Two Names for Two Soulmates

Soulmate au where you have the name of your soulmate on a part of your body and they have your name in the same place.

I had two names on my body. Two names of two soulmates. One name was on the inside of my left wrist and the other was on my right bicep. I met the name on my wrist in third grade. The soft prick on my skin where her name was gave me the signal that the girl I had just made eye contact with from across the room was one of my two soulmates. We were both too shy to walk up to each other, so our friends had to push us into each other. When I looked into her eyes again, I saw love greater than I understood at the time, and I’m sure she saw the same.

For being soulmates, we didn’t talk much. We were both shy kids without the concept that we had to spend the rest of our lives with each other. We eventually started regularly talking, and she found out about my other soulmate. At first she was heartbroken, but that quickly turned into curiosity. I had a second soulmate, which to her meant both competition and a new friend. We shared jokes and hopes about my second soulmate.

The day came when I met my second soulmate, when I met you. You walked up to greet me and I felt the soft prick on my bicep where the ink name resided. I couldn’t keep my smile from widening, but you seemed unphased. Maybe you were too shy to bring it up like I was. Maybe it hadn’t registered in your brain. We both always had jackets on around each other, but I knew my name was on your arm like your name was on mine. Soulmates had each other’s name in the same spot. It was just fact.

Two years after we first met, I took off my jacket to flex at one of our friends. The moment you saw your name on my arm your eyes reddened and a single tear slid slowly down your cheek. At first, I thought it was joy, I mean, maybe that prick still hadn’t registered in your mind until now. Maybe seeing your name on my arm sparked the sudden realization that we were meant to be.

You told all of our friends that you needed to speak with me privately before leading me into an empty classroom. You looked at me with sad eyes as you took off your jacket and rolled up your shirt sleeve. I stood in shock at the sight before me. Your right arm, where my name should’ve been, was bare. My name should’ve been there, so why wasn’t it? We stood staring at each other for what felt like hours before you spoke up. “I have no name on my body,” you whispered. “I have no soulmate.” You ran into me and wrapped your arms around my waist. You clung onto me like I was your life support as you shook with sobs. I started crying too, but for a different reason.

For you, it was a helpless sorrow. You could only imagine how heartbroken I was. My soulmate was never going to be mine, and I was never destined to be yours. Maybe it was a harsh realization that someone had your name, but you were forced to stay alone for the rest of your life, unable to properly love them. You were sorry and hopeless and lonely and all you could do was choke out apologies between sobs.

For me, it was broken dreams and a broken heart. Thoughts and hopes of us living a perfect future together with my other soulmate were shattered. I was forced to pick up the millions of pieces by myself while you watched helplessly.

We didn’t talk much after that. It was my fault, really. I was heartbroken and stupid and I shut you out every time you’d try to talk to me. You tried for months. You tried to help me pick up the pieces, maybe even try to love me as I loved you, but I snapped at you and told you to leave me alone. You looked defeated, like a lost puppy kicked to the curb. We graduated high school after two years of avoiding you. I went to college with my first soulmate.

I had two names on my body. Two names of two soulmates. One name is on the inside of my left wrist and the other was on my right bicep. The other faded today. There’s only a faint mark of your name, barely there. I was curious why it disappeared, but then it hit me. I’ve gotten over you. It’s a bittersweet conclusion to a romance that wasn’t meant to be. I almost cried when I realized.

I got a call from your number today. For the first time in three years I answered it, but not before looking at the date. Today’s the fifth anniversary of when we first met. The fifth anniversary of getting that prick on my bicep. “Hey,” I said softly.

“You wouldn’t believe it! Your name just appeared on my right bicep!”