Archive of Our Own

Collie Parker’s mom always tried to change his idea of soulmates, but it felt like there was a curse in the Parker family genes.

It started when Collie’s father died, sick and surrounded by hospital wires, and grew deeper from there. A horrible dark pit that felt like it was in the center of his chest, where a heart should be, trapped by a cracked ribcage. A pathetic excuse for a heart that was supposed to be the other half of somebody else. It wasn’t supposed to already be broken. But listening to the way his mother wept every night, and then having to see the same anguish in her tragic stare every day after, only made Collie never want to find them. What if that hole grew vastly? What if it turned into an endless void that turned everything it touched into darkness?

What if he fucking lost his soulmate too?

Collie locked his knees together on his bed one night, and wrote hi on his wrist with a black sharpie. He stared at his bronze skin for hours, the last sparks of hope dying in his emptying chest when his soulmate didn’t reply. It was the easiest way for soulmates to communicate, how most of them found each other, and they surely saw it at some point. But as the stain of the marker grew fainter with each passing day, each time he washed his hands or showered, so did Collie’s desire to break the Parker curse. He didn’t try to reach out again. He’d have to leave it up to one of his three sisters to break the curse because, by the looks of things, it was going to die with him.

Then Collie’s big sister’s prom date stood her up. Then his other sister’s boyfriend dumped her for her best friend. His oldest sister split with hers when they aspired to attend colleges across the states.

It wasn’t like any of them were soulmates. A placeholder, as the nation would call it, frowning upon those who dated while they waited for their soulmate to come around. If they ever came around. Or if they were out of reach.

But witnessing the painful curse of being a Parker solidified Collie’s belief.

Collie witnessed the heartbreak form on their faces again and again, helped them dig into ice cream (the cure for any sadness), watched weird romance flicks (that sometimes made the pain worse), and even smiled proudly when his oldest sister’s ache became healed when she finally met her soulmate because he was happy for her. Collie wouldn’t wish the pain their father’s death inflicted on their mother on them, on anyone, really, when it was worse than dying.

It wasn’t rare for loved ones to die after losing their soulmates. The grief was so powerful that the strings of the heart were tugged, snapping them completely, and just causing the bleeding organ to fail them. Collie read in an article that some were found cold with a frozen smile on their face. He pondered over how it was the last joy they felt, knowing they may see their soulmate again, in the next life. He then quickly shoved that thought out of his head and erased the article from his internet history.

The topic of soulmates became sensitive for Collie throughout the years. His sisters and friends poked and teased before backing off when he got moody. His mother would frown and rub his arm when she saw finger-shaped bruises, asking if they hurt, and he mutely shook his head. They weren’t his, and usually when he got in fights, he walked away unscathed.

“Do you ever wonder if they’re alright?” She whispered. I hope they’re okay, was simply left unsaid in the wake of her son’s silence.

It was a fair question. It wasn’t like the whisper of a dirty word, abuse, never crossed Collie’s mind. While his heart naturally skipped a beat at the thought, he mashed his lips together. It may be destiny that they ended up in each other’s lives, but that didn’t mean he had to waste time finding them. He tried to ignore the sting in his chest in the place his heart was supposed to be every time he drew fingers over the welts on his thighs or marks on his arms. The hi was long gone by now, but he wondered if there would ever be another word not written by him, one that he could ignore this time.

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Collie asked. He wasn’t stupid. His mom knew that. He avoided meeting her eyes. “Maybe just a few fights at school.”

“Maybe we can help them if you find them sooner,” his sister piped up from the kitchen. She was still nursing a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Collie always hated the flavor. He thought it tasted like letting her cry on his shoulder when she caught her best friend kissing her boyfriend by their lockers.

Collie could fight fate. He’d look at her with his eyebrows knitted together, insisting coldly, “Destiny is bullshit,” and ignored the heartache deepening in his mother’s eyes. Not because she lost her soulmate, this time.

Because Collie refused to seek his.

ღ 01.

It was a wonder how for someone who didn’t believe in soulmates, Collie seemed to be drawn toward them from his first day at University. He’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t fascinated by them despite actively minding his own damn business when it came to his own. Collie’s assigned roommate was Pete McVries, a dark-skinned guy with a warm smile that made the scar cut through his face twitch, and he was holding a well-loved guitar in one hand while he kindly shook Collie’s with the other. He met Pete’s soulmate a few hours later. Ray Garraty, whose soft looks almost didn’t seem to match the jagged scar that mirrored Pete’s, until he first heard Ray curse out their egotistical sociology professor. These soulmates were alright in Collie’s book, attached at the hip, and so, so happy.

Then they met their soulmate after a few weeks of lessons, and Collie was introduced to him as well. While rare, lots of people had more than one soulmate. Theirs happened to be an oddball named Billy, who also had Pete’s original scar, had deadpanned a “Stebbins,” the first time Ray called him that, a possessive and bulky arm draped over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Whether or not Stebbins and McVries wrestled out their jealousy issues over Ray, Collie didn’t ask; he minded his own business.

And plugged in his headphones with the music on full blast on nights they were both spending the night, for that matter.

Good for them.

While Stebbins ignored others like the plague, his partners start collecting friends like they’re damn Pokémon, Collie thinks. Starts with Pete’s classmate from Literature, Richie, a journalist with black frames that make his brown eyes impossibly bigger. Richie brought over his artistic friend, Clementine, a tall girl with ruby ringlets, for a study date one day when her soulmate, Hank Olson, crashed the session, his best friend Art Baker in tow. A short guy and another tall one, who Collie would’ve mistaken for soulmates if he bothered to ask. They took to them like a moth to a flame.

Just… Not Richie’s roommate. Barkovitch.

A short-tempered male with naturally hysterical blue eyes that darted back and forth across the group of friends, having gotten together for lunch, unaware that Richie had dragged in another body to present like a homeless mutt he found wandering the roads. Collie didn’t think he was exaggerating with that comparison. He came off as distraught as one ‒ glaring at them like they had backed him into a corner, sharp teeth bared, and frizzy blond hair standing straight up in wretched fear. Collie’s dark eyes were narrowed, features tightened in his usual unreadable expression as he took in the stray curiously. Reading him like an open book. Like he already knew him.

Oh, Gary really didn’t like that.

The noon started off easy enough, even if everyone could sense the tension Gary brought to the table, and only the tension. Not even an actual meal. Richie skipped to the table with Gary’s hand in his, the top of his cropped hair barely reaching Gary’s shoulders, given their height difference, and a beaming smile on his freckled face. “Hey guys! I thought I’d bring my friend along, this is Gary,” he introduced.

“Roommate,” Gary corrected stiffly. His shoulders bunched up tensely as his eyes fell to study his tattered boots, the laces barely woven together.

Collie frowned as Richie’s light dimmed. The writer adjusted his glasses and nodded along. “Right. Yeah. Roommate,” he agreed. Collie bit back a scoff, but he mastered the art of silence a long time ago.

They took turns introducing themselves. Gary hardly says much to each of them. His nose is twitching in discomfort as Richie guides him to sit on the bench. He kept him close like there was a leash around his neck, as if he’d run off at any opportunity. It’s when Art commented, “We didn’t think we’d ever get to meet you. Rich says you’re a bit of a hermit, I guess like a stray out in the cold,” with a small laugh that sounds like windchimes, his accent smooth.

Gary’s nose stopped its twitching to scrunch and curl his lower lip. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped.

Collie kept his face clear of any emotion, even when he felt a pulse of rage. “Dude,” he began flatly, “Calm down. He’s just messing with you.”

Collie has always been protective of his friends. Of others in general, really. He didn’t like seeing people built like him or Stebbins going after kids much smaller than them, since they were easy prey for a bully. Which wasn’t what Art was even trying to do. He was equally protective, but harmless. They all poke fun jabs at each other. And calling someone a hermit ‒ which was true, given this guy was so pale he probably didn’t see the sun much ‒ didn’t deserve a bite from a nasty mutt.

“I wasn’t even fucking talkin’ to you,” Gary barked at him.

Art’s face softened with a confused frown. “I really was just jokin’‒”

His best friend, Olson, huffed and cut him off. “Cool your jets, you fucking tweaker.” He rolled his eyes in Richie’s direction. “Really can see why this motherfucker needs friends.”

That did it. Gary was wearing a hoodie that he trembled in, but he still raked his fingers across the cotton sleeve as he rounded on Hank, rabid. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know anything about me! I’m not a fucking tweaker, you God damn faggot!” He shouted, and no one saw it coming, the way he rose and shoved Hank’s frame, sending him in a sprawling mess onto the ground.

Hell broke loose from there. Most of them were yelling, Richie scrambling to whisper hurriedly at Gary, Clementine checking on her soulmate with fire in her eyes, Pete trying to mediate them with calm words ‒ and Collie shot up, fuming. Stebbins beat him to it. The muscular blond’s jaw was locked as he grabbed Gary by the arm. His knuckles turned pale, pulled taut over the skin. His fingertips clutching the limb made the other wince and recoil like he was expecting a punch, but if Stebbins noticed, he didn’t care. “Get the fuck out of here, Mutt,” he spat. The word mutt sounded derogatory, dripping with venom.

Collie’s combat boots felt like they were made of concrete as he stormed over and snatched Gary’s crossbody bag, littered with various patches like FUCK THE GOVERNMENT, LOVE TRUMPS HATE, and ICE OUT that he’d usually compliment on. Instead, Collie shoved it into his chest, as Stebbins finally let him go. Gary went stumbling backwards, cradling his bag to his chest. He spared them a single glance. He walked off like a dog licking his wounds, tail tucked between his legs.

Whoever Gary’s soulmate was, Collie almost felt sorry for them, having to deal with their partner picking fights left and right.

“Guys,” Richie sighed in disappointment as soon as the air was peaceful again, Gary out of sight.

Hank had settled himself in his seat again, grumbling as he brushed grass and soil off his shirt. “I didn’t do anything, Harkness!” He exclaimed.

“I told you he doesn’t like being ribbed on! He’s had a hard time since moving up here, he‒”

“That doesn’t just excuse him calling Hank a ‒ a, you know,” Art defended with a wave of his hand.

Richie pushed his glasses up with his finger. “No, of course not. I’ve never heard him use a slur like that before. He knows I’m gay, he’s seen my Pride flag, and‒” he paused. And then shook his head, as if changing his mind, realizing whatever words came out next had to be said carefully. “It’s taken weeks ‒ weeks ‒ to get me to convince him to come to lunch with us. He just doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Shocking,” Stebbins deadpanned. Ray drove his elbow into his ribs gently.

“Real nice,” Collie scoffed. He pulled his onyx hair back so he could shrug off his jacket as the heat of adrenaline started to die down, and he realized he was warm being draped underneath it.

“Whoa, what’s that, Parker? You’ve been gettin’ into fights, too?” Pete wondered out loud. He gestured to his bicep.

“What? No.” Collie hasn’t gotten in a fight since he was home. Hasn’t had a reason to (yet). He turned his head to follow Pete’s wave that had everyone’s eyes on him now. Four, fresh marks, a deep red stained his smooth skin. “Oh. It must be‒”

A soft hand reached over to pat him reassuringly. “Your soulmate!” Clementine finished happily. Hank looked at her with love sparkling in his eyes. “Oh, Hank and I barely ever got marks on us ‒ but I was always doodling on my arm, painting my hand… He loved it. I still do for him.” Clementine smiled and laced her arm over his shoulders, leaning down to stamp a kiss on his pink cheek. A smear of her lipstick was left over, and a second later, Collie saw the same mark appear on her freckled face.

Stebbins pretended to gag. Pete swatted his head. “Boy, I don’t know what you’re gaggin’ for with my scar on your pretty face.” And Stebbins flipped him off for that.

“What does your soulmate do for you, Collie?” Clementine went on.

Collie’s earlier sandwich felt like cement in the pit of his stomach. “Get in fights. I got more bruises and scratches that aren’t even mine,” he scoffed. As if to prove his point, he lifted his arm, showcasing multiple fresh red scratches drawn across the surface that weren’t there before either.

The sight made Richie frown. “That looks painful. Are you sure they’re okay?” He asked slowly.

The wax paper Collie used to wrap his sandwich in was rolled into a ball as if to give his hands something to do. He hated how he was surrounded by mostly partnered people expecting answers that he couldn’t, and didn’t want to provide. Didn’t even want to think about it because then it felt real.

So Collie shrugged. “We’ve never talked,” he admitted.

“You and your soulmate doin’ it the romantic way?” Art wondered. His smile was so bright it was blinding. Stories of people meeting their soulmates by writing notes to each other on their arms were common, sure, but others often found it romantic to wait until the universe pulled them together. Art seemed to be a fan of the creative way.

The contents in Collie’s stomach swirled, and he started shoving things into his pack. Just hearing the word soulmate so many times had his skin itching. “I have to go,” he announced. He grabbed his jacket and threw his bag over it.

Ray started, “Collie‒” In concern, but he turned on his heel before they could dig into the hole further.

All Collie could see flashing in his mind were memories of his mom clutching her soulmate’s hand, begging him not to go, whispering when she thought their children couldn’t hear that she wouldn’t be able to go on without him. To spend your entire life seeing similar marks from your soulmate and then losing the ability when they pass away… Collie couldn’t imagine that type of pain. He was only a witness to it. And he was determined to never experience it. Another Parker wouldn’t survive it.

He wasn’t fucking soulmate material either. Collie had a few girlfriends and boyfriends here and there back at home, placeholders, but genuine relationships. He really liked them. He did. He told them he wasn’t looking for his soulmate, and usually, that’s where the relationship ended, because Collie was as much of a placeholder to them. None of them was his true soulmate, but they still could sense the dim cavity inside of him. So maybe being on his own was the final answer of destiny. Fate was never meant to tie Collie with somebody else; the cosmos interlaced a soul made for his, and he didn’t want it when pain was part of the package deal.

Collie’s fast pace came to a slow stop at the same time as his pondering. A body was curled into itself against the brick wall of a bus stop bench, their knees being enveloped by their arms to press into their chest. At first, Collie assumed somebody was fighting a hangover, but upon closer inspection through the plastic frame, he noticed the familiar knotted blond hair.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” a dejected voice sobbed, muffled. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

It’s Barkovitch. He’s holding himself like a child as his figure shook, using the free hand he had to slap himself, hard, after each word. Each hit made Collie’s shoulders jerk with a wince.

He just doesn’t make friends easily, he suddenly heard Richie’s voice in the back of his mind. It made his skull rattle. He bit his lip. Collie made seven friends without even trying. He had a group, and Gary had Richie, but from a safe distance.

And Collie recognized the fear of getting hurt like the marks on the back of his hand.

His heavy feet clomped toward Gary hesitantly. Collie felt like he was approaching a terrified stray, especially when Gary’s head snapped up, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose from sniffling too hard. Not a mutt, like Stebbins called him. Like he was when he bit. No. A poor dog that had been kicked in the ribs one too many times to be able to tell the difference between a hand offering help and a hand coming down to strike.

“Are you okay?” Collie asked slowly.

Gary’s eyes scanned him. From the top of Collie’s head to the sole of his boots. Then again, and again, and lingered a tad longer on the marks peeking through his tank top, the long scratches on his arm. Then finally, “Fuck off,” Gary spit, wiping the snot and turning his head. He started doing a furious mix of scrubbing at his eyes and hitting himself.

“You won’t get anywhere smacking the shit out of yourself,” Collie warned him, “Or talking shit to the people trying to help you.”

Gary threw his hands in the air. “Okay! Sorry, I’m such a dick‒”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. And you shouldn’t have called Olson a slur that’s not yours,” Collie corrected angrily. “We can all be assholes sometimes, but you took it too far‒”

“I’m gay.”

That caught Collie off guard. He blinked a few times, then said, “What?”

“You said I called him a slur that’s not mine. Faggot is,” Gary replied. He was looking everywhere now but at Collie. The steel bench, the autumn colors painting the trees, and a few students passing by. “I told Richie when I saw his flag. It wasn’t something I could talk about at home. I’m gay,” he repeated slowly.

“That’s…” Collie tried to tread carefully. He knew how hard it was to confess what you thought was broken inside of you, running from it most of your life. Richie told them Gary was from Southern Florida. He put the pieces together easily after that. This was probably the first time he was facing it.

“Don’t believe me? Why would I even fucking lie about it?” Gary huffed. He lifted the flap of his bag, the one with buttons and patches, showing off the most colorful of them all: a little rainbow flag. It was next to a picture of a cute cat. “Rich gave it to me. It was…” Gary stopped to sniffle again. “I stepped a toe out of the closet ‘cause of him. I was in so deep, I was seeing snow with Mr. Tumnus, okay? And I’ve taken enough shit from home, I don’t want it here neither!”

Colle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. When he opened them again, Gary snapped his gaze away, as if he was trying to hide having studied him again. Collie ignored it. “Even if you reclaim it, you hurled it like a middle school bully. Stebbins should’ve made you chew concrete for it.”

“I’m still fucking learnin’. There wasn’t a handbook for this shit,” Gary said coldly. His throat was scratchy. He rubbed his eyes again and, in a smaller voice, apologized with all the genuineness he could muster, “I’m sorry, okay?”

Collie adjusted his jacket to cover himself. He didn’t know if the sight of his skin with his soulmate streaks had been making Gary uncomfortable, but he seemed to stop shaking so much once they were gone. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he echoed his earlier words. Collie cocked his head behind him, in the direction he came from. “Make the right choice.”

It wasn’t Collie’s responsibility to make sure Richie’s vulgar roommate atoned for his behavior. He just knew how much it meant to Richie.

And Barkovitch looked so fucking pathetic crying on a bench when there was an easy way to fix it that it made Collie ache inside, like there was something dug deep in his personal void, so.

“Parker.”

The call of Collie’s surname made him stop in his tracks from where he had turned his back to Gary and left. “Yeah?”

A beat of silence. And then a soft, “Nevermind.”

Okay, then.

ღ 02.

Collie doesn’t stop seeing Barkovitch… Gary, after their first meeting, had turned into a dumpster fire.

Apparently, Richie was successful in putting out the flames once Gary retreated to apologize. Pete filled Collie in on most of the details, Ray throwing in the parts he missed. He even described the blond as funny. “A biting sense of humor, sure, and kinda sick. But he’s got some wicked insults,” Ray gloated with a grin, ever the angry boy at heart. He took a liking to Gary right away once the air was clear.

So it was settled. Gary finally found his group.

And Collie… He didn’t mind it. Gary, that is, and the possibility of being close with him.

He didn’t have the urge to hit him much anymore, so that was a bonus, even though sometimes his behavior still had to be corrected. But anyone could see that Gary was trying. He tried to be subtle about taking his pills with his meals at specific times, and when the gang caught on, they kept their mouths shut until he felt less ashamed about it. Collie even found out he attended therapy once every two weeks. He was curious what Gary talked about ‒ not that he didn’t know how many issues the guy had, that was clear from day one ‒ but what was really under the skin? What words had he been filling in a cup for years to now spill out, overflowing?

Collie spent weeks telling himself it was natural curiosity over a broken boy who didn’t have his head screwed on right. Just being a good friend. He didn’t believe himself either, but that’s fine.

The two would usually run into each other as they left their morning classes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, since they’re in the same hall, with doors next to one another. For Gary, Collie knew it was one of his photography ones. He usually had a cheap camera dangling around his neck, but every time they brushed shoulders after they’re dismissed, he’d see him clutching a fashionably expensive one like he was afraid someone would snatch it, and shatter it into a dozen pieces.

Collie wondered how many times that must’ve happened for him to be that anxious about it.

The cold of late November in Maine was finally starting to settle in, and Collie guessed Gary was feeling it once he caught the other’s eye. He had thrown on a heavier jacket over a thin sweater, a knitted pompom hat tugged over unruly straw hair, and a scarf dangling around his neck, which was currently being scraped with nails.

“Fucking, shit, fucking, God damn it,” Gary was cursing in an irritated mutter.

Collie whirled in on him. Gary yelped as he collided with his chest, even though he had an inch or two on the other. His blue eyes looked like ice as they flickered at him, spluttering, “The fuck, Parker?”

“Stop that.” Collie didn’t answer and batted Gary’s hand away like he’s seen Ray do a hundred times. He grumbled about it, but shifted his scarf higher. “What’s with all the F bombs?”

He could see Gary hesitating. Collie figured out quite a while ago that Gary didn’t open up easily, something he could empathize with. Right when he was about to change the topic, or even offer him an out, Gary blurted with wild eyes, “I have a soulmate project coming up.”

A few students bustling around them heard the outburst, some with fond eyes as they poked their soul marks and chattered with one another. Collie blocked them out like it was just him and Gary in the hall. He scrunched his face, confused. “Okay? You can’t just ask your soulmate to help‒”

“I don’t have a soulmate.” Gary was avoiding eye contact now and his hand twitched at his side as he fought any urge to claw or hit himself in front of Collie. He wrung them together instead while jittering with nerves. “I mean, obviously, I have a soulmate. Everybody does. I get the marks sometimes. So I should too, right?” Gary explained anxiously. He started to babble, “My‒My professor, she gave us a new project, right? Like, about soulmates. We can photograph anythin’ to do with them. Find a happy couple, take pictures of your own ‒ your own ‒ fucking marks, find the beauty wherever, I guess. But I don’t‒” He stopped to breathe in sharply through his nose. “‒I don’t believe in that soulmate stuff.” Collie raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the lie that seemed to roll off his tongue. He didn’t know how he knew Gary was lying; it was just a feeling that shot through him. “It’s a bunch of fucking bullshit, and I’m going to get an F, I’m going to flunk, my Meemaw will kick my ass, then I’ll be in a cardboard box‒”

“Jesus, Barkovitch,” Collie sighed, effectively cutting Gary off. He had to say, he was surprised that he would lie about believing in soulmates even when he clearly had one. Not a lot of people were like Collie, but he’s heard of them before. Some people didn’t believe in divine intervention. They ignored their marks and fell for someone else. It wasn’t unheard of ‒ just surprising. “Slow down and catch your breath. You take really great pictures. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

Although Gary was lying earlier, Collie wasn’t. He really did take amazing pictures. He’s only been lucky enough to see a few since Gary was reluctant to share with their friends, the process of blooming slowly but still active, but the ones he’s seen, he’s been speechless. Collie’s culture has always surrounded him with art and color, and he could easily see the beauty in Gary’s own. The candids were always his favorite; it always felt like the picture was staring back. Collie tried to stay careful when touching them as if he feared a fingerprint smudge would stain them. Ray has a beautiful group photo framed in his space that he admired every time he visited, knowing without words that Gary gifted it to him.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Gary mumbled. He raised one of his hands to start chewing at his already sharp nails.

Collie didn’t interfere. He figured this was better than causing himself harm. Before it could get to that point, he suggested, “Ask Ray, Pete, or Billy. They’ve got a pretty unique soulmate case going on there.” Collie could already picture the candid close-ups of their eyes, with the whirl of a scar. The way Gary could capture the beautiful mix of blue and green in Billy’s, the hues of an early dawn in Ray’s brown ones, and the dusk of Pete’s, so dark they were almost coal. There’s no way Gary would fail with those.

But he didn’t seem to be listening much. Gary’s gaze fell downward, and he tilted his head for a better view. Collie wasn’t short by any means, his mouth was close to Gary’s chin, but his neck was further out of sight. “Where’d you get those scratches?” He asked, voice a wobble.

“Hm?” Collie reached to touch his neck subconsciously. “Oh. I get them sometimes. I didn’t notice any this morning, it probably happened in class,” he said with a shrug. “I think my soulmate has a bitchy cat or something. I get them a lot, see?” Collie rolled up his sleeve to demonstrate his truth, flashing a few more gashes and the burn on his wrist from hot coffee.

That injury definitely intrigued Gary the most, who took hold of his hand and turned it for a better view. Collie stifled a gasp. Gary always swatted their friends away from hugs, much less letting anyone touch him, barking that he hated physical contact. And here he was, cold fingers tenderly stroking his thumb over the burn mark. Willingly.

“Where’d you get this?” Gary questioned. If he was trying to seem nonchalant, it wasn’t working.

Collie cocked an eyebrow curiously. “Coffee. The lid wasn’t on right.”

“Oh.” Gary dropped his arm, his voice smaller, and Collie pulled his sleeve down again.

It felt like something was left unsaid. Collie could sense it in the silence. It was so thick he wanted to reach out and pluck out the particle to figure out what was trapped inside of Gary, securely stuck in his throat. Collie wanted to hit his back till he spat it out like food clogged in the throat. People should always say what they feel before it’s too late. He learned that early in life.

“Gary, what’s‒”

“Can I take pictures of you?”

They speak at the same time, but Gary finished, not Collie. The darker-haired one froze, astonishment parting his lips. “What?”

It takes Gary another minute to gather himself, but Collie is patient. He fidgets with the camera around his neck, goes to scratch before stopping himself, blinking rapidly. It was like he was shocked he said it at all. Like if he didn’t say it in that very moment, in the emptying hall, he’d never do so. “Pictures. For my project. I want to take pictures of your soul marks,” Gary finally forces out.

“Why me?” Collie questioned. He tucked the hair that had fallen loose from his ponytail behind his ear. “The guys probably would be a better choice. I don’t even… I mean, I haven’t met my soulmate. I don’t even want to.” He must have forgotten how soulmates were a sensitive topic for him. He was openly poking at the wound now to feed his own interest, the mystery of Gary Barkovitch.

Something like hurt flashed in Gary’s impossibly wide eyes, but he must be good at masking, because it was gone just as fast. The void inside of Collie suddenly felt rotten, but before he could poke at someone else’s wound, Gary spoke again. “I don’t care about that. You don’t have to. I just… I just‒” He hit himself, once, before Collie could stop him, and he winced. “‒Think it’d be easier. With you.” He pushed the final words out between gritted teeth.

Collie still didn’t know. He bit down on his lower lip, deep in thought. On one hand, he’d be surrendering to the idea that soulmates had to end up together, or the universe would fall apart, which was everything he had been against since he buried his father. On the other, Gary looked desperate. He didn’t usually ask for favors. Scratch that, he never did. He’d rather die, which he looks like he’d rather do right now. And for all the shit Collie talks, he does love helping his friends.

Who could it hurt?

Gary started to repeat himself, “You don’t have to‒”

“Okay.”

ღ 03.

“Can you hold fucking still? You’re making even my ADHD brain want to fucking punch you!”

Collie groaned and threw his head into his pillow. He never pictured himself modeling: he loved moving, going for long runs in the morning to start his day, tapping his foot during especially long lessons. But being in front of the camera lens meant he had to be still. He had to listen to Gary’s instructions, who, in this moment, he really wanted to refer to as Barkovitch again. Old habits die hard.

They had decided to get a few drafted snapshots in Collie’s room while Pete had a lesson, so they had some privacy. Gary was strict on how he wanted him to pose, even brought a mirror for the marks to shine off of. He had a wonderfully creative mind, but a foul mouth. It was beyond Collie how the two mixed. Maybe he should ask Stebbins, who seemed to pick through people’s brains, and know exactly what they were thinking‒

“You’re doin’ it again!” Gary groaned.

Collie’s head snapped up to glare at Gary, who was leaning over the bed, knees close to his ribs. He had to slant himself to get the right angle. “Then stand over me!” He exclaimed. Collie had been splayed on his bare chest for what felt like forty minutes now, or forty years, with how orders were being barked at him.

It would make things easier, and Gary certainly knew this, judging by his tight frown. He wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t that kind of…”

“Gay?” Collie finished. He scoffed. “I thought you were.”

“I am!” Gary stated defensively. His voice rose to a higher pitch, almost like a squeak. “I just‒I didn’t know if‒”

Collie rolled his eyes. He sometimes forgets whether or not he’s come out to people before. Being queer meant he was never going to stop coming out to people, and being bisexual, with a stereotypical “masculine man” look (besides the long locks), people made assumptions. Collie was used to it. “I’ve dated guys before.” One of them found his soulmate, a pretty brunette, and another simply decided he wanted to someday. “It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re not my type. Just don’t step on my spine.” Both guys had blue eyes and fair skin, but that’s besides the point. What can he say? Opposites attract. He looked away before Gary could react.

The bed eventually shifted. Gary’s every movement was careful, calculated, as he surveyed where he could position himself without stepping on Collie’s frame. He settled with his feet planted on either side of Collie’s hips, socked feet digging into the mattress. Gary definitely had a better angle for pictures, but it also meant he had a better view. Scars that weren’t even the boys' were on display.

It wasn’t anything Collie wasn’t used to. The Parkers had gotten multiple Child Protective Services calls when he was a child with claims of abuse, even though neither of his parents had rarely raised their voice to him, let alone their hand. There were whispers in the locker room from other boys when Collie pulled his shirt off to change.

It wasn’t like Collie never worried about his soulmate. He was fortunate enough to not have been a victim of abuse, it was something he’d never be able to sympathize with. But it was obvious his soulmate was, and the thought that someone who had shared different lifetimes with him was suffering, and he was powerless to help. It was horrifying. Collie dreaded the day these awful marks would stop showing up, and he’d be another statistic of someone whose soulmate bond didn’t work in this life, because they died before they had a chance to meet. They did stop one day, but the scratches never did.

Before Collie could dwell too much on that, he heard the snap of Gary taking another picture, and pushed all thoughts of tragedy out of his head to relax his muscles against the bedsheets. A few beats of quiet passed, and then Gary broke it, uttering, “Those look like they hurt.” Like a man who knew well enough.

“Yeah. Probably,” Collie agreed. “I never felt them, though, just saw them.”

Another click. “Did you ever ask them about… You know, it,” Gary asked. It sounded like he stopped to hold his breath after speaking the question into light.

“No.” Collie turned his head and pressed his cheek into his arm. The heavy bun holding his hair out of the way swayed onto his shoulder. “I tried to, you know, say hi once. They never responded.” Gary made a soft hum of acknowledgment. “I thought maybe they just didn’t want to talk to me. That I’d make things worse.” That the dark pit inside of me couldn’t love anybody the way they deserved. That I could love them as much as I wanted, but I would still lose them in the end, just like my dad. “But I could’ve tried harder, I guess,” Collie confessed. The admission felt odd rolling off his tongue. Much like Gary, he kept his thoughts of destiny to himself, even though it was true.

He could’ve pushed. What if he could’ve saved them from years of torture, but didn’t, because he was driven by grief to hate the thought of ever finding his soulmate?

The idea made Collie feel sick. Something heavy sank in his chest. If he hadn’t been convinced his heart was ripped out of his chest when his dad died, he would’ve thought it was his heart.

“Get over it.”

What? “What?” Collie asked and rolled on his side to look up, careful to avoid the feet, wondering if he heard Gary right or not.

“I said,” Gary sneered, “You couldn’t have done anythin’. So get over it.” He lowered his camera, but still held it tightly, peering at Collie. “If they wanted your help, they would’ve reached out. They could’ve done that too, right? ‘Sides, you had your own problems, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s not‒” Collie raked a frustrated hand through his hair that was starting to come undone. He suddenly felt defensive, like he had to protect someone whom he had never even met. “My dad died,” he whispered. Gary mashed his lips together, but didn’t reply. “I was young. And my mom, she ‒ well, she lost her soulmate. And I just… Disappeared into my grief.”

It’s been a long time since Collie allowed himself to cry in the midst of his grief. He loved his dad, he did, but heartbreak was like a gaping wound that never fucking closed. No matter how much time had passed, how many times it had been sewn shut, it never. Fucking. Healed.

“Wow,” Gary deadpanned. “Deep.”

Collie’s face flushed and he swatted Gary’s ankles. “Fuck off, asshole.” Despite the curse, Gary’s jab made him feel better. He felt warm instead of sad, like a spark ignited that had never been there before had lit up the hole inside of him.

Gary’s smirk was a tad mean. “Roll over, your hair’s fallin’ out of its bun. You got a few on your, um, chest I can snap.”

He didn’t think about it too much as he rolled over. Strands of Collie’s hair fell across his pillow as he moved into a comfortable position on his back. “Is this okay?” Collie raised his arms and folded them behind his head dubiously. Becoming Stebbins’ gym partner was paying off as his muscles flexed with the shifting, his torso stretched underneath Gary. His dark eyes lifted when he didn’t receive an answer.

Gary was silent because he was staring intensely. His plush lips had parted into a speechless gape as his sharp stare swept over Collie with a pretty blush dusting his cheeks. The color started to seep under his collar, and for a hazy moment, Collie wondered how far it went, and then wondered why he was thinking so deeply about it. Gary was fixated on studying him, and hell, he didn’t even look to be breathing.

“Barkovitch…”

“I have to tell you something,” Gary swiftly blurted, and then‒

“Hey, Parker, you hungry? I brought‒”

The door swung open, and Pete walked in, a brown paper bag in hand for some fast food join, and stopping suddenly at the sight before him. He blinked once at Collie, then Gary, who’s heads snap towards him in surprise, and then a shit-eating grin spread on his face. “Am I interruptin’ something?”

“Don’t you knock?! Get the fuck out, McVries!” Collie hissed, but it was too late. Gary was already fumbling to get away from Collie, knees trembling, and stumbling off the bed so quickly he nearly face-planted ungracefully. Nothing he ever did was elegant, but still.

Collie sat up and outstretched a hand, uttering, “Gary, wait‒”

“I’m fine. Fuck, I’m fine,” Gary gasped through rapid breaths that sounded like they hurt. He waved Collie’s hand away. “I’m fucking fine, I’ll just ‒ I’ll text you, Parker,” he spluttered, clumsily messing with his camera, and shoving past a still-smirking Pete to book it. Collie only saw a flash of his blond hair before he was gone, still swearing under his breath, and probably beating on himself again.

Collow shot his glare at Pete. His roommate innocently waved the fast-food bag. “Peace offering?” He offered.

“I don’t bardge in when you’re with Ray or Stebbins!” Collie snarled, frustrated. He picked up one of the pillows under his head and pitched it at Pete, who was now holding his stomach in a fit of laughter, dodging it.

“Are ‒ Are you really comparing my soulmates to what you have with Barkovitch?” Pete asked through his cackles, and Collie wanted to hit him, just so the tender feeling that pooled in his gut would fuck off. Pete raised a hand like a white flag. “Listen, it’s a great idea and all, taking, y’know, pictures‒”

Collie fumed, “It wasn’t like that, motherfucker! It was for his project!”

“Whatever, man, just put a shirt on,” Pete laughed.

It wasn’t until the moment was over and behind them, and Collie was picking through whatever greasy mess Pete snagged for him, that he remembered Gary’s words.

I need to tell you something.

ღ 04.

12:52

Don’t fucking ignore me, Barkovitch.

Collie had been staring at the green text message for a while now, frustration boiling in his stomach. He and Gary hadn’t usually gone more than a few hours without shooting one another a text: whether it was some stupid meme, a TikTok, or venting about an asshole they crossed, they found a way to talk.

And fuck, Collie loved it. He looked forward to hearing about whatever scheme Gary was up to at 3 a.m., he liked the old age memes sent his way because his sense of humor was so fucked, and Collie just… He loved picking apart Gary’s mind. He liked getting to know him on a level no one else did, because he just knew he didn’t text any of the other guys like this. Gary didn’t show those levels of tenacity with any of them.

Just Collie. In person or over the phone.

If he would just fucking answer it.

It’s been a few weeks now, and it wouldn’t be long before students started departing to spend the holidays at home. Collie had been waiting for this day since he arrived, and homesickness settled in a minute later. He’d never breathe a word about how he cried into his pillow his first few nights away from home, muffled into the cloth so Pete wouldn’t hear. He missed his mom. His sisters. His cousins. Sioux Falls. The faint smell of his dad’s cigarettes still lingering there even after he was gone, left clinging to his old clothes. Collie’s been missing them for a long time now, and he gets to see all of them for Christmas, and he should be happy. But he’s so damn worried that he’ll be leaving on a bad note with Gary, and then he wonders why he cares, because Barkovitch is just an asshole, or why it matters. Same reason.

All Collie knew was that the abyss inside him was growing deeper and he could barely swallow it now.

Gary quit showing up at regular lunches and study sessions, or even regular group hangouts. One minute, Collie swore he could see the familiar nest of blond hair, and the next, he was booking it, and the fucker was all legs, so he was fast. He left the class he had next to Collie’s three days a week a few minutes earlier so he wouldn’t run into him. When he asked Ray and Richie about it, the two Gary bonded with the most, they gave him a tiny smile and shook their head. They were pretty tight-lipped, and Collie was sort of pissed about it. He swore he was gonna start yelling or swinging if he didn’t get answers soon.

Soon came quickly because the next time Collie saw him, it was at the goodbye holiday party that one of the houses was throwing.

He didn’t want to go at first. This is fucking stupid, were probably the exact words he used when Pete and Art teamed up to jump down his throat about it. Art was insistent, he wanted to see his best friend have fun before leaving for the season. Whether that was pouring a drink down his throat till he felt better, being grabbed by the shoulders until he caved and danced, or just having a fun night with his friends before they parted for weeks… Collie agreed they were probably right, which he hated. He’s been sulking about Gary for so long that he was starting to succumb to the emptiness in him, which wasn’t like him.

He’s only heard similar stories of soulmates when they were apart. The ache they felt was so powerful that they could be bedridden with depression if it was for too long, or dealt with an equally hollow feeling until they were reunited. Like their heart had jumped out of their chest to follow the other, even if it was to the ends of the Earth.

Codependent? Collie thought so. But wasn’t the whole concept of soulmates codependent? It wasn’t something he wished for, it just sounded like a whole new level of pain he would have to experience.

But Gary definitely wasn’t his soulmate, and Collie was used to feeling drained, so.

The party lights were a flashing mix of green, red, and white, perfectly on theme. Someone had decorated the walls with appropriate decorations, garland, wreaths, ornaments, the works. The Parker family didn’t really celebrate Christmas itself, but they still would get together for the day, wth homemade presents and his mom’s dinner. It made Collie long for her again, so he ignored them.

Across the room, Stebbins was leaning against the wall, taking small sips from a red solo cup, but he wasn’t the stray blond Collie was looking for. He was probably keeping an eye out for one or both of his boyfriends. The lights danced off the gleaming scar swirling across his face, the one that started with Pete as a string of fate.

He wondered if Stebbins ever loathed Pete for it. If he thought it ruined the perfect chiseled features. Or if having found not one, but two soulmates was worth whatever imperfections came with it. Collie never thought to ask until this moment. He wanted to pick apart what made them soulmates, so he could understand‒

Understand why Collie never hated the idea of his own soul marks. That he could protest the idea of finding someone in every single life, but he was still hurt with concern when he saw fresh bruises as a child, when seeing the discoloration of injuries that weren’t even his never bothered him.

Stebbins was smirking, and the cut curled at Collie. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, which was fitting, with how the weirdo had odd animal metaphors. He seemed to be gloating, I know what you’re here for, I know what you’re thinking, Parker, so Collie flipped him off. It made Stebbins cackle, the laugh lost in the music.

A hand clasped over Collie’s shoulder. It was Art, who truly looked beautiful in all the lights, a sweet smile adorning his face. “You want somethin’ to drink, Coll?” He called through the bass beat.

Collie leaned over so he could hear him, shouting back, “Just a beer! Thanks!” And Art nodded before disappearing into the crowd.

Piles of thriving bodies and cheering college kids, expressing their joy of finals being over, and Christmas just beginning, sandwiched in on Collie. He nudged his way through. He was used to lights and noise, finding comfort in it, having grown up in the city, but sometimes physical touch made him cringe, especially from strangers. Collie wasn’t stupid. He knew most people his age hadn’t found their soulmate yet, and were on the hunt for a new body for the night, it just wasn’t something he did often.

Letting Gary stand above him and take pictures of the soul marks was probably the closest he’s gotten to touching in a while. What went on in his mind when he fled, Collie would give anything to really know.

But Gary didn’t do parties. He made that abundantly clear from the first invite Richie extended, so there’s no way he was here.

Hope still swelled in Collie’s chest like a balloon filling the darkness when he found a loveseat to lean on, close to the kitchen, so he could see when Art would return, and a hand grazed the back of his neck. The balloon popped just as fast as Collie flinched and yanked away, the fingers foreign to his skin. Definitely not one of his friends. Definitely not Gary. He felt like he would just know.

The unknown hand brushed Collie’s long hair aside as it skimmed the few scratches that enriched his neck. “Looks like you lost a fight, gorgeous,” a deep voice hummed close to his ear.

Collie shook off being frozen and turned his shoulder to move out of reach.

The stranger was tall, dark, and handsome, sure, but definitely not Collie’s type. Guys who came on strong usually weren’t.

“Soul marks,” Collie corrected flatly. “Not mine. I don’t lose fights.”

“Haven’t found them yet, then, no?” He retorted. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have left your side.”

Collie folded his arms over his chest. He certainly wasn’t as tall as this six-foot motherfucker, but he also wasn’t scrawny or weak. “I came with my friends tonight. I’m really not interested.” He tried to keep it at that. To let the conversation end there.

The stranger smirked. It was almost as creepy as Stebbins’, just more predatory. Collie felt his skin crawl as their hazel eyes swept across his body, specifically his bulky arms. He suddenly felt too exposed in the army-green top he chose, something he wouldn’t always pick first. Less like his soul marks were just on display like art on a museum wall, and more like this guy wasn’t taking no for an answer, not without getting what he wanted, which was Collie.

“We could always make marks of our own,” he droned, and his voice was like nails on a chalkboard suddenly. Collie felt sick when the hand, more like an aggressive claw, grabbed one of his crossed arms. “Our mates never have to know‒”

A blurry motion flew by the corner of Collie’s eyes. He didn’t process the familiar body slamming into the creep until it was too late. Gary ‒ fucking Barkovitch, of all people ‒ had flown in like a damn hawk, planting both of his hands on the guy’s chest and shoving. Collie had seen Gary’s arms before. He may not show it, but he can pack a pretty good punch if he didn’t fight with anger.

Collie’s lips part with Gary’s name dancing on his tongue, but the seething hothead was already snarling, “He told you to fuck off!” In a shout through clenched teeth.

Not exactly the words Collie used. But he was too stunned to correct him. His knees had locked, lips parting in the shock of Gary’s sudden appearance, after having been the one to fuck off for weeks. To defend Collie. To stand toe to toe with some confident guy who thought he could have it all, but now stood with his nose flaring at the act of being humiliated.

Collie’s heart that always existed suddenly felt too large for his chest, which was once always so fucking empty.

He could smell Art’s cologne as his friend appeared behind him with a few drinks balanaced in both hands, approaching cautiously and asking, “You okay, buddy?” Concern in his soothing southern drawl.

Collie didn’t even nod. It wouldn’t matter if he did, because the creep is spitting, “You fuck off, jackoff,” and then Gary is swinging, and then so is his target, and it’s all a fucking mess. They’ve drawn in a crowd of those who’ve noticed, a bunch of drunk assholes cheering them on, when Gary twisted his legs to pin him down, throwing punch after punch and fuck no, Collie moves like somebody lit a fire.

He’s fuming, tucking his hands under Gary then lifting him, even as he kicks and shouts to be let go. “Enough, you’ve had enough,” Collie jeered, and shoved him away. Gary stumbled, and for some reason, he followed his footsteps with a hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hallway that slowly darkens from the absence of light, and into an empty bathroom they find. Collie doesn’t look behind him. For what it’s worth, he hopes that asshole chokes on his own blood.

Gary’s face had flooded with heat and injuries. Collie doesn’t allow either of them the grace of looking in the mirror, he just planted him onto the closed toilet seat with a push. It’s quiet, besides the sound of Gary’s heavy, uneven breathing as his adrenaline dies down, before Collie knelt and started digging through the cupboard underneath the sink. Nobody says anything. He thought it’d be better if he chewed back whatever angry words he wanted to spit out (for now).

They hadn’t been alone like this since Gary stripped Collie of his shirt and took pictures, which, oddly, felt way less intimate than whatever was in the air right now. The bathroom suddenly felt smaller. Like the walls were trying to squeeze them together.

Collie took a deep breath and shut the cupboard door, first aid kit in hand.

Neither of them speak. Even as Collie popped the kit open and sat on the edge of the tub, the knobs of their knees brushing one another with sparks electrifying through their jeans. Gary flinched when Collie grasped him by the chin and turned his head, ignoring the recoil, inspecting the cut on his puffy lip and the growing welt on his jaw. By tomorrow it’d make a pretty painting of blue and purple.

“Ow, that hurts, asshole,” Gary cursed and swatted his hand when a thumb brushed the blood away.

“Yeah, well, so does you running out of my room like a pussy and then ignoring my texts,” Collie spat back, and that was that. Gary shut his mouth and stayed as still as he could while the other tried cleaning him up with antiseptic wipes. He stopped jumping after every touch and found himself comforted by the sweeps of Collie’s warm skin so close to his.

There’s another long stretch of silence. And then Collie’s voice, almost soft, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Gary’s lip curled in disgust. His eyes seemed an icier blue than normal. “I saw ‒ I saw you tryin’ to push him away. You said no. And he just didn’t give up‒”

“You know, I still haven’t heard you say sorry,” Collie pointed out. He couldn’t mask the hurt in his tone. Punching some asshole that wouldn’t respect his boundaries wasn’t an apology, if Gary thought it was. He’s gotten better at apologizing without Ray or Richie telling him to do so, but since Collie hasn’t heard from him, he wondered if that changed.

The ice in his blue eyes melted and replaced with warmth. Gary’s cheeks flushed with heat again as he ducked his head in shame. “I’m sorry,” he finally said with no bite. Just shame.

“I’m sure you are,” Collie said curtly. He closed the kit and tucked it away. “Since instead of talking to me like some normal person, you swoop in and pick a fight instead. Sounds like you.”

“I think we both know I’m not normal,” Gary said bitterly, “and I picked a fight defendin’ you, how about you say thank you‒”

“Fuck you! I don’t even know why I try!” Collie exclaimed, and pushed on his knees to stand, but Gary’s gaze flickered from the mirror to Collie, and he quickly reached to grab his arm, keeping him in place.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry. I am, I’m so fucking sorry,” he pleaded. He started rambling, and Collie knew from expierence it was hard enough to get Gary to shut the fuck up on a good day already, “I’m sorry that I hurt you, I really never meant to. I thought it was better this way. I was scared and self-destructive, like I always am. I didn’t know how our friends would react, and I was scared if ‒ if you knew what I wanted to say you’d hate me too, but… I really am trying to be better, I’m just so scared, and I’m so sorry for it‒”

Collie pulled his arm free from Gary’s vice grip and found a new way to shut him up, slamming into one another. He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and kissed him like he was desperate for it, and fuck it, he kind of was. Collie kissed him like nobody before ever had, out of sheer desperation, and the lingering mind-numbing fear in the back of his mind that succumbing to his sorrow would destroy them both. So Collie kissed him harder instead, their lips molded into one another like the last two pieces in a puzzle, like two souls having stretched over light years to find one another.

They kissed like they fight, hard, and with the taste of blood starting to dance across Collie’s tastebuds when he crossed the split through Gary’s lip. Kisses between someone he liked never tasted like this. Tasting like it meant something deeper, something they hadn’t put their finger on yet…

But then Gary pulled away like someone doused him in ice cold water. “Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, his warm breath carressing Collie’s mouth. His hand came up to swat at himself, but Collie caught it.

“Was that… Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Collie breathed out, and hoped, hoped so fucking much it was‒

When a knock on the door startled them both. Collie shot up even though he remembered having locked it, and heard Pete’s voice soothing through the wood, “Hey, Parker! We kicked that guy out for you, it’s safe when you’re ready!” Before footsteps retreated. Fucking McVries.

“Collie, wait,” Gary begged before he could even turn around. But he did, and the sight in the mirror caused him to freeze when ice replaced his blood.

Seeing bruises on his face was never a shock for Collie unless they were his own. He’s been accustomed to his soul marks, expected them every time he saw his reflection or looked at what was supposed to be his own skin. But it didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. No, Collie had been sharing it with someone else for a long time now, and without even knowing, he had already crossed their path.

The same wounds he was staring at on Gary’s face glared back at him in the mirror. A split through his bottom lip. The swelling of a lesion on his jaw. Dark, but not blended. Going to be a nasty bruise later.

It should’ve been more of a shocking revelation, Collie thought, and even though it confounded him so badly that he couldn’t tear his eyes away, it also all felt familiar. Like he’s already done this before, a hundred of times over again, in a hundred different lifetimes. Collie had resisted it for as long as he could, but fate had led him here, to a small bathroomin a frat house with his soulmate sitting on the toilet, a frenzy named Gary Bakovitch.

“You knew.” Collie swallowed and figured it all out. “Is that what‒ are we‒”

“No,” Gary stated, “No, no, no,” but Collie didn’t know which of them he was talking to, and he never got to find out in that moment either, when he reached for Gary, and his fingers only brushed his sleeve before he was gone. Collie blinked once.

He was there one moment, and then gone.

And the spot that Collie already thought was broken beneath his chest shattered completely.

ღ 05.

Holidays came and went. Christmas, first, of course. Being surrounded by people full of joy wasn’t enough to make Collie feel better. It felt like the depth inside of him was carved deeper with the absence of Gary. Even the taste of his mom’s famous wojapi, a sweet treat after a heavier dinner, didn’t taste as pure as before. The flavor was like tart, which wasn’t her fault. It was all his.

New Year's was next. Collie wasn’t interested in another party after the last one turned into a shitshow. Meeting his soulmate, and then losing him all in one day, just like the genetic curse of the Parker’s. Collie buried himself in his bed with his miserable heartache and drowned out the fireworks outside his window, trying not to think of the soulmates delighted at the chance to have another year with the person they loved most.

Collie didn’t reach out to Gary. And Gary didn’t reach out to Collie.

Valentine’s Day was around the corner, and Collie really wasn’t trying to be bitter while he was sprawled on the floor, below Pete, who lay back on the couch to strum his guitar and work on his Valentine’s present with something from the heart. The humming was starting to drive Collie up the fucking wall.

“McVries,” Collie groaned, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes so firm he saw stars.

“Sorry,” Pete apologized, and maybe one day, he could sound like he meant it. He kept thumbing at the strings, smirking, and adding, “Though I think you’ve got your own problems if Barkovitch is your soulmate.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Collie said with a scowl. He dropped his hands. “There is no if. The scratches? The same fucking bruise from the motherfucker he socked? It should’ve been obvious from the start!”

Pete tilted his head. “It was,” he agreed.

“Not fucking helping.”

The other shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not good at this stuff.”

Collie scoffed. He didn’t believe that for a fucking second. He saw how Pete was all over Ray from day one, and then opened his heart to Stebbins, too. “Yeah, right.”

“Why’s that so hard to believe?”

“Just…” Collie waved his hand in a gesture. “You, Garraty, and Stebbins. You’re writing them fucking sonnets for Valentine’s Day. That’s somehow the grossest and sweetest thing I’ve heard, it sorta makes me want to vomit in my mouth.”

The grin turned into a shy smile on Pete’s face. “Yeah, I guess I’m a bit gross like that, aren’t I? It’s the hopeless romantic in me.”

It was quiet again, besides the lull of music, before Collie asked, “How did you react to discovering them?”

The question caught Pete off guard. He’s known Collie to brush off soulmate comments since the day they moved in together, though he supposed the poet saw right through him. “For Ray, it was easy. We just fell into each other. He kept me sane most days. I felt like every day I ran from something… Foster homes… Assholes on the road… I was runnin’ straight for him,” Pete mused.

“And Stebbins?”

“It wasn’t…” Pete tapped his fingers on the wood of his instrument. “I didn’t fall for him right away. I know soulmates can be platonic, but it wasn’t like that for us. Hell, I didn’t even like him at first. I thought that every word that came out of his mouth was garbage.” Collie was silent as he thought of Barkovitch. “We weren’t even friends. Love at first sight, now I had that with Ray. From the first time I saw his cute little doodle on my hand.” Pete paused to smile at the sweet memory. “Despite what everyone says ‘bout soulmates, it wasn’t like that with Billy, and that’s just fine. I had no idea I’d fall for him. But I knew I had to. I just figured it out later. Destiny works like that.”

He seemed to know exactly what Collie wanted to hear.

He thinks of all those years ago that he uttered, “Destiny is bullshit,” and realized he didn’t mean it at the time. Collie’s father dying was bullshit. So was dancing with Gary on eggshells when they were destined to be together.

A foot dangled over the sofa and nudged Collie’s ribcage. He felt his heart put itself together again, swelling, and pulsing, reaching for Gary. “Go get your boy, Parker,” Pete encouraged. “What better day than Valentine’s Day?”

Every year for Valentine’s Day, Collie would see his father dote over his mother. He rolled his eyes and gagged as a child as he whispered loving words in their native tongue in her ear until she blushed, showering her in affection, roses, all with a glint in his dark eyes. The day seemed just like another one out of three-hundred and sixty-five of them when he passed, like something so beautiful had to be buried with him to be safe.

Collie wasn’t much like his father. He could be friendly (sometimes), but he wasn’t a romantic like Pete. He spent approximately five minutes in a dollar store, surrounded by cheesy fifty-cent cards, various roses, and colorful balloons, before booking it. That wasn’t Gary. That wasn’t him. Wasn’t them, a voice in the back of Collie’s head whispered, but instead of quieting it, he leaned into it. He let himself feel and find his damn soulmate.

Because it wasn’t love at first sight, but it was soul recognition. The same voice tried to whisper, I found you again, but it was hushed, beaten into silence when Collie first crossed Gary. Now it was the only thing he could hear.

The whole walk to Gary’s door, Collie thought he was prepared, especially for a soulmate that had filled his emptiness with a bleeding organ that was half his, or mostly, if he was being honest with himself. He wouldn’t need a speech. The words should come to him naturally.

Then Gary opened the door after his fist pounded on it, and his swollen eyes and pink cheeks gave away that he’d been just as torn being apart, and Collie slammed his palm on the wood before it could slam shut in his face, and shoved himself inside.

Gary staggered. He didn’t expect Collie’s body to ram into his, crushing the other into his chest, and squeezing so he couldn’t squirm away. He kicked the door shut behind him and hooked his chin over Gary’s shoulder, and finally, finally, he felt complete.

“Collie‒”

“Stop,” Collie begged. He closed his eyes and buried his nose into Gary’s shirt, breathing in a sharp smell that was just purely fucking Gary, that his soul recognized. “Please, stop running from me. Stop pretending we’re not soulmates,” he confronted. Collie could barely breathe now, and he wasn’t even the one being squashed. “Gary, I can’t‒”

“Stop,” Gary pled.

Collie slowly unwove his arms and Gary reeled away. He looked so sad, but Collie’s heart broke for more reasons than just that. He still couldn’t say it. Months of knowing he was his soulmate, and Gary still couldn’t splutter the words out. Collie thought back to what Pete had said, about soulmates not always being romantic, and considered it. It’d break his fucking heart all over again, but he had to have Gary in his life, romantic or not.

“Is it ‒ is it just ‘cause of me?” Collie wondered, hurt.

“Fuck, Collie, no, I‒” Gary ground his teeth together and made a noise in the back of his throat like a wounded animal. “This is… It’s so stupid to say, but it’s not you, it’s me.”

A hollow laugh fell off Collie’s lips. “Fuck, man, really? On Valentine’s Day?”

And Gary weakly smiled back. “Yeah. But I don’t have to tell you about it. You’ve already seen all the bruises, man.”

Yeah. Collie did. He’s already seen the worst parts of Gary before he even knew him, and still loved him.

“You still can’t say it, can you?” Collie whispered. Gary shook his head. He tried to keep himself at arm's length, every step Collie took forward, he took one back. “That we’re‒”

“Collie,” is all Gary said, still pleading.

“‒What? You haven’t heard? We’re soulmates, Gary,” Collie finished anyway. Gary avoided looking him in the eyes. His glare swept across the messy room, lip curling into a frown, tears brimming in his eyelashes. Something soft washed over Collie, and he whispered, “Gary, hey…”

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m still so sorry,” Gary choked out.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but Collie still reached out, holding him like a precious thing against his chest. He guided him to the twin bed he assumed was his own, judging by the chaotic bedspread, and let Gary find comfort in his lap so he could sob freely, Collie’s arms around him. He wondered if it had been a while since he allowed himself to be touched like this. It has for him, after all, and the single thought made tears of his own start to burn.

They stayed like that together for a while. Maybe an hour, maybe years, they didn’t know, even if their souls would. Gary wept like a toddler with teeth growing in for the first time, the pain was all the same.

Then he spoke, warbly, his throat hoarse. “You told me your dad died.” A shaking arm wrapped around Collie’s neck, where Gary could comfortably turn his head, burying his snotty nose into the crook of it. “I’m sorry that ‒ that you lost your dad and your mom lost her soulmate.”

“I’m sorry for you, too,” Collie said quietly, and they both knew without him saying what he was sorry for. Gary didn’t have to will it into being.

Gary pulled away and wiped his face. “You know why I couldn’t - why I can’t…”

“I know.” Collie wiped away his tears too, gently, his thumb brushing Gary’s flushed cheek. “I know.” He understood from the moment the first hand-shaped bruise appeared. That Gary would be just as hard to love as he is, and they could figure it out, since that’s what soulmates do.

Gary slumped against him in relief. Another day, they could talk about it. He could peel back the layers like they were skin and expose the worst parts to him without running away this time. Then Gary lifted his head again, sniffling, and murmured, “I have something for you.”

Collie withdrew his arms as his eyes opened in surprise. He didn’t know what to say as Gary crawled off his lap and started digging through a couple folders on his desk. “I, um, put together my project. The soulmates one you were helping me on. I made extra copies and…” He drew in a sharp breath. “I wanted ‒ I wanted to give them to you.”

He thrust the folder in Collie’s direction and shyly expressed, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Collie’s hands trembled as he opened the folder. His heart was humming a beat he wasn’t familiar with as it took in the pictures. Gary’s taste of beauty was no exception for him. He captured the faded scars trailing across Collie’s back since he knew them as his own. He took something that was once ugly and made it beautiful, captured with a camera, his very own soulmate recognition.

“These are‒” Collie’s breath hitched. “Gary, they’re beautiful. Philámayaye.” He was so touched that it made him tear up again. He carefully closed the folder to avoid touching the pictures and smudging them.

A new shade of red filled Gary’s cheeks. He crossed his arms insecurely, his nails lightly scratching his skin as if digging into an itch without hurting himself. “I was going to call it Mine. If that’s okay with you.”

The folder is gently set to the side with Collie swearing he’ll find a safe place for it before he grasps Gary’s chin and drags him in for a warm kiss.

Their souls seemed to meld together at the touch this time, as Gary slowly started to accept it. You’re mine, a voice in his black chest sang in agreement.

ღ +01.

Gary Barkovitch’s mom begged him not to seek his soulmate.

Tears in her foggy, blue eyes. A matching pair of pale hands that trembled clasped in Gary’s much smaller ones. He knew she was hurting. He also knew her soulmate caused that kind of pain, a cut so deep-rooted that she had to bleed on him. The bruises and welts littering her skin, like splashes of purple hues on a white canvas, went so much deeper when they painted Gary’s father’s skin too, without her having laid a hand on him. His lower lip trembled, and his gaze fell. He locked it on the colors of her skin. Pain, something he was growing familiar with. He was already starting to correlate suffering with soulmates at a young age.

“Promise me,” she pleaded. “Love already hurts so much. It’s one of the most painful feelings in the world, baby, I can’t have the same happen to you.” She cupped his quivering chin and raised it. The act forced Gary to lift his head so their blurry stares met. And all he saw was pain. “Ignore your marks. Don’t forget what this felt like.”

Gary was only eight when the pieces fell together.

Having a soulmate meant having someone who loved you enough to choose a tattoo you’d like, since it’d be on their body forever, too. Someone who blew up their phone when an odd injury appeared on their body. Having them by your side was deeper than the marks. It was something you’d give up for the rest of your life if someone had a gun to your soulmate’s head and was making you choose.

Not someone like Dad.

Just because they were a soulmate didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt you. Just because they were meant to be a part of you, it didn’t mean it’d work.

“I promise,” he agreed. Hollow.

He was also only eight when he sat on his Meemaw's porch with skinned knees and a fresh bruise that didn’t throb on his elbow while he watched his Ma pull out of the driveway for the last time.

Gary remembered the pain for the next ten years.

He’s so familiar with it that he forgets it’s a second skin that he wears and shares with Collie. It’s why Gary jumped when he heard the dorm room door open again and scrambled to yank the sheet over his exposed skin before Collie could see. He thought of his scars, born from the abuse of his childhood ‒ ugly and jagged welts from a belt or stick he’d have to pick out himself ‒ and how Collie would react to seeing them. With disgust at how ugly they are. Maybe even anger as to why Gary had them at all. He’d have questions‒

The door closed and the bed suddenly dipped behind Gary. He buried his face into the crook of his elbow as he felt Collie’s thumb skin the surface of his neck, dodging freckles, and caressing the wings of his shoulders. His words are quiet, but gentle and reassuring.

“I’ve seen them before.”

Oh. Right. Gary has too. He’s seen his boyfriend’s back a dozen times before, has watched Collie change clothes, has skimmed his fingers across his spine. Whereas Collie’s weren’t inflicted, just painted across the canvas of his back, where his only punishment was being Gary’s soulmate. Remembering as much caused him to relax and allow Collie to hold him like a precious thing, arms slipped around him, shifting the sheet out of the way so it was skin against skin, back to chest, again.

A tear slid out of the corner of Gary’s eye and pooled on the pillow. The worst kind of crying was the one you didn’t hold back when you didn’t even know you were ready to.

There’s a stretch of silence before Gary says, “I don’t think my father was Ma’s soulmate.”

There. It was thrown out in the open. A secret Gary locked away in his heart and threw away the key, hoping it would drown in his blood, praying it would protect someone who never tried giving the same luxury to him. He held his breath as the quiet continued to stretch while Collie processed that.

“Why?” Collie finally asked. He wasn’t judging, Gary knew when he was ‒ the angry furrow of his eyebrows, the distaste in his tone ‒ he was curious. Gary never talked about his family, never his parents. Not like Collie, who was homesick more often than not, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest and whispering traditions and customs from home when it overtook him. Just because Gary didn’t understand them, didn’t mean he didn’t want to, didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to.

The same went for Collie.

“He wasn’t good for her.” That was a vast understatement and, as Gary’s therapist would say, minimizing the horrors. He rubbed his eyes and tried again. “You… You don’t hurt somebody you love, right? Especially not someone a part of you. He hurt her all the time.” Gary tried to think of how many times he’s seen bruises or scratches on his dad’s skin, but the memory of his childhood is so out of reach that it’s foggy. Like a mother leaving her child at the playground at night. Or their grandmother’s. “He was…” Evil. The Devil. I’m afraid the worst parts of him are etched in the worst parts of me. “Abusive.”

The bed shifts so Collie was closer. He cradled Gary, and a second later, he felt a thumb swipe away another tear. “Have I ever hurt you?” He questioned softly. Gary’s sworn he’s rarely heard his voice so quiet.

“I should be asking you that,” Gary whispered back. He could barely hear himself. He felt like he was underwater.

A hand gently pushed Gary’s shoulder, so he rolled over, and brown eyes met blue. “You’ve annoyed me.” Gary barked a wet laugh at that. “You’ve pissed me off even more. Especially when you run once things get tough. But no. You’ve never hurt me.”

Collie wasn’t a terrible liar, but Gary knew when he was, because he never lied to him. Soulmates usually can’t. Not because of some cosmic bullshit, but because they couldn’t. It would be like hurting the one you loved most in the world, and no one could live with the guilt of it.

“You’ve never hurt me either,” he admitted, and tilted his head to kiss the center of Collie’s worry line between his eyebrows. “That’s how I know you’re my soulmate.”