Chapter Text
Catra and Adora are four years old the first time they realize they have the same mark.
It happens after Ms. Weaver punishes Catra for sneaking out to play in the garden and getting her new pants dirty. Unlike her shirts and all of Adora's clothes, which are hand-me-downs, Ms. Weaver has to buy Catra's pants special because of her tail. She gets another lecture about how ungrateful she is and undeserving of new and nice things.
So the next time they sneak out to play in the mud, Catra convinces Adora that they should take off their clothes first and leave them on the porch. Problem solved.
Catra has never liked clothes anyway, and she has her fur to keep her warm. Adora is less lucky, shivering in her underwear. Catra is going to chase her around to warm her up, but then Adora looks at her and gasps.
“We're the same!” she says.
Catra is confused. She isn't sure what Adora is looking at, but she knows their bodies are very different—
Then Adora opens her arms, and Catra sees the shape on her abdomen, the reddish brown mark so much sharper in contrast to her pale skin than the matching imprint just above Catra's own stomach, nearly blending in under her fur. She's learning her letters and she thinks it looks kind-of like a curvy M. Seeing it on Adora's skin she feels something new, twisty and warm in gut.
Mine, she thinks.
She tackles Adora to the ground, and soon they are chasing each other around the garden as usual.
When they get caught, Ms. Weaver punishes her much worse than before, yelling that she's indecent and an animal.
Adora gets a much gentler lecture, even though she messed up the garden just as much as Catra did.
(They are not the same.)
Catra can tell the social worker is coming for a visit because Ms. Weaver takes out the scratching pads and Magicat enrichment toys she keeps locked away in the basement. She doesn't believe Catra deserves “preferential treatment” and she doesn't want to have to pay for new ones if these get worn out from actual use. But Starla expects to see them, and Catra is glad for the short-term relief of having things to play with that are built to handle her claws and fangs.
Catra listens intently to Starla and Ms. Weaver arguing on the other side of the door. Grown-ups never realize how much she can hear.
“They are too young. It's inappropriate,” Ms. Weaver hisses.
“They are about to start kindergarten, and they are going to be hearing about soulmates,” Starla says.
Adora tugs on her sleeve. “What are they saying?” she whispers. The sound comes out with a slight whistle because of the gap from her missing front tooth. Adora has learned from the way Catra's ears move when she's listening to something in another room or outside.
Usually she looks curious or impressed, but today Catra can tell she's afraid. Starla has always been nice, but everyone knows that a visit from a social worker can turn your life upside down.
“Shh,” Catra says.
“—All the more reason they never should have been placed together.”
“Research shows that there are mental health benefits—”
“Research on children this young is sparse and inconclusive. Adora was thriving in my care, she doesn't need to be...confused, or distracted.”
“They've clearly already bonded.” Starla's voice is firm now. “I understand your caution, but it is ultimately my decision whether this is best for their well-being.”
Catra hears approaching footsteps and turns her attention back to the toy she was kneading. Adora is still holding her shirt. She always sticks extra close to her when Starla comes around.
Starla finds them like that and her eyes are soft.
“Hello, girls,” she says. “I have something important to talk to you about.”
“What is it?” Adora asks, her voice wobbling.
“Do you know anything about soulmates?” Starla asks.
They look at each other. Catra shrugs.
“I-I think my mom and dad were soulmates,” Adora says.
Starla smiles encouragingly. “That's right. Soulmates are two people—or sometimes more than two people—who are destined to be together. Most people believe it's because they share a piece of their soul. Sometimes they are best friends, and sometimes grown-up soulmates date or get married like Adora's parents.”
Adora looks at Catra. “I want to share my soul with you.”
The twisty feeling Catra gets sometimes when Adora looks at her is back. “You do?”
“Of course,” she says. “You're my best friend!”
“You don't choose your soulmate,” Starla says, though she looks amused. “Everyone has a sign on their skin that matches their soulmate when they are born—it's called a soulmark.”
Adora's eyes go wide. “That's us, Catra! We have the same soulmark!”
Starla smiles. “You two are pretty special because most people have to wait until they are much older to meet their soulmate. But you both got assigned to me, and when I recognized the marks, I made sure you could be placed at the same home.”
“So...we get to stay together?” Catra asks.
“Yes,” Starla says. “As you get older, we will keep meeting to talk about what you both want and that might change.”
“I wanna be with Catra forever,” Adora says, clutching her tighter.
Catra doesn't say anything, but knows Adora can feel her purr. Adora knows what most of Catra's noises and movements mean, and she never gets mad when Catra uses them instead of her words like adults sometimes do.
Starla talks to them a little longer, and gives them some children's books about soulmates to keep. Catra can sound out some of the letters, but Adora can't read at all yet and just looks at the pictures. Most of the books are about regular people, but Adora's favorite quickly becomes the one about a princess and a knight, because of the swords and the horses.
“The princess does look like you,” Catra says, staring at the blonde, blue-eyed human in the illustration.
“I want to be the knight!” Adora says, waving her arm like she's wielding a sword.
“I want to be the dragon,” Catra says.
Adora looks at her in horror. “But then we'd be enemies!”
“The dragon is cool,” Catra says. “And it has eyes and fangs like mine.”
Adora does a double take. Both of the dragon's eyes are gold, and Catra only has one golden eye and one blue. But they are the right shape at least, and it looks more like her than either of the humans.
Adora frowns suddenly, her eyebrows crinkling. She begins flipping through all the books.
“There are no Magicats in any of these!” she says, clearly upset.
Catra shrugs. She's used to it. Ms. Weaver doesn't have any stories with Magicats either.
Catra notices other things about the books Starla brought though. Like how one of the books is about two friends, but all the other characters in the stories are in love or married.
She thinks about Adora saying, You're my best friend.
She wonders if when they get older, Adora might want to be the kind of soulmates that get married too.
They aren't supposed to share Adora's bed, but they do it anyway. Catra makes a show of getting into her own bunk before lights out, waits until the sounds of Ms. Weaver's footsteps retreat, and then scampers down the ladder and burrows into Adora's arms. She stays there until Adora falls asleep, then moves down to curl up at her feet. She's won't get smacked by Adora's tossing and turning that way, and Ms. Weaver will be less upset about Catra sleeping over the covers at the bottom of the bed than she will be if she finds them curled up under the blankets together in the morning.
If Adora's still awake after Octavia and Lonnie fall asleep in their bunks on the other side of the room, the two of them will stay up having whispered conversations.
They talk about whatever is on their mind, or trade stories back and forth about made up, fantastical worlds. They make plans for all the places they want to go and all the things they want to do when they're older, and talk about how they are always going to be together.
(Adora still never says anything like 'married,' so Catra doesn't either.)
When they start elementary school, Ms. Weaver forbids them from talking about being soulmates with their classmates. She says soulmates are private, and that none of the other kids will have them yet and they don't want to stand out.
She means she doesn't want Adora to stand out. Catra is the only Magicat in their school and one of only two hybrids in their class, plus her eyes are two different colors. She always stands out. The other kids all think she's weird. Or worse, cute.
Adora listens because she (mostly) follows the rules. Catra listens because being soulmates is something she doesn't want to talk about with anyone besides Adora anyway. She doesn't want to talk about anything with people who aren't Adora.
Adora is excited to make friends with the other kids though. Catra doesn't understand and she doesn't want to share. At first she hisses and bats at anyone who tries to talk to Adora, but then she gets sent home and doesn't get to be with her at all, so she changes tactics.
She clings to Adora all day. That way, even when Adora talks to other kids she's usually at least petting Catra. The kindergarten teacher eventually gives up on keeping her out of Adora's lap during lessons.
Catra listens to Adora talk to the other kids. The conversations are stupid and boring, and when Adora goes on too long or gets too excited about something actually interesting, the other kids think it's weird. So Adora learns not to do that as much—to “tone it down” as Ms. Weaver would say.
Adora still says they are her friends and she likes them, but Catra doesn't get it.
After kindergarten, teachers get more strict about Catra not sitting in Adora's lap. In third grade, the worst possible thing happens and they aren't even in the same class.
Catra ignores her assignment and follows Adora into her classroom with her the first day. When the teacher realizes she's not supposed to be there, Catra scales the highest piece of furniture in the room, a green filing cabinet that almost reaches the ceiling. They bring the janitor in with a ladder but she just digs her claws into the metal and he's too afraid to move her.
For the rest of the week, Ms. Weaver physically walks Catra into her own classroom, hand digging into her shoulder until she's sat at her desk and class is starting.
Every day at recess Catra and Adora run into each other's arms as if they have been separated for years.
Their classmates talk about soulmates sometimes, but always in the hypothetical, as something they'll have when they are adults or maybe teenagers. The ones who have soulmarks in obvious places not covered with clothes sometimes brag about it, saying how much easier it will be to find their soulmate before everyone else.
Catra and Adora just trade knowing looks and laugh.
While most people talk about soulmates positively, Ms. Weaver sows doubts into the concept wherever she can.
With Adora, she keeps it milder, reminding her that not everyone chooses to have their soulmate in their life. She warns her that soulmates have an undue influence on a person and can lead them astray. Adora tries extra hard to be good to prove Catra isn't a bad influence.
When Adora's not around, Ms. Weaver spells it out even more plainly.
You may have fooled your social worker that you're good for Adora for now, but once she sees how much you are dragging her down they will separate you.
One day Adora will see just how lazy and useless you are and your mark will not change that.
Adora was a prime candidate for adoption. She could have had a real family if you hadn't come along. Do you really think she'll love you once she realizes how much you have cost her?
Catra tries to ignore it, but the comments cast long, dark shadows in her mind.
Soulmates were an occasional topic in elementary school, but by middle school they are on everyone's lips. Everyone wants to talk about their dream qualities in a soulmate, or how to subtly ask their crush about their mark. There are debates about whether one should wait to find their soulmate(s) before dating, or if it's better to live in the moment and get “experience” first.
Not a lot of people seem to be fantasizing about finding their best friend, or maybe they're just quieter about it.
Ms. Weaver and Starla both have made it clear that as long as Catra and Adora live under the same roof, their relationship needs to remain platonic. Starla assures them that if their status changes, she will arrange for them to stay in the same area and still see each other. Catra doesn't trust it, but she also doesn't worry about it much because it doesn't seem like their status is in danger of changing any time soon.
Adults seem to think that once the hormones kick in young soulmates can't possibly resist each other, but Adora seems to be resisting her just fine. She still acts like they're best friends who happen to share a bed in secret. They talk about their future together like it's a given, but Adora never says anything implying they will be more than lifelong roommates. Catra doesn't know what to think.
Maybe she's a late bloomer and she'll want Catra back in a year or two. Maybe she's aromantic. Maybe Catra will have to watch her fall in love with someone else some day.
(Maybe no one, not even a person chosen by the universe to be hers, will ever want her.)
People think that Catra is the bad influence, but Adora has a wild streak.
Adora likes learning how to fix things and Weaver likes free labor, so she eventually has fairly unfettered access to the house toolbox. Their room is on the first floor, but there are bars on the windows. One afternoon Catra stands watch while Adora uses a screw driver to loosen the bolts just enough on one side that they should be able to unscrew them the rest of the way by hand.
After Octavia and Lonnie are asleep, they creep over to quietly open the window. Removing the screws, Adora carefully pushes the bars to create a gap, and the two of them slip out the window into the night.
“I can't believe that worked,” Catra says, then smirks. “Race you to the end of the block.”
She doesn't wait for an answer before she's off, sprinting on all fours in the moonlight.
She wins, like always. Adora complains that she's a cheater, like always.
“So, what now?” Catra asks.
Adora shoots her a feral grin that makes Catra's stomach flip. “I have an idea.”
She leads them to the old Alwyn house. It’s been abandoned for so long that other kids in the neighborhood say there’s a tree growing through the living room. There are rumors that it’s haunted, full of whispering voices that will slowly drive you mad, but Catra doesn’t believe in ghosts.
(Mostly.)
“Dare you to go on the porch,” Adora says, eyes flashing dangerously.
Catra rolls her eyes, “Psh, that’s easy.”
She puts a foot tentatively on the sagging first step, testing it before leaning on it with her full weight. She repeats the process until she's up the stairs and both feet are firmly on the rotting porch.
She sends Adora a challenging look, “Dare you to come up and look in the window.”
Adora's face sets in determination and she carefully steps up besides Catra, and then slowly crosses over to the boarded-up glass, leaning in to squint through the gaps in the wood.
“I see the tree!” she whispers excitedly.
“Why are you whispering?” Catra asks. “Afraid of the ghosts?”
Adora's jaw sets. “No. Are you?”
“Of course not,” Catra says.
Adora crosses her arms, looking entirely too smug. “Then I dare you to go inside.”
The door is padlocked, but that's no match for Catra's claws.
As she steps carefully through the entryway, Adora follows so close she can feel her breath on the back of her neck. Catra didn't dare her, but if one of them is going in, then they both are. It’s dark inside except for a few streaks of moonlight filtering in from cracks in the ceiling and window boards. She wonders if Adora can see anything at all in the low light.
Catra isn't sure if having Adora basically plastered to her back as they inch deeper into the building is putting her more or less on edge.
Her eyes catch movement off to the side, and she hears a skittering sound.
She's chasing after it before she has time to form a conscious thought.
Adora is still laughing at her. They are walking back to the home now, and Catra's hissed at her twice but she's not stopping.
Catra wasn't thinking when she ran after the mouse, but she has no real excuse for choosing to bring it back to Adora once she caught it. She tried to leave it, but her body refused to cooperate. Her stupid animal instincts insisted that she bring it with her, despite her rational brain knowing that was a bad idea.
“If you don't stop I'll bite you, and who knows what diseases I've contracted from that thing,” Catra warns.
“I'm sorry,” she says, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye and definitely not sounding sorry enough. “I'm sure you'll be fine, you've had all your shots. Please wash your mouth before you bite me though.”
“No promises,” Catra grunts.
“Aw, are you really upset?” Adora says. “I'm sorry I laughed. It was...sweet.”
“Sweet?” Catra says.
“You're trying to show that you can provide for me,” Adora says, in a sing-song voice that's worse than when she was laughing. “Because we're soulmates and you like me.”
“I do not!” Catra says, shoving her shoulder. “I hate you and I was trying to give you the plague.”
“Nuh-uh,” Adora teases. “In the future, when that instinct kicks in, maybe get me some chips from the corner store. Or, ooh! Those peanut butter cookies from the third floor vending machine at school? That machine is magic or something, the cookies from there just taste different...”
Adora still likes to read soulmate books. The more tortured and star-crossed and dramatic, the better. Sometimes Catra wonders if Adora feels like she missed out. They don't have an epic romantic story—they just grew up together. How is Catra supposed to compete with some fairytale heroine fighting through a magical war or alien invasion to save the person she loves?
She covers her insecurity by teasing Adora mercilessly about her reading choices.
“Good book, princess?” she asks, smirking.
They are at a table near the back of the school library during their shared free period. They are supposed to be studying, but the librarian couldn't care less and Adora is definitely hiding another romance novel in her textbook.
Adora rolls her eyes. “There aren't even any princesses in this one.”
“If there are no pretty blonde royals traipsing around, how are you supposed to self-insert?” Catra teases.
Adora looks up at her with an expression that is entirely too smug. “Did you just call me pretty?”
Catra pauses, meeting her eyes. “Yep.” The confidence slips a little from Adora's face as she starts to blush. “You're pretty...stupid. And so is that fairytale crap.”
Adora splutters and Catra laughs.
“You can't judge me, you love the Mer-Mysteries books,” Adora says.
“I don't love them,” Catra says. “And you'll be thanking me if we ever need to get away with murder.”
Adora snickers. “If we need to get away with murder under the sea, sure.”
Adora is going to a party.
Ms. Weaver has never let them go to parties where she will not be physically present to chaperone them—which has basically meant no parties since early elementary school birthdays. But they are going to high school next year and suddenly Ms. Weaver thinks Adora going to a party is a good idea. She trusts Adora to be mature and responsible, and thinks it is good for her to make “age-appropriate connections with her peers.”
There will be adults in the house, but what Ms. Weaver doesn't know is that the party is happening in the finished basement and will be mostly unsupervised.
A lot can happen between random pop-ins from parents.
Adora tried to convince Ms. Weaver to let Catra come, but even though she said no, Adora still went. By herself.
Catra spends the evening curled up in their bed and imagining worst case scenarios.
Adora liking her other friends better.
Adora giving into peer pressure to do something she's not comfortable with because Catra isn't there to look out for her.
Adora doing something stupid of her own free will because she's an idiot.
Adora playing spin the bottle/seven minutes in heaven/truth or dare and having her first kiss with someone who isn't Catra.
Adora deciding she likes kissing someone who isn't Catra.
Adora confessing to her friends that Catra is her soulmate and them making her realize what a raw deal the universe gave her by saddling her with a clingy loser.
Ms. Weaver brings Adora home shortly before lights out, and Catra is relieved that she seems unharmed and cheerful at least, but knows she won't say anything important about the party until they can talk freely.
After they go to bed, Catra stays in the top bunk. A few hot tears leak out as she stares at the wall, and it's so stupid and she doesn't want Adora to see. She doesn't remember ever staying up here so long—the mattress feels cold and stiff, and the bedding barely even has her scent.
“Catra?” Adora whispers after Octavia and Lonnie have fallen asleep.
She doesn't answer.
After a few minutes she hears the rustling of sheets from the bottom bunk, and then Adora clumsily climbing the ladder with her gangly limbs and bad night vision.
“Catra, are you mad at me about the party?” she asks hesitantly from the foot of the bed.
Catra lets out a watery hiss, refusing to look back at her.
But Adora is undeterred, and crawls over to spoon her, throwing an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her mane.
“What are you doing?” Catra says.
“Hugging you until you're not mad anymore,” she says simply.
Catra snorts, which is unattractive at the best of times, but is absolutely a mistake while she's been sort-of crying because it's snotty. No wonder Adora doesn't want to kiss her, she's disgusting.
“We'll be here forever then,” she says.
Adora hums. “That's okay with me.”
She presses a kiss to Catra's shoulder and Catra melts.
“I missed you too,” Adora says quietly.
Catra scoffs. “I didn't miss you.”
They lay in silence for several minutes before Catra gets the courage to ask, “Did anything...interesting happen at the party?”
“I beat two guys at arm wrestling, and stuffed fourteen cheese balls in my mouth on a dare,” she whispers proudly.
“Gross,” Catra said.
Adora giggles. “I could recreate that last thing for you if you're feeling left out.”
“Absolutely not.”
Starla lied.
She said if their relationship stayed platonic, they wouldn't be split up. But apparently the idea that two high school freshman who happen to be soulmates don't have or won't act on their attraction to each other is so inconceivable that she started looking for another placement for one of them ages ago.
Now all of Adora's stuff is packed and in the car, and she and Catra are crying and holding each other in the driveway. The sky is glaringly colorful as the sun sets, and if this was one of Adora's books, it would be the perfect backdrop for them to run away together.
Starla tries to approach but Catra growls and bares her teeth over Adora's shoulder. She is visibly startled. Ms. Weaver simply watches, silent and smug.
“Adora, we need to get going,” Starla tries again quietly.
Adora clutches Catra tighter, pressing her face into Catra's neck so forcefully it's a wonder she can even breathe. Catra continues to glower at Starla, fur puffed up and snarling.
She knows this isn't helping their case. She doesn't care. It's too late, their worst fear is already coming true.
Starla claims that she tried to disrupt their lives as little as possible by waiting until she could find a foster situation for Adora in the same school district, with a guardian who is familiar with their unorthodox circumstances and has agreed to allow Catra regular 'visitation' in their home.
But she's already proven she's a liar, and part of Catra believes that if she lets Adora get in that car she will never see her again.
“A little help here?” Starla says to Ms. Weaver.
“She won't actually bite you,” Ms. Weaver says, voice dripping with condescension. It's more confidence in Catra than she feels in herself at the moment. “She'll let go when Adora does. Give them another minute. Adora always makes the right choice in the end.”
After an indeterminable, far too short period of time, Adora loosens her hold and pulls back, eyes glassy as they meet Catra's.
Her face is red and puffy and still leaking and Catra would kiss her in a heartbeat.
“I-I'll see you at school,” Adora says softly, voice hoarse.
And then she's climbing into the car, turning back to face Catra after the door closes and pressing a hand against the window. Catra immediately mirrors with her own palm, feeling the glass vibrate as the engine starts.
Catra watches the car drive away and get smaller and smaller in the distance, until it finally turns a corner and disappears from view.
She runs on all fours back into the house and into their bedroom—not their bedroom anymore—and slams the door, diving into the bottom bunk and burying her face into the pillow that still smells like Adora.
Her chest is burning and her claws are out and she can't retract them, can't catch her breath and calm down. She sits up and shreds their bedding to tatters. She doesn't stop until she's dragging deep gashes into the mattress.
Several minutes later, as she lays in the debris, there's a knock at the door.
She doesn't bother answering. The door doesn't have a lock, and Ms. Weaver just opens it without waiting for a response like she always does. She often comes in with no warning at all, but a courtesy knock generally means she's in a benevolent mood.
Catra can't imagine why she's happy. She's always wanted to split Catra and Adora up, but she's made it clear that Catra was the one she wanted to get rid of. Now they're stuck with each other and her favorite is gone.
A warm, floral scent hits the air as she enters.
“I made you some calming tea from herbs in the garden,” Weaver says.
She doesn't even acknowledge the state of the bunk. It feels like a trap.
Catra sits up slowly, bracing herself. Weaver simply extends the mug to her.
Maybe the tea is poisoned. Catra is pretty sure Weaver started growing herbs that were toxic to Magicats back when she was an under-stimulated kit and kept escaping and tearing up the garden. One day she just started getting sick every time she played out there—Adora, who was her partner in crime more often than not, always felt fine.
“Drink up,” she says.
Against Catra's better judgment, she does. The flavor is mild but pleasant, and it does soothe her throat after all the crying and growling.
Weaver lowers herself onto the mattress next to her.
“I'm sure you are aware that in addition to her parents, Adora had a twin brother who died,” Ms. Weaver says.
She looks to Catra as if waiting for some kind of reply, but Catra has no idea where she's going with this and really doesn't feel like talking.
“Before her family died, she had always been part of a set,” Ms. Weaver continues. “Normally two minor soulmates in the state's care would never have been intentionally introduced. The odds for lasting relationships among soulmates who meet young aren't good, you know. But Starla thought the bond would help Adora work through her grief and trauma. I always thought it was a mistake, but I was overruled. Regardless, Adora has learned how to form healthy relationships with others, and is on track to be a normal, well-adjusted teenager. She doesn't need you as a crutch any more.”
Ms. Weaver stands, taking the empty mug from her.
“Adora may still believe in fairy tales, but you know better,” she says. “Meeting your soulmate doesn't guarantee a happily ever after. After all, parents are always supposed to always love you, and yours left you in a cardboard box on the side of the road. One day, Adora is going to wake up from the fantasy of soulmates and face the reality. And what do you really have to offer her?” She leans down, stroking the tufts of fur under Catra's ears. “I know I have been hard on you. I was trying to prepare you for this.”
Catra leans into the touch, hating herself for already being so starved for affection when Adora just left—
“There, there,” Ms. Weaver says. “Get some rest.”
Then she leaves, and Catra is truly alone.