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Shawn wasn’t too open to the idea of a soulmark, like he had no control over who he ended up with. But, as long as it wasn’t Cory he could deal with it.
The lights in the hallway buzzed loudly as Shawn was cracking some joke about how Cory's hair could house a whole ecosystem. Cory rolled his eyes in return.
“Oh, that's how it is?” Shawn smirked “Thats exactly how it is.” Shawn tried to move out of the way, but cory got there first—he laughed and pushed Shawns shoulder, not hard, just a playful nudge that had them both grinning.
And then it tingled.
Red.
A bright unmistakable red light bloomed under Cory's hand and tingled through the fabric of Shawns sweatshirt. Shawn knew what red meant. He looked at his shoulder then at Cory. Neither of them said anything for a solid three seconds
“Don’t—” he said, too sharp, too fast, like he was choking on it.
Cory pulled his hand away, watching the red flicker away but stain. It doesn't go away, not really. “Shawn,”
“—Stop” Shawn choked.
“Shawn.” Cory felt his palm pulse.
Cory pulled his hand away slowly “That was red.” Red like a rose that just got put in a new vase. Burning—searing red.
Shawn swallowed hard, heart thundering in his chest. “No. No, it wasn’t. It was- it was the light. The sun, or something.”
“We’re inside, in the hallway. There is no sun” Cory rubbed at the red palm.
Shawns shoulder tickled, kind of.
He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie like that could somehow erase what had just happened. Like he could hide it—hide himself if he tried hard enough.
Cory looked down at his own tainted hand. It had stopped glowing, but the color hadn't left. It seems to pulse in his fingers. Like it didn't need to glow to burn.
“It’s red.” Cory said, softer—gentler. “Isn’t that romanti—”
“Don’t say that!” Shawn took a deep breath, his voice came out sharp and angry, even though he didn’t mean it to.
“Why?” Cory asked, eyes wide “why does it scare you so much?”
That made Shawns head snap up, eyes sharp.
“Because it’s not supposed to be you okay?! Anyone but you.”
The words spilled out before he could stop them. His voice cracked right down to the middle.
Cory didn’t flinch. But something in him shifted—hurt flickering across his features like lightning being blinded by clouds.
Shawn closed his eyes, ashamed. He didn't mean it like that. Not really.
He stepped back. “This didn’t happen,” he said, quieter now. Almost pleading. “We didn't see anything. It was a mistake or something. Maybe I'm broken.”
Cory blinked “You’re not broken.”
“You don’t know that.”
Cory moved like he wanted to step forward but stopped himself. His hand hovered like it hadn’t just put a mark on his best friend forever.
“We can just pretend,” Cory offered. “Shawn, this didn't have to mean anything. Okay?”
Shawns jaw clenched.
Shawn turned his head away. That was the worst part. It couldn't mean anything shouldn’t— but it had, for one brief second, before the panic set in. It felt like gravity had found a new center.
“I gotta go.” he muttered, already walking.
Cory watched him disappear down the hall, his hand still aching like the glow was still there, just beneath the skin.
And all he could think was:
It happened.
And Shawn was running from it.
-
The air inside the trailer was too still. Too quiet.
Shawn sat on the floor beside his bed, knees pulled up, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, fingers clenched tight in the fabric. He just sat there, staring down at the bright red mark on his shoulder from his soulmate, from Cory Matthews. He still felt the faint mark, like it might catch fire at any moment.
The glow hadn’t lasted for more than a few seconds, but it had happened. He’d seen it, felt it.
Red.
Shawn had seen others with soulmarks, but they were purple, from a parent kissing their child goodbye. Green, from friends hugging. But never red, that was only ever seen on older people and married couples. Because red meant love, Red was permanent.
He dug his nails into his palms.
Soulmates were real. Everyone knew that. The glow didn’t lie.
Why did it have to be him?
Shawn has a girlfriend. Why couldn’t it have been her?
Anyone but Cory.
Shawn dropped his head back against the bed frame and shut his eyes, hard. He wanted to stop thinking. He wanted to rewind time, crack the day open, and rip that second out like it had never happened. But his shoulder still felt warm. His chest still ached.
He remembered Cory's face. Not shocked, not disgusted—just sad. And soft. And maybe a little hopeful.
That made it worse.
Because the worst part wasn't the glow.
The worst part was how part of him—deep down, buried under the panic, wanted it to happen again.
Shawn let out a harsh breath and stood abruptly. He yanked off the sweatshirt, threw it across the room like it was the problem, and caught his reflection in the mirror above the dresser.
He still had the splotch on his shoulder, buzzing.
He could remember how cory touched him. He could still feel it.
“You’re not broken.” Cory had said.
But he was. He had to be.
Shawn sat back into his bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence in the room was loud, the kind that makes your thoughts hard to ignore.
He was trying not to make this a big deal. Trying so hard.
It was just a stupid glow. Just a weird fluke. Maybe his skin had reacted to something. Maybe Cory had brushed up and was staticky.
But none of that explained that feeling.
The second it happened, everything inside him stilled, like for the first time in his life he wasn’t drowning. Chosen.
And that was the problem.
He dug his fingers into his hair and pulled hard—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground himself. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Please don’t be real.” He whispered, voice cracking.
But it was.
It was real.
Cory had touched him, and they had glowed red, and that meant something permanent. Something terrifying. Something that could ruin everything.
He sniffled and bit the inside of his cheek, hard, trying to stop the sting in his eyes, but it was too late. A single tear slid down his cheek, then another, and another. No sobs, no noise—just silent, miserable crying, his face buried in his hands.
He didn’t want to feel this way about Cory. Not when Cory still looked at Topanga like she hung the moon. Not when Cory could laugh and be normal even after they touched and glowed.
Red.
Shawn didn’t know if he wanted to run away or beg for it to happen again.
So, he stayed right there on the floor, tears soaking as they dripped onto his pants, the ache in his chest spreading like a wildfire
“I’m not like... that—Cory's not.”
-
Shawn was standing by his locker, hoodie up, clearly meant to be a shield. He was flipping through a book he definitely wasn't reading, pretending cory didn't exist.
Cory swallowed, adjusting the strap of his backpack. He felt the nervous flutter in his chest. His hand still remembered yesterday—the glow, the color, the way it had pulsed through his fingers like magic and lightning.
He stepped closer.
“Hey Shawn.”
Nothing.
Shawn didn't flinch, didn't lift his eyes, didn't even acknowledge him. Just kept flipping the pages of the same book, eyes glazed over like he wasn’t actually seeing them.
Cory tried again.
“I—I thought maybe we could talk? About...” He lowered his voice. “About yesterday.”
Nothing, again.
Cory shifted awkwardly. “You’re really gonna pretend I'm not here?”
Finally, Shawn snapped his locker shut with a little too much force, shoved his book in his bag, and muttered. “Not now, Cory.”
His voice was low, tight, strained.
“Shawn, come on—”
“I said not now.” Shawn hissed, eyes still not meeting Cory's.
He turned and walked away without waiting for a response, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something to fall on him.
Cory stood there for a second, stunned. People moved past him in the hallway, voices loud and oblivious, lockers slamming shut. But all he could focus on was the space Shawn had just been.
He felt his hand tingle. Stupid red.
His heart thudded in his chest, slow and heavy. It wasn’t like Shawn to shut him out. Not like this, not completely. Not without even looking at him.
It felt like a door had slammed shut—and Cory hadn’t even realized there was a door to begin with.
He turned back to Shawn’s locker, opened it, stared blankly at the inside. A few wrinkled papers, a notebook, a pen that definitely didn’t work. None of that mattered
His hand still tickled, it twitched with the memory—how soft Shawn’s sweatshirt had been, how casual the moment was, how fast everything changed.
He looked down at his red splashed hand, he knew what red meant, he wasn't stupid.
Why did it have to be Shawn? He never expected it to be him.
And maybe he hadn’t expected how okay he would be with it. How right it felt.
Cory closed the locker and went to English. Shawn wasn't there.
Every time Cory got close, Shawn found a way to move away. Different hall, different table at lunch, vanished the second the bell rang. No eye contact. Not a word.
By the end of the day cory felt like he was unraveling.
-
Topanga was sitting at a corner table in the library surrounded by books and highlighters, and a half-drunken smoothie beside her. She looked up when Cory slid into the seat across from her, eyes flickering over his face immediately.
“You look weird.”
Cory blinked. “Wow, thanks.”
Topanga tilted her head. “No, I mean... your face is fine. You just look like someone kicked your puppy and took all your money.”
Cory didn’t laugh. He just fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, eyes darting around like the books might be listening in.
Topanga's brow furrowed. “Okay, what's going on?”
He hesitated. Really hesitated.
She waited.
Finally, Cory leaned forward, dropped his voice, and said. “I think... I think Shawn might be my soulmate.”
Topanga blinked “Oh.”
“Oh?” Cory repeated, like the word had punched him.
She put her highlighter down carefully. “Cory. Thats not... bad.”
“I know it’s not bad!” He hissed in a whisper, glancing around. “It’s just—look,” he held his red hand out to her “We touched. Yesterday. I pushed him—joking—and we glowed. Red, Topanga.”
Her eyes widened slightly. Red. The color of romantic soulmates.
“Oh.” She said again, but this time it was different. He could see her brain shifting into high gear “oh, Cory...” she held his wrist softly.
Cory looked away. “I thought I'd be paired up with you or something.” He whispered, “Not my best friend.”
Topanga said nothing for a bit.
Cory rubbed his face. “And the worst part is... I didn’t hate it. I didn’t freak out. Not right away. It felt... it felt good, okay? Like really good. And I'm terrified because—because Shawn’s avoiding me like the plague, and I think I ruined everything.”
Topanga was quiet.
Then gently: “Cory, you didn't ruin anything. This is big. It's confusing.”
Cory looked down at the table. “He won’t even look at me.”
“Because he’s scared,” Topanga said “He’s been close to you for as long as I can remember. I’m sure he's hesitant to address it, especially since he doesn't know if you’re into him.”
Cory swallowed hard. “So what do I do?”
Topanga smiled a little “Just be patient with him.”
He nodded slowly. But his stomach still felt like it was tied in a dozen knots.
Topanga moved her hand so that it was on top of Cory's.
“You don’t have to be alone in this Cory,” she said, and her voice had that soft steel to it, the kind she only used when she was completely and undeniably serious. “We’ll get this figured out, okay?”
Cory blinked, throat tightening. “Even if this means I'm... not your soulmate?”
Topanga smiled, small but real. “Cory, if red glowed when you touched Shawn... that's not something I’d ignore. And I think—deep down, we both knew this would happen.”
Cory felt a pang in his chest, but gentler. “You’re not mad?”
She shook her head. “Sad, maybe. But not mad. Not when I know how much you love him.”
Cory looked away, he felt his stained hand burn and pulled back. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t talk to me. He won’t even look at me.”
Topanga sat back, thoughtful “Then maybe he needs someone who isn’t you right now.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, standing and collecting her books, “I’m going to find him. I’ll talk to him. Not to pressure him—just to let him know that he can talk to me.”
Cory stood, quickly. “Topanga wait—what if he doesn’t want me?”
She paused. “Then he doesn’t. And that’ll hurt, Cory. But you’ll survive it. And if there's even the smallest chance that he does...”
She met his eyes “Then you owe it to both of you to try.”
Cory nodded, slowly. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Thank you.”
As she walked out of the library Cory sat back down.
Now all he could do is wait.
-
Shawn was sitting on some back steps behind the school. hunched over his knees, hood up, a pencil twirling between his fingers like a nervous tick. He looked like his world had just collapsed.
Topanga spotted him from a distance. She hesitated, then walked up slowly, quietly, sitting beside him on the steps without a word.
A few seconds passed.
“I don’t want to talk.” Shawn mumbled; eyes fixed on the cracks in the pavement.
“Good,” Topanga said. “I’m not asking you to.”
He narrowed his eyes but didn’t turn to her.
The pencil spun faster.
They sat like that for another minute. Wind rustled the trees. A bird chirped. Somewhere distant, a car alarm wailed and then cut off.
Then finally—
“Cory’s worried about you.”
Shawn flinched. “Not my problem.”
Topanga turned her head. “It kind of is.”
He scoffed “Let me guess—he sent you out here to fix me?”
“No one can fix you, Shawn,” she said, calm. “But he thought maybe you’d let me in”
Silence again. The pencil snapped between his fingers.
Topanga softened. “He didn’t expect it. The soulmate thing. But when it happened... he didn’t say he was scared.”
Shawn’s voice was low and bitter. “Yeah, well. He should’ve.”
Topanga watched him for a beat, choosing her next words carefully.
“You push people away before they can leave you, Cory won't leave you.”
That hit too close.
Shawn’s head whipped toward her, eyes blazing “You don’t know me.”
Her voice stayed even and quiet, “I know you’ve been looking for someone to choose you your whole life. And now that the universe literally glowed to say it’s him, you’re running from it like its fire.”
His jaw clenched. “Stop.”
“Why? Because I'm right?”
“I said STOP!” Shawn snapped, standing abruptly. His eyes were shiny now, furious and scared all at once. “You don’t get it, you have people. You belong. I’ve got a trailer, and a backpack, and a million reasons Cory deserves someone better.”
Topanga stood slowly too. Her face softened with understanding, but she didn’t press any further.
“I get it.” she said. “More than you think. But if you won't hear it from me then...”
She sighed and looked at the concrete. “I'll get out of your hair.”
She walked off, leaving Shawn standing alone with his heart pounding, his hands shaking, and the terrifying possibility that cory might not be mad at him. Even after he pushed him away.
Topanga sat cross-legged on Angela’s floor, nervously sipping from a bottle of iced tea she hadn’t touched in five minutes. Angela laid on her stomach across the bed, flipping pages in a poetry anthology half-heartedly.
When Topanga didn’t speak right away Angela looked up.
“Okay, you’re fidgeting like someone who accidentally joined a cult. What’s going on?”
Topanga exhaled. “It’s about Shawn.”
Angela sat up straighter. “What about him?”
Topanga hesitated, then decided the truth was better than dancing around it.
“He and Cory touched yesterday. Just a shove. But it—” she swallowed. “It triggered a glow. Red.”
Angela’s eyes widened slightly.
And then—almost shockingly—her mouth pulled into a sad, knowing smile.
“Huh,” she said. “So it finally happened.”
Topanga blinked. “You... knew?”
Angela let out a soft laugh and fell back onto the bed. “I didn’t know know. But I've seen the way he looks at Cory when he doesn’t think anyone's watching. He’s been fighting something for a long time.”
Topanga looked down. “He’s freaking out. He won’t talk to Cory. He snapped at me today when I tried.”
Angela rolled onto her side, face thoughtful. “That sounds like Shawn.”
There was a pause.
Then Angela added, softly, “He’s always been terrified of being loved too much. Especially by someone like Cory.”
Topanga nodded slowly. “I thought maybe... you’d be upset.”
Angela shrugged. “I mean, sure. It hurts to know your boyfriend isn't your soulmate. But I kind of figured that out early on. I think part of me always knew I was more of a safe place than a soulmate. He needed that. I needed that. It doesn't mean we’re supposed to be forever.
She smiled again—gentler now, warm.
“But maybe Cory is.”
Topanga felt tears sting her eyes. “He’s really scared.”
Angela stood up and grabbed her jacket. “Then I'll go find him.”
Topanga sat up. “You’ll talk to him?”
Angela nodded. “Someone’s gotta remind that boy he’s allowed to be loved. Might as well be me.”
-
Shawn sat alone on the swings, hood pulled up over his head, kicking at the mulch beneath his feet. His eyes were red, but not just from the cold.
Angela found him there, like she always somehow could.
She didn’t say anything right away—just sat down on the swing next to his.
A few seconds passed.
Then: “You gonna yell at me too?”
Shawns voice was sharp, defensive. But it shook just enough to give him away.
Angela tilted her head. “Depends. You still planning on being a jerk?”
He let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve been a sob. He didn't respond.
After a while, she said softly “Topanga told me.”
Shawn winced. “Course she did.”
“She told me it was red,” Angela continued, voice calm. “That it was cory.”
His fingers clenched around the chains of the swing. He didn’t look at her.
Angela waited.
“You mad?” he asked eventually, voice cracking.
“No,” she said. “Not mad.”
He turned to look at her, finally—eyes red rimmed, face raw.
“Why not?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? Or calling me a freak? Or a coward? Because that's what I am, Angela. I saw it—I saw the light—and all I could think about was how fast I could run away.”
Angela stood and moved in front of him, crouching down so she could meet his eyes.
“You’re scared.” she said simply. “And you’re allowed to be.”
Shawns lip trembled. “What if it’s not real?”
Angela gave a small, sad smile. “What if it is?”
He blinked hard. The tears slipped through anyway.
“I’m not supposed to feel like this,” he whispered. “Not about him. Not about anyone.”
Angela reached up and took one of his hands. “Shawn. You’ve been told your whole life that love is conditional. That it leaves. That it breaks you. But that’s not entirely true. Love is unconditional.
He shook his head. “He deserves better. I’m a mess, Angela. You know I am.”
“I do,” she said. “But I also know you. And I know when you care about someone, you’d burn the world down to keep them safe.”
He squeezed his eyes shut—and the sobs broke free.
“I don’t know how to do this.” He choked out.
She squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to know. You just have to stop running from what you want.”
Shawn wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, but it didn’t do much. His face was blotchy, tear streaked and tired. He looked like a boy trying to outrun a tidal wave.
Angela stayed quiet beside him, giving him the space to breathe. Let it come in waves.
Voice ragged, Shawn spoke. “When I saw the red, I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. I needed it to not be real.”
Angela nodded “Because if its real you can lose it.”
Shawn’s jaw clenched. He looked out at the fading light, sky turning a dusky purple. “And I will. I always do.”
“No, you have,” Angela corrected gently “But... you should know Cory won't leave.”
He let out a shaky breath. “It’s not just that. It’s—what does it mean? About me? About... what I've always felt?”
Angela sighed. “Shawn, do you really think who you love could change who you are?”
He hesitated and Angela started.
“Because the person who made me feel safe enough to cry in front of them, who’d fight the world if it looked at me wrong, who sees everything in people they can't see in themselves... is you, Shawn.”
He looked down at his hands and felt his shoulder burn—or tickle?
“I used to think maybe we could pursue something serious.” Angela looked at her shoes. “But the truth is, I think I was always just loving the part of you that already belonged to him.”
Shawns breath caught. He didn’t know what to say.
So, she continued, even softer now.
“It's okay to be afraid. But don’t let that fear be louder than what you feel.”
Shawn was quiet for a long time. When he spoke, his voice cracked around the words.
“I think I've loved him since I was nine.”
Angela nodded, her eyes shining. “I think he has too, maybe longer.”
Shawn looked at her, overwhelmed. “What do I do?”
Angela squeezed his hand again.
“Start by not running.”
He nodded, just once. It wasn’t much.
But it was something.
-
The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on Cory's desk that he hadn’t bothered to turn off. He was lying awake, staring at his ceiling, blanket kicked halfway off.
The window creaked.
Cory sat up fast—eyes wide, heart racing—just in time to see Shawn climbing through, hood pushed back, hair a little windblown, face pale in the moonlight.
“Hey.” Shawn whispered, like his voice might break the quiet.
Cory blinked “Hey.”
They just looked at each other for a bit.
Then Cory swung his legs out of bed. “You okay?”
Shawn didn’t answer right away. He dropped onto the edge of Cory’s bed like his knees were giving out. His hands were shaking.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t pretend it didn’t mean anything. Not when it meant everything.”
Cory’s breath hitched.
Shawn swallowed, eyes locked on the floor. “I’ve been trying so hard to be normal. To want the right things. Say the right things. But you—” His voice cracked. “You’ve always been the thing I want most. And that scares me more than anything ever has.”
Cory sat closer to him.
“You think I'm not scared too?” he whispered.
Shawn turned toward him, eyes glassy, voice shaking. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it to be you.”
Cory flinched—but stayed.
“But it is,” Shawn breathed. “And it’s not going away. And I don’t know who I am if I let myself love you like this.”
There were tears falling now. Shawn didn’t bother hiding them.
Cory reached out, gently, hand resting on Shawn’s knee.
“I don’t know who I am without you.” Cory said. “I half think I maybe never did.”
Shawn let out a breathless laugh that was more of a sob. “So, what do we do?”
Cory leaned in, forehead almost resting against Shawn’s. “We stop pretending.”
Shawn didn’t move away. Neither did Cory.
And when they leaned into each other—just a tight, desperate hug, their cheeks pressed together—it happened.
A slow, steady warmth bloomed between them. A soft red light, not bright like before, but deep and quiet, like embers under skin.
Matching soulmarks began to form on their cheeks, right where their faces met. Swirls of red, delicate and warm, like the universe was sighing in relief.
Neither of them pulled away.
Shawn let out a broken sound. “Cory...”
“I know.” Cory whispered.
Shawn pulled back just enough to make eye contact with Cory.
Their lips met carefully, a soft brush that sent warmth through the both of them, soulmarks sparking.
Shawn laid down onto the bed, Cory's bed creaked as he joined him.
Cory was curled slightly on his side, head propped up on one hand, watching him.
“It’s weird.” Shawn murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
“What is?”
“That everything still feels the same. But not.”
Cory smiled faintly. “Yeah. It’s like we were always here. Just... waiting for the rest of us to catch up.”
Shawn turned his head, eyes catching the fainted glint of the soulmark on Cory’s cheek. It hadn’t faded. If anything, it glowed softer now, steadier.
“Does it scare you?” Shawn asked.
Cory didn’t lie. “Yeah. But not as much as not having you.”
Shawn blinked hard. His throat felt tight in that way that only happened when he really let himself feel safe.
Shawn leaned in until their foreheads almost touched again.
“Promise me something?” he asked.
“Anything.”
Shawn hesitated. Then, “Don’t stop touching me. I don’t care if it glows or doesn’t. I just—I need it.”
Cory reached out and gently held Shawns hand. Red light bloomed, faint and lovely.
“I wasn’t planning on letting go.” He said.
Shawn let out a shaky little breath, and Cory pulled him close, arms winding around him like a blanket, like home.
They didn’t talk after that.
They just lay there, tangled together in the dark, soulmarks forming everywhere they touched, glowing slightly red, heartbeat by heartbeat, in sync.
And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt alone.