Work Text:
November 16, 2021; 8:13AM.
The date and time have been burned into Alex’s memory for as long as they’ve been tattooed on the inside of his wrist.
On the morning following his eighteenth birthday, the artificial intelligence spit out that configuration within seconds of reading his genetic code. It was so quick that even the tester was shocked, blinking at the numbers that etched themselves onto Alex’s skin.
“Your soul match is probably really strong,” she explained, smiling warmly at him.
Once outside the looming gray building, Alex stared at the freshly inked dark lines. The abnormally warm spring sun shining on the top of his head made him squint, but the date and time were easy to see. On that day, the predestined moment was still five and a half years away. It seemed like ages for Alex; patience had never been one of his virtues.
Alex pressed his fingertips to the mark and felt his tenacious pulse hammering away beneath it. It was as if his heart was overcome with euphoria, thrilled to know that Alex’s soulmate was out there, somewhere.
Maybe, just maybe, they were looking down at the same array of lines with a gentle reverence, breath caught in their lungs and hope held in their chest.
“I’ll see you soon,” Alex whispered, even though it didn’t feel soon enough to him. “I hope it’s okay that it’s me.”
Alex touched his lips to the raised and already scarring skin, inhaled slowly, and started counting.
💞⌛💞⌛💞⌛💞⌛
It's not a perfect system.
There are instances—rare but well-documented—when the time that someone is supposed to meet their soulmates passes by and nothing happens. In some cases, it’s because something has changed since the time that the test was run. Deaths are the most common explanation, but there have been illnesses or family emergencies every now and then, too.
More frequently, soulmate bonds fail after meeting. Free will is a fickle thing that can alter the course of someone’s life irreversibly. People leave or choose other paths regardless of who their soulmate is. It’s always a possibility.
As it turns out, not everything can be predicted.
It’s usually a choice, though. There have only been a few case studies where the source of a failed or changed soulmate link was something more inexplicable.
What happened to Alex’s parents is one of them.
They met when they were supposed to, with matching dates and times on their wrists, in April of 1995. It was an immediate connection, the kind that the world expects when two people are soulmates. They fell in love, they had two kids, got a house with enough room for everyone, and were living their lives the way they were meant to.
But then something shifted—the careers and the kids and all the added stress put a strain on their relationship. They became so fucking miserable in each other’s presence that they went back to the testing center, knowing in their hearts, in their souls, that something was wrong.
They were tested again, and both of their readings came back with different dates.
Ellen’s was for a date in the future—October of 2012. The day she would meet Leo. Oscar’s new date was already passed, the day that he first met an old friend from high school; they would randomly reconnect nearly a decade after the divorce.
His parents had to answer a lot of questions and fielded a lot of judgment, but the ultimate conclusion was that not every soulmate bond is meant to last forever. Sometimes, people have multiple soulmates, for different times in their life. Things change.
Alex tries not to let that deter him from believing in his own chance at forever. He looks at June and Nora as a good example. They knew from the moment June’s tattoo was etched that they were soulmates. Nora is good with dates and numbers, so as soon as June came in with a date and time from November of 2015, Nora beamed and sang, “It’s me!”
They’ve been together, happily, ever since.
There are more success stories than failures, more happy endings than tragic ones. And in the end, all the system can do is point a person in the right direction. It’s always up to them what they do with it.
Alex doesn’t have any logical reason to believe that he’ll be one of the lucky ones.
All he has is hope. Hope and this profound, steady, and stubborn feeling deep in his chest.
His soulmate will be good. Will be his. Forever. He knows it.
💞⌛💞⌛💞⌛💞⌛
“What if I'm not supposed to be here?”
Nora huffs. “It doesn't work like that.”
Alex casts her a sidelong glance. “So how does it fucking work?”
“I—” Nora scowls, poking him in the arm with her sharp fingernail. “Shut up. Just because I don't know this one thing—because the powers that be don’t explain it—doesn't mean you can just make up rules because you're nervous.”
“I'm not nervous,” Alex lies, dodging when Nora tries to elbow him. “I’m just… questioning the logistics and wondering if I should be in a different location.”
“We come to this goddamn coffee shop every Thursday morning to get caffeine and cope with the ongoing horrors of being alive,” Nora says, yanking the door open and gesturing aggressively for him to walk in ahead of her. “It’s more logical not to break patterns.”
Rolling his eyes, Alex ducks inside. He’s immediately engulfed in warm air that smells like caramel and coffee beans, a safe harbor from the cold, dreary morning. The fog outside is heavy and lingering, leftover humidity clinging to each molecule of air after last night’s rain.
It’s chilled Alex to his bones all morning; it feels like a bad omen. Nora has already threatened to kill him three times for experiencing “extremely fucking inconvenient levels of melancholy” on the day he’s meant to meet his soulmate.
Whatever. He’s coping the best he fucking can. What he’s looked forward to for more than five years is suddenly here, in front of him, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act or what he’s supposed to feel. There isn’t a rule book for this shit and everyone’s stories are different—sue him if not knowing what to expect has him a little on edge.
Nora orders first and moves toward the pickup spot, and Alex orders his usual coffee with cinnamon. He’s not sure he’ll be able to actually consume it without turning his stomach, but having that modicum of familiarity in his routine offers him the smallest slice of comfort.
“Anything else for you?” the barista asks, smiling when she glances up from her screen to meet his eyes.
Point me in the direction I should be in to meet my soulmate sounds like something that probably isn’t on the menu. Alex shakes his head, pays, and moves to stand by Nora at the other end of the counter.
Alex can feel his nervous energy thrumming in his body as the seconds tick by. It’s not panic, not quite, but it feels like he could get there quickly from where he’s at. Nora reaches out and wraps a comforting hand around his elbow without saying a word when the clock above the waiting area chimes. A tiny bird darts out of the window at the top of the structure exactly eight times.
8:00AM. Thirteen more minutes.
Alex peers outside the window as if he might be able to see his soulmate coming. He has no idea who they are, what they look like. There’s a blurred image in his mind that’s been filling his dreams and his nightmares for months, vague and shapeless and never lingering long enough for him to remember a single detail when he wakes.
But every time, he opens his eyes and knows that they’re beautiful—inside, outside, from the smallest cells to the largest muscles and everywhere in-between. His soul already knows their soul intimately, he thinks; it’s like he can sense that other part of himself out there and just needs to stretch out a hand to grab it. Only, every time, it feels just out of his reach.
He has to remind himself that it’s supposed to be that way.
The fog outside is thick and heavy, though, and Alex can’t see beyond the first row of cars in the parking lot. Even the inside of the coffee shop is getting crowded enough that he can’t lay eyes on every single face at the same time. He thinks he would feel it if he saw them, like something within him would recognize his soulmate if they locked eyes.
Nothing stirs in his heart as he examines the room. Nothing in his chest tugs him in a certain direction. Nothing sparks in his lungs as patrons come in and out of the door, the bell signalling their arrivals and departures.
At 8:10, Nora stretches up to kiss his cheek, smacks it immediately after, and says she’ll wait outside.
“Let me know if you need me to rescue you,” she tells him, squeezing at his bicep. “I won’t do it, but let me know.”
Despite himself, Alex smiles. “You’re the worst.”
She grins. “Love you, too.”
Alex watches her go and slides into a taller table in the corner, away from the crowd but in direct view of the door. He doesn't really know how this works, but being visible from multiple vantage points seems like a smart idea.
His coffee is already growing tepid, but his stomach is twisting too much to drink it anyway. He taps his foot against the leg of the table, the bar stool high enough that his toes can't touch the ground.
8:11.
A small boy walks by with a chocolate croissant, melted goo covering his fingers. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he indulges himself in his treat and completely unaware of anything else going on around him. Thankfully, someone walking in holds the door for him to avoid him getting any chocolate on the handle as he leaves. The person has a hood pulled up over their head and walks quickly up to the barista to order, here for a purpose that clearly has nothing to do with Alex.
Alex glances around again, his heart in his throat and making it hard to breathe.
But he doesn’t see anyone, doesn’t feel anything yanking in his chest.
He thinks maybe he’s supposed to.
Shouldn’t he feel something?
Has he done something wrong?
8:12.
One of the baristas calls to their coworker, asking them to grab more cold brew from the back. A line is forming again, nearly to the door. There’s the distinct sound of milk steaming, a bit choppy, like either the person is new or the machine is giving them a hard time. The heat clicks on, and Alex must be sitting near one of the vents, because he’s blasted with a burst of warm air.
Someone near the door cackles. The barista that comes in from the back with cold brew curses when he sees the line.
Outside, the fog still lingers.
It feels like it’s trying to suffocate Alex from a distance.
It feels like it’s succeeding.
8:13.
Alex looks at his watch as the minute ticks over. It doesn’t make a sound, but Alex swears he can fucking hear it, like the thunk of a grandfather clock’s hand at the climax of a suspense film. Eerie silence follows from within Alex’s mind, and he lets his attention move around the room, his muscles wound tight as he hopes he’ll find what he’s looking for even though he doesn’t know what the hell it is.
And… nothing.
No locked eyes from across the room. No one sliding into the seat across from him. The world continues to turn, with Alex sitting here at a coffee shop and wondering where his soulmate could possibly be during the most important moment of their lives.
Maybe it's only important in Alex's life.
That's the problem, usually. Alex always cares more, too much. It's why his heart gets broken so often in the same way that it's breaking right now. Staying in bed and never knowing might have been preferable to this, to the ache that’s starting to tighten in his throat, to the dread pooling deep in his gut.
He texts Nora nothing happened, waits, and then sends maybe mine was wrong.
She doesn’t respond immediately, and staring at their messages is only making Alex want to scream. He closes that app, searches the room again, looks back down at his phone and opens a search, thinks about typing out “What happens if my soulmate doesn’t show up when they’re supposed to?” and decides against it.
Fuck.
Going back home feels too daunting—his entire family knows that today is the day, that now is the time. Alex traces the dark lines on his wrist for the millionth time since he got them and wonders how he’s supposed to tell everyone that he somehow must have gotten miswired, that he must have done something to ward off the other half of his soul.
It feels like another item on the list of things Alex wanted but wasn’t allowed to have—parents who stay together, a successful career that doesn’t make him want to die, a sense of knowing where he’s going, a soulmate that fucking shows up when they’re supposed to.
Maybe they did. Maybe they saw him and read the frenetic energy that emanates from him plus the anxious watch-checking and decided that they would rather not have that as a soulmate. Maybe they don’t believe in the sanctity of soulmates at all, and they’re at home, in bed with a cat or a dog and wondering about the poor sap sitting here alone in a fucking coffee shop.
Does Alex just give up? Does he go back to the cold, gray building from years ago and demand a redo?
He opens Google again and closes it again before putting his phone face down on the table and dropping his head into his hands.
There’s no point in staying here, but leaving feels final, like he’s accepted this cruel twist of fate.
But what else is he supposed to do?
His watch reads 8:14AM. Alex closes his eyes at the sight.
He can’t just sit here.
With a sigh of frustration, Alex shoves his chair back from the table to stand, and the legs make a loud and jarring sound as they scrape across the floor. He’s fully planning on keeping his head down as he makes a beeline toward the door, leaving his untouched coffee behind. Nora should be waiting on him, and maybe if he’s lucky, he can convince her that drinking before noon is a good idea.
But Alex never makes it to the door.
As soon as he’s stood from his table and taken a step, he’s met with the immovable force of a strong, sturdy chest. It throws him off balance, and he nearly topples to the ground at the sudden jolt. Long arms catch him by the waist, though, holding up him, and Alex looks up to find—
Oh.
“Hi,” the beautiful man in front of him says. His hair is mussed, his stunning blue eyes are wide, and his bottom lip has the distinct imprint of teeth in it. There’s something sharp and gorgeous in the cut of his gaze, in the way one corner of his mouth twists up into the ghost of a smile, in the way his hands are still on Alex’s body as if that’s where they’re meant to be.
For maybe the first time in his life, Alex is speechless.
Thankfully, those bitten and soft lips open to fill the silence. “You’ll have to forgive me. I believe I’m meant to be meeting you right now, but I… I walked in and you were the only person in here looking at your wrist and your watch, so it must be you, which put me in quite the state, because… Christ, well. You’re stunning, and I think something in my brain has been rewired, and it didn’t make sense to me at first that someone so lovely could be my… my soulmate. I apologize that I’m rambling on like a maniac, but—”
Alex finally finds his voice. “November 16th, 2021?”
“Yes.” The man nods, and the smile that lights up his face is the sun—it creates a crease at the corner of his eyes that Alex aches to touch. “At eight thirteen in the morning.”
And there it is—the click in Alex’s chest of something falling into place, the crisp intake of air into Alex’s deprived lungs as he realizes that this is his person, that the alignment of stars and planets in the universe designed them as two halves of the same whole. He inhales a slow, even breath. The thrumming energy and rampant anxiety that have been plaguing him clear in an instant, as if they were never there in the first place, when Alex looks his soulmate in the eyes and just knows.
Alex’s grin hurts his cheeks, and his fingertips tentatively brush the underside of the arms that are still holding him. “You're late, baby.”
His soulmate laughs, breathless and shaky, his eyes sparkling and blue like the Gulf waters on a clear July day. “Technically, I believe I caught you on time.”
“My watch says otherwise.”
“You should get your watched checked. Recalibrated, perhaps. Having the correct time is vital.”
Alex shakes his head as he chuckles, already falling in love as he steps back and holds out his hand. “I’m Alex, and I just spent sixty seconds wondering if you either a, locked yourself in your room to avoid meeting me or b, took one look to realize who your soulmate was and booked it in the other direction.”
The man takes his hand to shake it, and their touch lingers, skin on skin, atoms on atoms, drawn together and unable to be separated. “I’m Henry, and neither are true. It’s… a pleasure to meet you, love.”
“Good, yeah. Me, too,” Alex agrees, lowering his hand but keeping Henry’s held in it. The tangled digits hang between their bodies, a tether keeping them connected. “So what brings you here?”
Henry tilts his head. “You, I suppose.”
“Right.” Alex brushes his thumb across Henry’s knuckles, watching as Henry’s attention lowers to that contact. “But actually.”
“My best friend works here,” Henry says, nose crinkling. “I was so nervous about today, about trying to decide where to go, and I just… felt like I needed to see him for a moment. But my bus was delayed so I didn’t walk in until 8:11, and I saw you sitting here, and then…”
“And then,” Alex echoes, his eyes catching on Henry’s mouth for a moment before he looks back up into Henry’s knowing gaze. “Well, do you have time? Can I buy you a coffee?”
“Tea would be lovely.”
Alex scoffs. “Jesus, of course, because you’re fucking British.”
“English, specifically.”
“Do you always go around correcting people?”
“Do you always go around getting things incorrect?”
And oh, it’s like magic—that back and forth, the easy teasing that Alex wants to bottle and keep in his pocket, the otherworldly feeling that they were made to do exactly this for the rest of their lives.
“I’m fucking right about everything, actually.” Alex tilts his head. “Ask me something.”
Henry purses his lips, considering. “What is your favorite film in the Star Wars franchise?”
“Easy, ‘Empire.’”
“You see,” Henry says, his fingers tightening around Alex’s hand even as he disagrees. “In my eyes, that is incorrect.”
“Then you’re wrong.”
“It’s a shame we’ll never be able to truly solve this argument, hm?”
“Whatever, Mary Poppins. I’ll get you your tea.” Alex rolls his eyes, feeling playful and alive. “Honey? Sugar?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Cool, yeah. If you want to hang here and sit down, I can go to the counter and—” Henry’s mouth is curling into a barely concealed smile. “What?”
Henry’s eyes constrict as he presses his lips together, and Alex replays the last minute of their conversation and—
“You were…” Alex lets go of Henry’s hand and slides his palm over his face. “You were being funny, because I said… honey and sugar, like a pet name. I’m—fuck, you’re cute. I can’t believe you’re…” He pauses, the words feeling a little heavy on his tongue. “... you’re my soulmate.”
“I am.” Something passes over Henry’s features, his expression sobering. “And that’s alright, then? Not looking for a return or exchange?”
Alex shakes his head immediately, adamantly. “Not at all. You?”
“I’m quite happy with the circumstances, actually.”
Henry smiles until his eyes crinkle, and Alex wonders how soft his lips would be if they kissed right now. He knows he probably shouldn’t—they only met five minutes ago—but it doesn’t hurt for him to think about it.
They have time for those things.
Maybe forever.
“Good,” Alex says, winking. “Now, honey, what do you want in your unconstitutional tea?”
“If you’ll ask them to leave some room, I can add my own cream and sugar from their bar,” Henry says, pausing dramatically before adding, “... pumpkin.”
Alex tosses his head back and laughs, which makes a grin stretch across Henry’s face, and God, but he’s beautiful. Lethal, even. There’s this weird and effervescent twist in Alex’s chest as he tries not to look too far ahead, but their future already feels so tangible, like he could reach out and touch their firsts with his fingertips.
He’s thinking about his first time getting his mouth on Henry’s bare skin and first fights and first times having makeup sex and a first dance at their spring wedding and—
And first kisses. He really can’t stop fucking thinking about that.
So when Henry sits down and Alex goes to move past him toward the register at the front of the store, he pauses. Holding his breath, he puts one hand on the back of Henry’s chair and the other on the side of Henry’s face.
And on November 16th, 2021 at 8:21 on the foggiest morning, Alex presses a sweet first kiss to his soulmate’s lips.
They are soft. The world pauses the moment that their mouths touch, but inside of Alex is a frenzy of motion that he has to swallow down. He’s kissing his soulmate in the middle of a coffee shop on a Tuesday morning, and his soulmate is touching gentle fingers to Alex’s jaw and kissing him back. It’s chaste and modest, no matter how much Alex wants to let his tongue tease that seam of Henry’s lips, but the slide of their mouths as they kiss still sets Alex on fire.
When Alex pulls away, he curses under his breath with his eyes still closed. “Sorry, fuck. I just… had to.”
“That's alright,” Henry breathes, and when Alex opens his eyes, Henry looks a little dazed as he stares at Alex’s mouth. “You could do it again if you’d like.”
“I might want to do it forever,” Alex admits, brushing his thumb over the apple of Henry’s flushed cheek.
Henry beams. “That’s alright, too. We have it, don’t we?”
Alex can’t help it—he seals their lips together again. Henry makes the happiest sound in his throat, and he’s the one that opens his mouth beneath Alex’s and lets their tongues brush. It’s a kiss filled with untouched possibility, with endless potential, with the unshakable promise of more.
Something good. Something his. Something forever.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Alex whispers against Henry’s lips, believing it with every fiber of his being. “We have forever.”