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The Soulmate Fuck-up Meme

The Soulmate Fuckup Meme
There's a name on your wrist. Maybe you were born with it; maybe it arrived around the time you reached adolescence. It's spelled out, in clear script - the script you learned to read first, your native language. It's the name of your soulmate.

What would a world like this be like?

Fucked-up, that's what.

(Based on this tumblr post.)

PROMPTS:
Choose just one, choose a couple, mix and match. Do what you want.

RELATIONSHIP
1: ORIENTATION CONFUSION. The name on your arm is the wrong gender. Maybe you thought you were straight, but the name is the same gender as yours. Maybe you knew you were gay, but the name is opposite-sex. Maybe you just didn't want anyone to know, and you hide your arm, pretend to be something you aren't. But there it is - the evidence glares at you every time you brush aside your sleeve. The name has to be right. Doesn't it?
2: JUST PLAYING AROUND. You're not soulmates with the person you're with. You're just playing around. Or maybe you're really in love - and no one will believe you. How do you face the complete inability of society to accept you? How do you face the inevitable, fated end of your relationship? How can anything be important, when you know it won't last?
3: ONESOMES, THREESOMES AND MORESOMES. You're soulmates with person A who's soulmates with person B who's soulmates with you. What now? - Or maybe you're meant to be in a polyamorous relationship. Or you're asexual, and the thought of that name fills you with dread.
4: ALONE. Your soulmate died. Your soulmate never showed up. Your soulmate never existed. Or your soulmate refused you.
5: FIRST TIME. You've never dated anyone else before. What would have been the point? And now you're moving in, you're getting married - why wait? You're soulmates, aren't you? What could go wrong?
6: TOGETHER. Yep. Here we are. Here you are, and here I am, and here are our names on each other's arms.
7: OTHER.

STAGE
1: INVESTIGATION. So there's this name, and you've plugged it into Google, and the only match you can find is some asshole's Facebook account. He looks like a real jerk. Or maybe you got nothing, and you hired a private investigation firm that specializes in this kind of thing. Now you have an email address, or phone number, or a home address, and what's next is to pick up the phone, write that letter, knock on that door.
2: REVEAL. A superstar's name is on the wrist of a teenager. The President's name is on the wrist of her opponent. Your name is on the wrist of someone in jail. Turns out that name on your best friend's wrist was yours - only you never knew, not until you found out who your parents were. You've just discovered your soulmate, or just revealed yourself to them. What next?
3: GETTING TOGETHER. You're in the early stages. Dating, maybe. Getting to know each other. Moving in, under the watchful eyes of other friends, happy and soulmated and eager to have their view of the world confirmed in you. But do you even really know this person? What makes you so suited, anyway?
4: TOGETHER FOREVER. Maybe you've been together thirty years, and you still have that same fucking argument about who washes the pans after you cook a steak. Maybe you sit in silence because there's nothing to say, and it's incredibly boring. Maybe you work in harmony, but you wonder: is it because you were supposed to be together all along, or just because you never had another choice?
5: TECHNICALITIES. Society won't let you get married. So what if you just change your name to the name on her wrist, and she changes her name to the name on yours… Or maybe you can't get insurance, because you're not married with a soulmate. Don't have the right to vote. Can't get promoted in your job.
6: A BROKEN SYSTEM. Soulmates might be perfect, but people aren't perfect. The world isn't perfect. And this world has screwed you over, time and time again. But - maybe you still found a way to be happy.
7: OTHER.

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Hyuuga didn't like to think of himself as a late bloomer. But he was.

Seventeen years old and his wrist was still bare. Not that it was unheard of. For some people it just happened later than others. There were those whose soul mate's name revealed itself on the doorstep of puberty, and there were others who didn't see a thing come through until they were 18, or 19, or 20 even. But that still hadn't stopped him from being privately self-conscious about it. In his first year of high school he'd even spent a few weeks wearing a discretion patch on his wrist as though covering up a name that wasn't there. But that had been while his hair was bleached blond and he'd spent his days bristling with resentment over the very mention of basketball.

He'd said less about it since, but it still bothered him.

Forget that he'd never even had a girlfriend; Hyuuga never doubted for a moment that somewhere out there in the world there was a woman who he was destined to be with, destined to love, a woman who he'd marry someday and raise a family with.

Waiting for her name to appear was like waiting for a window to open, waiting to breathe new air. In fact, it's possible that the only time it wasn't lingering in his mind was when he was on the court, his whole attention focused on basketball. That might be why, when the flat of his palm finally met Kiyoshi's on the court, his mind had registered nothing about that limb other than the feeling of their high-five.

He didn't even think about it later in the locker room. The game had been rough, what was a little patch of reddened skin when half the team was scuffed and scraped and bruised.

It was only in school the day after that someone pointed it out, and once they had Hyuuga found he couldn't help himself from worrying it. It started to itch like mad, the skin peeling away like an old sunburn layer after layer, and once he was home that evening, he watched it with a kind of twisted fascination, trying to peel it back and reveal what it said underneath.

He was still surprised that he'd managed even a fitful sleep that night. But he did sleep, and when he'd woken up in the morning, it was with the instantaneous urgency to check and discover what the night had revealed. He'd pulled his wrist up in front of his eyes, holding it an inch from his face so that he could see even without his glasses on. He remembered staring wide-eyed and disbelieving at the familiar characters, the universe's twisted idea of a joke--he'd sat up, put on his glasses, and read it again; he felt like a pit had opened somewhere in his stomach and he was slowly falling into it. Then he'd taped over his wrist, assembled an arsenal of excuses, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and went to school.

For days he managed to deny and deflect: he said that nothing had come through yet, that it was just taking a long time, that the itching was too bad and he'd scratched it too raw to read just yet. He kept silent when talk in the locker room turned to the topic of soul mates and their identities, when the other boys spoke the names of girls they hoped to one day meet, and held out their wrists for mutual inspection.

It wasn't lost on him that Kiyoshi, whose wrist he'd never even seen uncovered, kept quiet during these conversations. And of course it even occurred to him that the name the other boy bore could be the counterpart to his own. But then again, it might not. People said that happened sometimes, a sort of cosmic misalignment. Honestly, Hyuuga didn't know which was worse. And he didn't know if he wanted to know either.

He made excuses as the other filed out, meaning to hang back and walk home alone. But when everyone else had gone he found he wasn't on his own at all. All he'd succeeded in doing was assuring that he and Kiyoshi were alone together.

Teppei had known the name of his soul mate since middle school. Actually, he hadn't met someone who had known as early in life as he had. As it happens though, knowing the name of your soul mate from the age of thirteen isn't necessarily the best thing. He can still recall the feeling of staring at his wrist in the bath one evening, droplets of water falling from his finger tips as his hand hovered over his face. Hyuuga Junpei... He didn't know this person, but it was a boy.

Somehow the latter point wasn't as much of a sticking point as the fact that he didn't know them yet. That was common enough, but it made Teppei ansty, imaging what kind of person matched the name on his wrist. At the start of every school year, in every new class, Teppei would listen closely during roll call just in case there was an unfamiliar name on the list that he recognised. He was always disappointed and slumped back into his seat with just enough time to register his own name being called and acknowledge that he was indeed there.

When he started playing basketball he began to hope again, listening intently as Shouei's team introduced themselves in turn. By this point he had learnt not to be so knocked back to find his soul mate wasn't among a particular group at any given time. He may never meet this person, but he always wants to try and find them, even if most cases now lead to him smiling faintly and uttering a soft "Ah... I see. He's not here either."

Over the years he wrangled that all in entirely. He realised at some point that having a boy's name emblazoned on his body was probably not the best thing to parade around with when you're a boy too. So he took to covering it up with a simple, standard flesh-toned band aid-style concealer, not because he was ashamed but because it made sense.

He still listened closely whenever they played a match, attentive to the names of every player on the opposing team and smiled the whole way through. Small blessings were found in the knowledge that none of the members of Teiko Middle School's basketball team bore the name that was on his wrist when they crushed Shouei so excessively.

High school should have had the buzz of discovery, but by that point Teppei had mellowed out completely. He still, on occasion, "spoke" to Hyuuga--wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he looked like, what he enjoyed doing, whether they were the same age and studying the same things, whether he was older or younger, if he was even in Japan at all, let alone Tokyo. It was a habit, but he stopped actively searching. He'd come to the conclusion that this was just something not to hound--it would come to him.

And seemingly just when he stopped looking for Hyuuga, Hyuuga found him. Or crashed into him, as the case was. And Teppei harassed him to create a basketball team together, even before knowing his name. Names didn't matter much anymore; as long as they liked basketball, Teppei liked them. It actually wasn't until talking to Izuki that Teppei even learnt the name of the (at that time) blonde boy he'd been doggedly following around and when Izuki referred to Hyuuga Teppei stared. Hyuuga who? Yes, that was definitely the name on his wrist...

Perhaps Teppei expected to feel something more eruptive, but instead he was strangely calm, letting the surprise drain from his face and smiling faintly as he said back to Izuki "Ah, there's no way I can just let someone like that walk away."

He wanted time to get to know Hyuuga, to find out what kind of person he was and find out the reason why, of everyone in the world, his was the one forever on his skin. It didn't take too terribly long for Teppei to find out and it just made things difficult; there was no way he could ever tell Hyuuga he had his name on his wrist, especially when it seemed clear Hyuuga didn't match. It would be awkward, uncomfortable for Hyuuga especially, and it wasn't like they were friends, at least as far as the other boy was concerned. For Teppei though it was hard to not feel for him in ways that he was sure had more to do with Hyuuga himself than the fact his name was on Teppei's wrist.

He never told him. How could he?

Now though, Hyuuga's name seems to have either finally appeared or was well on the way to show through any time now and Teppei is in a position to help.

"Here," he says brightly, holding a bottle of ointment to lightly tap the cool glass to Hyuuga's elbow "You seem to be having a tough time with that. I remember mine being really itchy, but this was soothing and helped take the edge off."

Well, how was he to know Hyuuga was trying to escape alone? He had no reason to think anything is amiss at all.

Hyuuga almost jumps when he feels the tap against his arm, not because Kiyoshi has surprised him, but because for a second the possibility that it might be a hand, not a bottle, extended to him sparks some kind of electrical storm in his brain.

For several seconds he just looks down at the proffered ointment, trying to decide what he should do, trying to weigh everything he knows about Kiyoshi to decide whether he's really the kind of person who would keep the person named on his wrist a secret even after he'd met them and knew their identity. The truth is, whatever he might suspect, he can't be sure. He needs some sort of confirmation.

Everything inside of him seems to coalesce around this one question: Is it my name that's on his wrist?

He needs to know, he decides, even if he has no idea what he'll do with the knowledge. He just needs to know...but he also can't simply ask.

He takes the bottle in his hand, stares at it in silence for several seconds more--he could just take it and lie, continue his charade even here. That might be safest, but it's not what he wants. So he passes it back to Kiyoshi unopened. "Thanks, but... It's okay. It stopped itching days ago."

"Oh..."

It's a fairly subdued response to this disclosure, though in many ways there isn't a great deal to say. If it stopped itching then that means the process is most likely complete and Hyuuga knows he name of his soulmate now. And he doesn't want to share.

Which is fine by Kiyoshi; he's not been one to share either.

While all the discussion went back and forth in the locker-room--["What do you think yours is like?"
"I hope she's a super-model or something!"
"Tsuchi, what's up?"
"Don't mind him, things are just awkward because the name on his wrist isn't the same as his girlfriend..."
"D-DON'T SAY IT SO CASUALLY! It's a really big deal..."
"At least you have a girlfriend, who cares if it's not your soulmate--a lot of people just never meet."
"Seriously. It's pretty sad, but how weird would it be if it was someone you knew!" "It'd be weirder if it were one of us."
"Eh? But we're all boys..."
"That would be weird. Wow, what would you even do about that."
"It shouldn't make any difference. Whether they're girls or boys, your soulmate is someone truly special, your most important person. It shouldn't make a difference."
"Ohhh! You've thought a lot about this! That's sorta profound!"
"...it'd still be weird though."
"Sorry! I did a few more rounds! Eh? What are we talking about?"]--Teppei had kept quite quiet. It's not like this topic doesn't come up every now and then, and every time it does he studiously makes no comment at all.

He's sure that's not gone unnoticed and he has on occasion been asked about it, but each time he's just smiled, put a finger to his lips and stated it was an absolute secret. That seems to have a better effect than trying to pretend it's not there or getting flustered about the whole thing, by saying it's a secret outright is him laying down his boundaries: No, I am not sharing.

So he isn't going to push Hyuuga about this, especially because his assumption is that Hyuuga has someone else's name on his wrist other that Teppei. It happened, Teppei has been expecting it and that's fine. He's already prepared himself long ago for the fact that he sort of adores his jackass of a soulmate who will never feel that way back. And it's fine, it honestly is, he's ready to support and care about whomever Hyuuga's soulmate turns out to be and show genuine happiness for them. It's what he needs to do if he has any hope of keeping Hyuuga in his life and not destroying himself in the process. Teppei's a protector, not self-destructive.

Taking the bottle back and turning it over in his hands, the sort of awkward silence after his poor excuse for a reaction remains until he smiles widely.

"That's a relief. I was going to tell you to go to the doctor if it was going on for more than a week."

Edited (ALL THE EDITS. SORRY.) 2014-06-20 21:09 (UTC)

"Yeah," Hyuuga says simply, already feeling like they're having one of those fabled iceberg conversations where 90% of what's being said isn't being said at all.

Maybe if he had an iceberg-to-Japanese translator he wouldn't feel like all the important information was escaping him. The only thing he knows for sure is that when he says "yeah" what he really means is "no, it's no relief at all." That, at least, is probably pretty obvious to anyone. He simply does not appear happy or buoyant or excited with the results.

He's quiet for a few seconds, folding a few things and setting them into his locker. His mouth feels dry and tight, like there's a garrote around his throat blocking the thing that he most wishes he could say: Whose name is on your wrist, Kiyoshi?

Finally, he finds different words instead, ones that his tongue is willing to let past his lips. "I guess yours has been there a long time, huh?"

There's really no mistaking the feeling in the room, that something's going unsaid and they both know it but neither is going to directly name it which makes that unspoken tension more palpable.

It's an odd feeling for Teppei, who has known for years and years who Hyuuga is to him but being completely unable to do anything about this knowledge at all. And now Hyuuga knows his person too and Teppei is far too cautious and protective of his secret now to dare broach the idea of them both disclosing to each other in an open way. It's like revealing cards in Poker with Teppei not feeling the least bit confident about his hand and unable to read any tells from Hyuuga.

Which is why the question catches him by surprise a bit--Hyuuga has never asked before.

"Mm, it has. Since middle school. I think I was the first in my grade to get it. So I guess it's been there about five years now."

He turns the bottle of ointment over in his hands, more of a nervous fidget than anything else as he looks to the side.

"But I don't think it matters when it shows up, really. It doesn't make any difference in the long run."

"Doesn't it?" Hyuuga is skeptical.

"Maybe it's because I only just got mine, but I'm feeling like it'd make a pretty big difference if I'd known what this was going to say back in middle school." He makes a vague, frustrated gesture with his wrist, wondering how differently he would have been acting these past two years if he'd known it would be some guy--this guy--all along.

Then he sighs, swallowing the frustration and scrubbing his hands through his hair. He doesn't want to lose his patience with Kiyoshi. Even while a part of him feels that this is Kiyoshi's fault (it's not, of course), another part of him is dreading the unbearable possibility--the likelihood--that he is not Kiyoshi's One.

It's not because he desperately wants Kiyoshi (he doesn't, or at least he doesn't think he does); he's just not ready to have it confirmed that he's actually doomed to being alone by some chance of fate.

The possibility makes another question has come to him, a question that only amplifies his self-doubt: If it was my name, wouldn't he have told me by now? After knowing for years, wouldn't he have said something?

"Hm... Maybe it would, but maybe it wouldn't. I think it's different for everyone and depends on the name they've got."

Stepping over, Teppei takes a seat beside Hyuuga, continuing to roll the bottle between his large palms without much fear of his own name being on display.

He'd always been careful about that since people started pointing out how funny it was that he had a boy's name on his wrist, saying it wasn't right, that it must mean that Teppei or his soulmate (or both) were somehow defective. He could deal with those sorts of comments, but it did get tiresome trying to explain so often that he really didn't mind that his soulmate was a boy and how it shouldn't matter either way because it doesn't make your important person any less important.

In high school, after meeting Hyuuga, he tried especially hard to keep it hidden though. So he had no fear that Hyuuga was about to get a flash of his name on Teppei's wrist now as he taps his fingertips against the neck of the bottle. he feels like Hyuuga probably didn't get a name he's especially happy with, maybe he was expecting Riko and it isn't her, so he should try to add some perspective.

"... You know, my grandparents names don't match."

"How does it depend, Kiyoshi?" Hyuuga is still tying not to get frustrated, but it's difficult. "Either it's someone you know or someone you don't, someone you think you could have feelings for or..." his voice trails off with a frown.

Either it's good news or it's bad. Isn't that the bottom line? In the end, Hyuuga supposes, he never prepared himself to face the reality of that kind of bad news. Not that he would have been disappointed with a name he didn't recognize. He was almost looking forward to the open possibilities of a name he didn't recognize--it would have been like having a future destination revealed to him that left all the pathways forward free and discoverable.

Now, he feels, his future is sitting right here in this room talking to him. And if it's not then it's...nowhere. The paths all look blocked and terminated at the outset. He's taking it pretty hard.

But he does appreciate what Kiyoshi is trying to do in talking about his grandparents, at least. "Yeah? And how's that worked for them?" In spite of himself a tone of cynicism creeps in. There's bound to be a snag--names don't mean nothing. Sometimes older people find each other later in life, after their proper soulmate has died. They make lives together as new companions. It's not unheard of.

Somehow, Teppei isn't surprised by Hyuuga's edginess, it just says more conclusively to him that Hyuuga is displeased with the name on his wrist. Which in turn leads him to wonder about something far more personal--were they matched and Hyuuga was deeply unsettled by it?

That had always been a possibility in Teppei's mind, but he's previously considered it as a lower, less probably outcome. He'd never had high hopes for it if it had turned out to be true either and expected if his name somehow ended up on Hyuuga's wrist that it could turn out to be one of the worst possible outcomes. It'd be better if their connection is one-sided, Teppei can deal with that.

But there's a sinking feeling in his stomach that there's a kind of resentment in Hyuuga's voice, a feeling that he's not only displeased with his soul mate but that maybe he's been cheated out of having someone more suited, more normal, someone better. It's not that Teppei's ego is fragile, but the idea that his name could be the reason for Hyuuga seeming so jaded is difficult to stomach and makes his heart ache even in the abstract.

That's all inside though and Teppei shakes his head with his usual smile.

"It worked out. You know that. They've been married for years and years. They got married before the war because they were in love. Grandma told me that grandpa said that it didn't matter they didn't match, because he loved her so much and he'd rather have that than search for something he may never find. Grandma found out her soul mate died in the war, grandpa met his later in life. He said she was a lovely lady and he could imagine any man falling in love with her, but that even as soul mates he couldn't feel a connection to her and it didn't hold a candle to grandma."

Leaning forward, Teppei thumbs at the cap of the bottle and stares across at the line of lockers ahead of him. Running is tongue over his lips, Teppei clears his throat again.

"I think... soul mates are scary. Sometimes. But I think it's taken so seriously, like it's the only possibility, or there's only one path, one way to do and be soul mates. Maybe it's because I've known mine for a while, but I never expected to be with that person romantically, really. I think of it more like the red string, not a chain; it connects you somehow, but it shouldn't be something to tie you down or restrict you. I think soul mates are more complex than neat, simple fixes."

He makes himself grip tightly to the bottle, suddenly very glad its there because it's something to focus his hands on and stop them shaking. He's not lying to Hyuuga here, it's all stuff he honestly believes, but at the same time it's like walking the edge of a pool, sometimes wobbling a bit closer to falling in and other times going closer to solid land, but never quite steady.

Still frowning, Hyuuga sighs. Yeah, yeah, he does know that Kiyoshi's grandparents have been together for a long time, and he's never heard anything to indicate they were anything but happy. But then, the voice of skepticism says, why would he? It's not like their grandparents' generation would make something like that public or share it with a bunch of teenagers.

Really, he just has trouble believing that their story was as easy as Teppei says, that there wasn't more conflict, more doubt. Maybe it's a matter of age; maybe things were different back then. But the claim that Teppei's grandfather had met his soul mate later in life and felt nothing? It just sounds like an oversimplification of a more difficult story. Hyuuga doesn't buy it.

Hell, for all he knows, Teppei's grandparents could have told him whatever version of their story they thought it best for their grandson to hear. What kind of guardians would tell a kid about their strife and unhappiness anyway. Certainly no grandfather would confess to his grandson if he'd been tempted to infidelity.

"So you're saying that you've decided to ignore the whole thing, just say that the name means nothing?" With a rueful shake of his head, Hyuuga gives a little snort of half laughter. "That's nice for you if it feels like it works." But not for me.

There's something else in Kiyoshi's remark that snags in Hyuuga's mind though, and even if he knows it would be wiser to let go, he finds that he just can't--it only renews the question of whose name Kiyoshi has: He never expected to be with them romantically.

What exactly is he trying to say?

"So it's someone you already know then, huh?" At this point, he can't not ask.

"I didn't say I've ignored it, or that it means nothing!"

He's not snapping exactly, but the retort comes out quickly and perhaps more defensively than he'd have liked it to. The truth is, however, he's a bit insulted that from all he's said that is what Hyuuga decides to take from what Teppei is saying. It frustrates him, but he also tells himself he can't be annoyed at Hyuuga for not knowing any better. After all, he's not told him that he is the person who Teppei has on his wrist, the person he cares the most about, and the person he is therefore certain he can never be with in the way soul mates are traditionally meant to be together.

Frowning, he heaves a big, deep sigh and glances away to the side. Bit by bit, he's starting to feel a bit boxed in, like he's having information squeezed out of him and is already telling Hyuuga a great deal of personal information and internal process that his friend just doesn't seem to be picking up on. But more than that, being packed into a corner in this way means he can't lie, and so after a moment he nods.

"Yeah. It's someone I know. Someone very important to me."

Hyuuga's frustration flares as well. Nothing that Kiyoshi is saying makes sense. It's all at odd ends and no part of it seems coherent.

"Then how--?" ...Unless it's him.

Hyuuga stops dead in the middle of his sentence. Unless it's him. But there needs to be another explanation. Statistically, the likelihood of two people of the same sex having each others names is only slightly higher than the chance of names mismatching.

But the chance that the name on Hyuuga's wrist is a mismatch and that the name on Kiyoshi's is someone who he knows and cares for but can't have a romantic future with... The probability is just too slim.

The likelihood, however, is also unfathomable. If that's the answer then Hyuuga's not ready to hear it.

He blinks, looks away, takes his gym bag out of his locker and closes the door.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm going." Not running away, he tells himself. He just needs some air, and he can't think of what else to say.

As Hyuuga goes to his locker, Teppei remains seated. He's still and quiet, not making any sudden move to stop Hyuuga or make him stay. As a starting point, this is probably as far as they can get without causing one another damage right now.

The relative uncertainty between them is not comfortable, but there's enough unspoken between the two of them that it's possible to pretend, at least for now, that they're not talking about and around each other. There's a part of Teppei that almost certainly knows, in his heart of hearts, that they match one another. However to have that confirmed right now would be too painful coupled with the knowledge that Hyuuga's name has made him this intensely uncomfortable.

As the door clangs closed, Teppei lifts his eyes to look at Hyuuga, a heaviness in his chest that he refuses to let rise through his body or into his face as he nods.

"I don't believe it doesn't matter, Hyuuga."

Somehow, without really intending to come to the knowledge, Hyuuga feels keenly aware of the razor edge his words and emotions hold to Kiyoshi's skin. It would take only the flick of an utterance to cut him so deeply: a confession about the name on Hyuuga's wrist would do it.

The only safe move is just to get away.

"Well, whatever. It is what it is." It's just that what it is is exactly what they're not saying. And for now that really is for the best.

He doesn't wait for Kiyoshi to walk out with him. He barely even pauses at the door to say "I'll see you" before he's gone. But Kiyoshi's words will linger with him for a long time, that night and beyond, because if it does matter...

What then?

All Hyuuga really knows right now is that he simply doesn't know what the answer could be.

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