in the world. And though the phantom black-eye fully disappeared by the time he woke up the next morning, it did little to assure him. If anything, it only made him wonder when the next injury would appear. Because there was always a next time. And a time after that.
Sometimes Ralph tries to rationalize to himself why it must be like this for him. Perhaps his soulmate was a young prodigy rugby player. But then why so many injuries for a prodigy? Maybe his soulmate was some tough street fighter, but surely they’d know how to avoid brutal attacks by now?
Ralph just had to face the facts; his soulmate doesn’t care about him at all.
Ralph sat in the back in an attempt to hide from his fellow classmates. It was the first day of the new school year, and he didn’t want to scare anyone away with his appearance. (At least that’s what his parents suggested he’d try doing, Ralph just didn’t want to deal with anyone’s starring.) He was brushing his teeth earlier that morning when he got a busted lip. He was glad he caught it in the mirror since it didn’t hurt. An obvious soulmate-given-injury.
The teacher went on addressing the first lesson of the day when she was interrupted by a girl in a skirt with a red haired ponytail screaming as a boy in a blue and yellow jumper laughed behind her. Apparently, the boy had used a fake spider to frighten her. The teacher confiscated it, but not before taking the time to lecture the whole class on why rubber bug toys are not appropriate items to be bringing inside the classroom.
Ralph couldn’t help but giggle to himself. It was a classic prank after all. The boy looked behind him to see who was laughing and that’s when Ralph noticed this kid had the same injury him.
Could it be… That this kid also has a soulmate who doesn’t care what he looks like on the first day of school? That must be it, but Ralph still had to ask.
With the sound of the bell ringing for break, Ralph decided to introduce himself to him on the playground.
“The name’s Henry,” he said, looking at Ralph’s handshake offer in confusion by the formality but still taking it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Say, I couldn’t help but notice your busted lip. I got the same one,” Ralph said, pointing at his mouth.
“Oh, yeah,” Henry said, examining Ralph’s lower lip. “It’s even in the same place.”
“What a coincidence!” Ralph proclaimed.
“That it is. I got mine from staying up reading comics last night. When my mum came to my room, I tried hiding it between my books on my bookshelf above my bed, but one of the corners fell and hit my lower lip,” Henry explained.
“Ah, well, that sucks. I woke up with mine. It doesn’t come from any injury I caused, so I figure it must be from my soulmate.”
“Oh, a soulmate, huh? I don’t think I have a soulmate.” Henry admitted.
“Don’t have a soulmate?”
“Yeah. All my injuries come from me. So I figure either my soulmate was born and raised in a pillow fortress house, or I don’t have one at all,” Henry shrugged.
“That’s sad. And here I thought I had soulmate problems.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your soulmate problem?” Henry questioned, gawking his head.
“Mine doesn’t care about my appearance or wellbeing whatsoever,” Ralph sighed. “I’m always covered head to toe in soulmate scars and bruises. A soulmate injury is practically a daily occurrence for me,” He admitted.
“Woah,” Henry placed a hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Ralph, if I ever meet your soulmate, I’ll punch them right in the face for neglecting you,” He proclaimed, lifting his right arm and flexing his bicep.
“Thanks, Henry. But then I’d end up with a facial injury too.”
“Oh, yeah,” Henry realized.
They both sighed.
“I wouldn’t mind the scars myself, it’s just that I wish I knew that my soulmate cared about me,” Ralph explained, sulking.
“I see. Say, Ralph, how would you like to be friends? Since neither of us is going to have a good relationship with our soulmates any time soon, we might as well get along with each other,” Henry suggested with a smile.
“Alright, Henry. I like the sound of that,” Ralph accepted, nodding in agreement.
And at that, the boys high-fived each other. They spent the rest of recess playing with each other. And even walked home together once school let out.
By the time they reached Henry’s house they were sharing jokes and practicing air guitar till they were interrupted by Henry’s little brother, Peter.
“What’s the matter with you, worm?” Henry asked, making note of the fluffy bunny bandaids Peter had stuck to his knees. “I didn’t know you could scrape your knees from cello playing.”
Ralph laughed.
“It’s not from me,” Peter explained, “It’s from my soulmate.
“Soulmate injures don’t hurt,” Said Ralph. “And they certainly don’t need bandages.”
“No, but Mum said I could put them on anyway.”
“Oh, did she?” Henry deadpanned. “Well, lucky you worm, your soulmate’s probably a sporty football player.”
“Cheer up, Henry,” Ralph suggested. “How about we start a Bad Soulmate Gang?”
“Why would anyone’s soulmate be bad?” Peter asked.
“My soulmate doesn’t care about me.” Ralph explained.
“And I don’t have one, remember?” Stated Henry.
“Well, you both have an injury currently, and the same exact one at that. What makes you think you two aren’t each other’s soulmates?” Peter asked, his head turning.
“That’s ridiculous,” Henry dismissed, laughing. But he stopped once he noticed Ralph wasn’t joining him.
“I think he’s got a point, Henry.”
Henry pondered this for a moment. “Well, guess the only way to find out is if one of us gets hurt to see if the other is affected at the exact same time,” Henry considered.
“I don’t think I’m up to injuring myself,” Ralph admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Especially on purpose. I’m not used to it.”
“Leave it to me, Ralph.” Henry proclaimed, dropping his backpack and using his thumb to point at himself. “I’ll think of a way.”
Henry pondered over the quickest and most efficient way to result in testing out his brother’s theory when it hit him.
“Eureka! That’s it!” He announced.
And with that, Henry slapped himself in the face. Hard. Leaving a red mark across his right cheek. At the same second Henry’s hand met his face, a red handprint revealed itself on Ralph’s face in the same exact spot. Henry’s handprint. The most recognizable handprint in their entire neighborhood.
“You both have the same injury!” Shouted Peter.
“Wow,” All three boys let out.
“Guess that settles it then,” Henry said, rubbing his cheek. “Gotta say, after all this time thinking my soulmate didn’t exist, I’m glad he does because I’m glad it’s you, Ralph.”
“Thanks, Henry,” Ralph smiled, “Me too.”
“Yeah, too bad mine still hurts though.”
“No worries,” Ralph said, casually kissing Henry on the cheek right where his handprint is. “For your troubles.”
“Say, I think that worked!” Henry beamed as Ralph’s kiss instantly made him feel better.
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. And I think we should form a new type of gang now. Perhaps one using your handprint as a logo. It looks cool!”
“Already on it, Ralph. Consider yourself second in command of the Purple Hand Gang,” Henry exclaimed, patting him on the back.
“Sounds good to me! And say, Henry, remember when you said if you ever found out who my soulmate was, you’d hit him in the face? I guess you ended up doing that after all!”
“Hey, I guess I did,” Henry agreed. They laughed, and as they did, they both knew it wouldn’t be the last laugh they would share together.