Chapter Text
Eric had always pictured his soulmate as a hot girl who would be with him whenever he wanted. Someone who played Doom and listened to KMFDM. But eight months ago he had decided on being a god that defied fate. He would never meet his soulmate. All he would know would be her name.
All his dreams of being with someone had been erased the moment NBK came into being. He would not throw away months of hard work because of some chick, who would probably think he was some racist psycho.
Dylan had always babbled on about who his soulmate might be when he got drunk. It pissed Eric off. That shit was so stupid.
My soulmate this my soulmate that. Didn't he see that he mattered more than some slut? He was a literal god. He was the one going NBK with him. No bitch ever could.
She could never make bombs like Eric did. She could never lie to her parents like Eric did. She could never fucking understand Dylan like Eric did.
Dylan never talked about sex. All he ever mentioned was true love. Sometimes Eric wondered if he knew he sounded like a chick.
He could understand being upset about not getting any, but never about not being loved. Love was just another one of those words that meant nothing. Plenty of people claim to love one another but then hurt them.
Maybe he was a hypocrite. He loved his parents, but he still planned to go ahead with NBK. But he was allowed to be a hypocrite. He was a god.
"Just a week until your birthday!" His mother said.
"Mmhm," Eric hummed.
"What do you want?"
"I don't know. Just buy me whatever."
She rolled her eyes. "Alright."
Eric's stomach sank. To his mother, it was just another birthday, but he knew it would be his last one.
"Hi," Eric said
"Hey," the girl turned to him and smiled.
"How was your weekend?"
"Pretty awful. I had to help my parents around the house," she rolled her eyes.
"That's a shame."
"Is your birthday next week? Are you planning something?"
"Not really. I'm not big on parties."
"Well, can I come over?"
Eric stilled. "Can't. I'm going to my grandmother's. " he lied.
"Well that kind of is a plan," she laughed.
"I guess it is."
"Well, have fun with your grandma," she teased and turned around.
Eric was left in the hallway smiling.
Dylan watched as he followed her with his eyes. After she was gone, he turned around and walked away.
The stinging in his chest was hard to ignore. Maybe Eric had already found his soulmate.
He could see it in the way that she looked at him, that she admired him. She talked so easily with him. Eric was a different person with her too. He was happier
Maybe Eric didn't even need Dylan. He could execute NBK on his own. Dylan was destined to die alone and be forgotten. Eric was the opposite of that.
He was charismatic and charming. Smart and passionate. He was so much better than Dylan. That's why he would get a soulmate, but Dylan would not. Despite their plans, fate decided Eric was worthy of love. He wasn't a freak like Dylan.
It was to be expected. The god of sadness was the magnet of bad luck. He only ever got rejected. Only ever got hurt.
"Do you think it's Susan?" Dylan said after taking a puff of his cigarette.
"What?"
"Your soulmate."
"I'm going to punch you in the face, V. Shut the fuck up about soulmates."
"I'm sorry," he tried not to cry.
"No. She's not my fucking soulmate," Eric said after a pause.
"How do you know?"
"I just feel it."
Dylan remained unconvinced. Maybe he had multiple soulmates. He talked to plenty of girls.
"What if you're wrong?"
"I don't give a shit."
"Aren't you a bit curious?" He asked; the sadness had subsided.
"No."
Dylan sighed. He wasn't going to back out of NBK. He doesn't even have a soulmate. He was just wondering. But for some reason even that pissed Eric off.
"Should I get you something for your birthday?" He asked.
Eric ignored how gay the thought was. None of his male friends got him anything. "No point."
"True. I won't then. Are we gonna make some more shit, or nah?"
"On Friday?" Dylan nodded. "'Aight." He looked around. "Well dude," Eric dropped the cigarette to the ground and put his foot over it. "Gotta go. Can't miss classes. My parents are gonna be pissed."
Dylan nodded.
"Okay..." Dylan sighed
"Hi!" She greeted. Eric turned to look at her. He smiled. "How's your day going?"
"Nothin' to complain about."
"That's good. My math teacher always gives me crap for not writing legibly."
"Maybe she should get her eyes tested."
She smiled. "So... Are you excited?"
"For what?" Eric hoped this wasn't going where he thought it was.
"For your mark," she tried not to show too much emotion.
"Yeah," he lied.
"Do you know who it is?" She looked at him with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
"If I knew, there'd be no point in it, would there?"
Her laugh made Eric warm inside. "I suppose not." She looked to the floor. "If it was someone you knew," she looked at him. "Would you tell her?"
"Probably," he lied again.
"You'd ruin the surprise?"
"Well, I don't wanna be some asshole."
"Yeah. I'd probably feel like shit if someone didn't tell me."
"Me too," he hummed before spotting a familiar face. "Shit. I gotta go."
"Oh. Well, talk to you later then."
Eric smiled and nodded before turning to make his way to Dylan.
"What's up?" He asked.
"So she can talk about soulmates all she wants, but when I do it, you're mad."
"Shut the fuck up."
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Are we gonna make some more shit for NBK tonight?"
Eric looked around. "Yeah, alright."
He spotted a car through the living room window. A tall, lanky man popped up by the door. Eric made his way to the door. Without even having to knock, the door before Dylan opened.
Eric moved over to let the other in. "My mom's at work."
They went down to the basement, and Eric didn't miss the way his friend scratched at his wrist. He had been doing that a lot lately.
He crouched down by the bed and felt around with his hand. Once it bumped against something, Eric smirked and pulled it.
He placed the black box further on the floor.
"I gotta piss," Dylan said. Eric nodded and opened the box. After a few creeks followed the shutting of a door.
He took a pair of gloves from the table and took out the supplies.
They already had about a hundred (if Eric had to guess) different explosives, half of which were crickets. The thought of expanding on their equipment made Eric smile. He couldn't wait to be remembered as a god amongst men. The one who committed the most atrocious act of terrorism in all of American history.
He could picture the crying faces of his schoolmates and their families. He could smell their fear and terror. It made him warm deep in his gut. It was a sick kind of feeling. One that made him want to vomit in a good way.
Dylan opened the door and rushed down the stairs. He grabbed his pair of gloves before sitting on the floor in front of Eric, the black box in between them.
The dark lines on Dylan’s wrist stood out to Eric. They were straight and decently spaced. He wondered why Dylan did it to himself. Maybe he was some sort of weird masochist?
Dylan cleared his throat and pulled down his sleeves. "Give me the pipes," he said. Eric did as told.
He couldn't believe it when he was lying in his bed, and the clock read 11:30 PM on a Thursday. He wasn't planning on waiting until his soulmark appeared. It was merely a coincidence he played Doom in the computer room for so long.
Even though the last WAD he played sucked ass, Eric decided to give it another chance. The screen displayed a dark and fairly edgy atmosphere. The buildings were gloomy and grey around him. The enemies appeared from behind the corners. It got pretty repetitive after five minutes, but just a while later, he got into a building that was all red and had a huge demon in the middle of it.
Truth be told, it pissed him off. He died several times to the ugly monster, but it just made him want to kick the character's ass even more. He tried to keep his rage at least semi-concealed, to not let his parents know he was still up.
Before he knew it, his wrist had started to burn. Confused and irritated, Eric looked at it. It was pink. The distraction had made him take considerable damage.
After a string of whispered curses, the man lost the game again and threw the controller away.
He reached to scratch his wrist and it provided him with temporary release before becoming too much and starting to sting.
Eric let out a frustrated groan. As he recalled from middle school, soulmarks took hours to develop. Nobody ever mentioned that it would itch. The teacher mentioned "an uncomfortable feeling", but that was a goddamn understatement.
The basement was chill and the air sent a wave of relief through his pink skin. Eric sighed.
He dropped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he would tell the girl. It wouldn't hurt to have a quick fuck.
If fate knew what would happen, wouldn't it have introduced him to the girl sooner? None of the girls he knew felt like his soulmates.
Maybe fate was just retarded. Just like humanity. Anything related to it was retarded really.
The skin on his wrist turned greyish. It was impossible to make out a letter yet.
Eric laid on his side and closed his eyes. After a deep sigh, he opened them again and took off his pants and shirt. He discarded the clothing on the floor.
When he flopped back down, he closed his eyes again.
He was awakened by the alarm. It was the last day of school this week. After that Dylan and him could make more bombs.
He picked up the clothes from the floor and put them on his bed. When he opened his closet, he took his KMFDM shirt and a pair of black jeans and underwear. Harris grabbed the clothes on his bed and went to discard them in the bathroom.
He put the new clothes in a pile on the counter and took off his boxers.
The water was cold and took a while to regulate. Eric wiped his face. His wrist was covered in black ink.
Dylan Bennet Klebold.
Eric froze. This had to be some sick nightmare.
"Hey," she said. "Happy Birthday!"
"Thanks."
She eyed the clothed wrists. "Wanna take off that trenchcoat?" She asked. Eric flushed and looked to the side. "Show me your mark, I mean."
"She doesn't want anyone to know."
"You already talked to her?" She looked at the ground.
"Yeah. I said I would."
"Yeah. Right," she laughed. "I gotta go, Eric."
"Okay."
He was sick. What the actual fuck was wrong with fate? Nobody ever said gay soulmates existed. That's why it was so wrong.
"What the fuck," he found himself saying over the toilet. He was sure he would vomit, but nothing came out.
He felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
This was a mistake. He wasn't disgusting. He didn't like Dylan like that.
"What's up, fag?" He heard a familiar voice behind him. A man with a white cap put his hand on Eric's head and pushed it down. It didn't touch the water but hurt his neck.
"Get the hell away from me!" Eric turned around. He was faced with two smug assholes staring at him. "Don't you have to piss or something? The fuck are you-"
"Wouldn't you like to see that?"
"Why are you crying?" He said with fake sympathy. "Y'know. A little birdie told me it's your birthday."
Eric's face morphed into that of disgust.
"Are you sad you can't be with your boyfriend?" He looked at the other fag for his reaction. He was laughing.
"I'm angry I'm stuck with your fat slut of a mother!" Eric said. In an instant, the jock's expression hardened. He approached Eric and grabbed the back of his head. The man's hands shot up, but he couldn't free himself. The angry jock turned him around and bashed his face against the toilet seat.
Eric felt his nose crack. The jock turned around and left. His buddy followed him out with an expression of horror.
He started crying. His brain didn't register the sharp sting in his nose.
His nose didn't bleed. He stared at the mirror for several minutes, but his reflection didn't change.
He left the bathroom with a sigh and hurried to his locker. He missed the class by a few minutes and got scolded by a teacher. It would have been embarrassing and would have pissed Eric off if he wasn't thinking about his horrid fate.
Dylan eyed him but kept talking to Brooks. If anything, Brown deserved a gay soulmark. He was the gayest man Eric had ever talked to (not counting a dude from the TCM he had bumped into once). They were cool now, but the man's gayness was still evident.
Dylan’s presence made Eric's stomach flip. Was Dylan in love with him? Is that why he suggested their mission be called Natural Born Killers?
"Harris!" The teacher exclaimed. The class turned their heads and locked their eyes on the pale boy. He had puked on his desk and the floor.
The man approached the teen and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Eric shook his head. He felt another wave coming. "I will be right back; class is still in session," he told the students and speed walked to the door.
Students were turning away in disgust. They were whispering stupid shit.
"Eric?" Dylan said.
"Get the fuck-" There it was. More vomit. It made Eric cough. Klebold looked away. "Fuck off!" A tinge of hurt and confusion flashed in his mind.
He walked back to Brooks, who was staring out the window. Some students were leaving the classroom with their shit.
Eric felt dizzy. He felt like he was dying.