Work Text:
“Thomas?”
“Hm?”
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
Thomas stops writing.
He glances up from his history book and over to the person sitting across from him. Despite having called out to Thomas, Micro isn’t even looking at him. His gaze rests on the open book in front of him, pale fingers lazily playing with the pages.
“I don’t know,” Thomas says, tapping his pen against the table in thought. “Why? Where’d this even come from?”
Micro sits up, uncurling from his position around his book and leans on his palm. “I’ve been reading about all sorts of soulmate stories,” he explains. “Some are honestly pretty whack.”
“…Micro, you were supposed to be researching stuff for your paper,” Thomas says, a twinge of exasperation leaking into his tone. “What’s the point of me helping you if you’re not even going to work?”
If anything, Thomas would rather be anywhere but the library right now. It’s not that he hates the place, but they’ve already spent most of their day toiling away, researching. If only Micro would just lock in and work on his history assignment, Thomas laments, we could’ve left ages ago. Honestly, with how badly Micro struggles in their shared history course, Thomas finds it strange that Micro agreed to take it with him. Yet every time he’s asked, Thomas never gets a straight answer; just a flushed face and some stammering before Micro changes the subject.
Thomas feels a moment of déjà vu as he watches Micro's cheeks turn pink. Micro picks at his nails, still refusing to meet his gaze as he mumbles, “…I got distracted.”
Thomas’s eye twitches. He should’ve paid closer attention to what books Micro grabbed off the shelves.
Micro's gaze flickers up to meet his and winces. “Don’t look at me like that,” Micro grumbles, burrowing his face into the collar of his purple hoodie. “Just…humor me, will you?”
Thomas rubs the side of his face, looking back down at his own notes. He really shouldn’t, he thinks to himself. It’s honestly in their—well, Micro's—best interest if Thomas denies him this distraction. However, he makes the mistake of looking back at Micro, only to find him giving Thomas the biggest set of puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. His breath stutters in his chest.
…I must be God’s weakest soldier.
With a decisive “fuck it” muttered under his breath, Thomas ends up doing what he always does when it comes to Micro: indulge.
Huffing, Thomas starts pushing his books and notes aside to make space around him. Satisfied, he turns his attention back towards Micro and struggles to hold back a snort. Micro’s eyes are tearing up from the sheer effort it was taking him not to blink as he struggles to maintain his pleading look.
This dork.
Thomas bites back a smile and decides to take pity on him. He looks at Micro with a raised brow only to be met with a look of confusion. Sighing, Thomas points at Micro’s book. He watches as Micro’s face cycles through a series of different expressions, similar to a loading symbol, before relaxing in his seat as Micro realizes he’s been given the go-ahead. Instantly, Micro’s face splits into a smile so wide that the two perfectly mirrored moles on each side of his mouth look more like dimples. Without wasting a second, he scrambles out of his seat before plopping down next to Thomas. He reaches across the table to pull his book on soulmates closer, flipping back through the pages with fervor. Thomas would’ve been amused by the eagerness if it didn’t lead to a new…predicament.
When Thomas initially proposed working in this corner of their university’s library, it was because of how enclosed it was. The table they’re occupying is located near one of the many windows dotted around the upper floor, surrounded on three sides by towering bookshelves. Its location was far enough away from both the main study tables and the stairwell that they wouldn’t be bothering anyone if they accidentally got too loud.
When Thomas picked this spot, it was to prevent any possible distractions for Micro in the form of other people coming to bother them. Unfortunately, Thomas forgot to consider the chance that he’d get distracted.
As Micro searches through his book, Thomas quickly realizes how bad an idea this all was. In the glow of the late afternoon sun seeping in through the windows, Micro’s hair takes on an angelic glow, threatening to steal Thomas’s breath away. Not only that, but they’re also sitting so close. If Thomas angles his head in a certain way, he can faintly smell Micro’s coconut shampoo.
Thomas’s face burns at the thought. Palms sweating, he silently urges Micro to hurry up; the longer this goes on, the harder it’ll be for him to hold back from doing something embarrassing. Thankfully, some deity must have heard his pleas, because Micro does eventually find what he’s looking for.
A loud thud breaks through the silence as Micro slams his hands onto the open spread, causing Thomas to jump in his seat and whip his head towards the entrance of their little nook. He tries to listen over the sound of his frantic heart, but all he hears is the muted hum of the library’s air conditioning.
Right. No one else is here.
Oblivious to his moment of alarm, Micro shifts his chair even closer to Thomas, brushing his arm against Thomas’s as he does, sending tingles up Thomas’s arm. He freezes, but luckily, Micro still doesn’t notice as he angles the book towards him.
“Okay, so you know how I mentioned some of these stories being kinda whack?” Micro starts. At Thomas’s nod, he points to the page’s header, directing his attention to the painting of a cloaked woman surrounded by a pack of wolves.
“This one’s a myth that talks about how a goddess of love blessed humans with a soulmate,” Micro explains. “…Oh, right, a soulmate is—”
“Micro, I know what soulmates are,” Thomas interrupts, unable to stop the amusement from leaking into his tone. “You don’t have to explain it.”
Micro blinks at him, owlishly. “…Good point.” He turns back to the book. “Anyways, the myth goes on about how humanity adapted to this change. Each person would eventually find their soulmate, and the pairs would live happily together, whether as partners or friends.”
“That was until this one,” Micro taps on the picture of the cloaked woman, “got rejected by her soulmate. Apparently, by the time they met, her soulmate had given up on ever finding their other half and chose to pair up with someone else in a similar boat.”
Micro reaches back and flips his hood up, enshrouding his face. “Abandoned, the rejection eventually became too much for the woman, and she began to spiral. As she watched her soulmate live happily alongside another, eventually, her anger and resentment over being tossed aside grew to be too much, and she lost it. The woman collected a pack of wolves and unleashed her fury onto the world, and the only way to stop her was for her soulmate to kill themselves—”
“Wait, hang on,” Thomas interrupts, holding up a hand. He looks at Micro with furrowed brows. “What the fuck kind of story is this?”
Micro takes off his hood and, despite half of his hair being tied up in an updo, carefully rakes his fingers through his white disheveled hair. “I told you. It’s a whacky soulmate myth.”
Thomas blinks. “Okay…But why the hell did her soulmate have to die?”
“Uh…” Micro turns back to the book, his eyes swiftly skimming the pages. “According to this, it was believed that soulmates could not only share pain—” Thomas grunts as Micro punches him in the arm, “—but they also shared a life. So, if one of them died, so did the other.”
“What the hell, man?” Thomas massages his now throbbing arm. He sometimes forgets that Micro actually has some muscle underneath that hoodie of his. “You didn’t have to fucking punch me?”
Micro looks up at Thomas’ pinched face and the way he’s rubbing his limb. He winces and breaths out a, “Yeah, that’s my bad,” giving Thomas an apologetic look. “Got caught up in the moment.”
Thomas rolls his eyes. “So how does this myth end?”
Micro hesitates. “Well,” he starts, “the resulting carnage caused by the situation made the goddess of love realize that her blessing was basically just a curse. So, she used her divine powers to like, remove the bindings linking soulmates from that point on.”
Micro falls silent as he finishes. He isn’t looking at Thomas anymore, the sudden shift in mood confusing Thomas. But he takes the opportunity he’s given. “Something doesn’t make sense to me,” Thomas says.
Micro glances back at him with a questioning hum.
“You said it was ‘believed’ that soulmates could share pain,” Thomas points out. “How could they not know if they were actively feeling the other’s pain?”
“…Dude, it’s a myth. Who knows if any of this shit actually happened.”
But Thomas wasn’t satisfied. “Then why ask me if I believed in soulmates?” he presses.
At that, Micro falters. “I mean…” he fidgets with the cord dangling from his hood. “Don’t you like the idea of knowing that there’s someone out there for you?”
He pauses for a second before burying his face into his hoodie. “I know I’d like that but…” he mumbles. His eyes dart between Thomas’ brown ones. “…would you?”
“I…” Now it’s Thomas’ turn to falter. Throughout this entire conversation, Micro’s face has been devoid of its characteristic cross between bored and smug. Instead, Micro’s ashen eyes seem almost prodding.
Thomas swallows, hard. “I-I guess so?”
Micro doesn’t reply. He stares at Thomas for a few more seconds before nodding to himself. Thomas takes this as a sign that the conversation is over, and he starts preparing to get back to work. But as he grabs the notes he put aside, Micro speaks up again. “Hey Thomas?”
Thomas looks at him. Micro’s gaze is back on the book. “…Yeah Micro?”
“Do…” Micro hesitates. He bites his lip, his eyes flickering back to look at him before trying again, “Do you think we’d find each other in every universe?”
Thomas blinks. “…Honestly?” he says, a little hesitant. “I think it depends on the circumstances.”
Micro pouts. “Dude, you were supposed to say yes.”
“Wh—I’m just being practical!” Thomas splutters. “We don’t know what alternate versions of ourselves are going through.”
“Yeah yeah,” Micro grumbles, slumping his body onto the table. “Just say you hate me.”
Thomas snorts. “Get back to work,” he orders, reaching over towards their pile of books. “That paper isn’t going to write itself.”
Micro buries his head in his arms with a loud groan, but he does sit up. With a look of intense reluctance, he accepts the book Thomas hands him, along with some stationery, and starts to work.
But Thomas doesn’t.
He rubs the arm that Micro punched and thinks about a world where they shared each other’s pain. And yet… they aren’t soulmates, they don’t exist. And even if they were, Thomas thinks about how annoying it’d be to have to consider and worry about another’s well-being as much as his own. But then he looks at Micro’s profile, his eyes drifting down the length of his friend’s purple hoodie and down to his hands. Thomas observes as Micro pauses to roll his wrist before continuing to write. He distantly acknowledges that it’s the same hand he’d used to punch him. And Thomas thinks to himself that while he doesn’t know if they would always find each other in every universe, he’s happy they’re together in this one.
Even if they aren’t soulmates.