soulmate au.
You stared at the baby blue sky, the grass blades sticking through the fabric of your shirt as you roll to your stomach to watch the dandelions still waiting to bloom.
A red string appeared.
It swirled and twisted around your finger like a smoke way downwards and away to somewhere you couldn’t even bother to know.
You had a soulmate now. You growl in annoyance, bringing the edges of your palm against your eyelids and dig them deep until you see the blue and red cluster of dots flying through the darkness. How could this happen?
Just as you, finally, settled into your skin and thought you were okay being soulless. That was fine. You were proud of it ! Not be chained down by another person who could be anyone, to be chained to a stranger that had so much damn control in your life. Peace!
And then the universe throws this bullshit at you.
Great !
You didn’t mean to murder someone in your past live, or step on a puppy, because this red string means that everything you went through— the bullies, the family, the struggles, the 3 a.m. thoughts, was for nothing.
That, in the end, all that you went through was to be suddenly washed away by the magical power of love and you’ll settle down, abandon your dreams, and marry some fucking stranger.
Weren’t parents always preaching about white vans and strange men, but go all kumbaya when a string gets involve.
It gets your blood pumping, your teeth grinding and you look at the red string wrapped around your finger and wished the color of your soul mate was the same when you spilled it in the ground.
The clouds above float so lazily, carefree and you, not for the first time, wish you too could just float away and leave the problems that chain you.
One of those chains went by the name of Responsibilities. And it was ringing through your phone, vibrating in your pocket, calling you forth.
You fished it, lazily, not even bothering to see the name of the number, as it wasn’t even a second before the screaming match started.
“WHERE ARE YOU? Do you not REALISE what today’s date is?! We have investors coming today! And where are you?!”
You sigh, already exhausted the moment you pressed the answer button. Yes, you remember today’s date as you haven’t had a decent lick of sleep preparing to the lead up of the meeting.
You are a shitty artist, with a shitty life and little pay.
“Why do you even want me there? I already painted all the art you wanted, let the others deal with those vultures.”
You truly did put as much effort into those paintings, making everything you could squeeze from the dry towel of creativity.
“They requested you by name! They’re interested! And that means money!”
“So?”
“Y/N!”
You pull the phone away from your throbbing ear, grimacing at the thought of facing your dealer on a Monday.
“Okay, okay, I heard you. I’m coming over now,” With that, you hanged up and with it all the hopes that you could rest.
You look down at the red string. You tisk in disgust and start walking towards your doom.
___
Never in your life did you think that you wanted to hang out with homeless people before. They’re an interesting type of people, with equally interesting stories to tell. Maybe if you had stayed in the park, you could have gotten the chance to hang with them.
It could have been ten thousand times better than the shitty situation you were in.
Turns out, you were going to the investors, not the other way around. People talked pleasantly, light laughter and prim and proper of a polite society. And here you were, a bright fish out of water.
You kept your gaze downwards, sitting in the dark corner, away from the big crowds. A cold drink being steadily warmed through your gripping hands, as the boredom started to mix with anxiety like a bad cocktail.
This isn’t exactly what you imagined. You thought of fancy suits and fancier dresses with butlers and waitress with drinks at hand. Well, they have all the above, but not once has anyone said anything to you. Or even pointed or looked your way.
But the red string is still there, taunting you with each passing second you stare at it. Bloody thing still wrapped itself around your finger, not actually touching your skin but close enough to tug at you.
You hate it.
Oh well, at least there were free drinks here. It’ll be long over if you can just stand there with your eyes cast down, not making a fuss. Which was all going pretty well in your humble opinion, when the cursed string tugged at you.
You seethed silently, wishing it would just stop– when it suddenly tugs harder again, snapping your eyes upwards.
And find your soulmate is staring at you. Maybe its the wine in your system, but time slowed down, just for the two of you, the glow of the low lights shining through his back and casting an angelic form for his blond hair. He too, look surprise, his grip on the glass drink fell loose, (he has the bluest eyes) shattering the trance that got you thinking the strangest things.
As people around him gasp and try to help, crowding around him, you snatch the opportunity with both hands and fast walk the hell out of there.
With hands trembling, you fumble out a text saying a quick sorry for your shitty dealer/friend, knowing this was important to her. You would even donate more time, just make it up to them.
A hand blocked your exit.
You jerked around, armed and ready to give whoever a piece of your mind, when you froze at the small man blocking your way. He was glaring exclusively at you, his dark eyes pinning you with ease.
“Excuse me, but I’m trying to–”
“You aren’t going anywhere without talking to Erwin.” You tilt your head in confusion, opening your mouth to maybe sway him he has the wrong person, only to shut it when the man at the other end of the string starts walking this way.
Panicking, you smile in apology as you rip the door open, pushing him aside so quickly the poor man stumble and cussed.
You didn’t even made to be steps outside when a body crashed into your right side, with such brutal force it left you gasping and swaying in your feet. Shitty balance!
Your hands instinctively grabbed anything to stop the date with gravity, then you’re holding a warm hand as your eyes look up to your saviour.
You just noticed how blue his eyes are. Strong jaw, and contoured chiseled face, lips full and with those eyes just staring at, what feels like his soul piercing.
Warmth rushes through your face, snatching your hand away, just to see the barest little string between you. God, you were staring.
But before you could make a classic Hollywood escape, the same hand caught your elbow as you were turning.
“Please, could we just talk?”
Jesus, even his voice is nice; Deep and just your type. This is a cliche, a teenager’s wet dream, but you live in reality and that means not talking to strangers. But you stumble through your words.
“Uh— I mean, I got, a, um, date. And well, I can’t stay here? I, uh, really nice seeing you. I’m sorry, uh, I gotta roll. Dude.” You blurted so much bullshit, you wondered if he was going to call you out from just smelling it. The smaller (midget, your mind snarked) man glared at you with such vengeance and hate, that maybe, yeah, leaving would give you the best chance of survival.
And now, you could see a woman, the thing that hard slammed you in the side, still grinning in victory.
The man’s face (your soulmate, your heart whispered) fall into devastation. It almost, too close, cracked your face, letting go of your tangled fears, but then you caught yourself in the flashes of memories of bullies, and spite ran through your chest.
“I— I am sorry. I—” The ringing of your phone has never felt so relieving. You fumbled through your jeans, shaking hands opening it to be greeted by a old friend in the same industry. His hand fell limp in his side.
“Hey, Y/N! Sorry for calling so late but—”
“Hey, sweetheart, yeah, I know I’m late. I’m sorry, I’ll call you and explain this later, please call me back?”
“Um, what the fuck? Uh, sure.”
You hang up, breathing hard and scratch your cheek, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, look— I haven’t really settled down for this? I — Jesus.”Â
This is a mess, you need to get the fuck out of here. That must have bleed into your face, because his grip was back with vengeance, holding a grid tight hold to you. You jump back in surprise.
“Please, just your name. That’s all, please?” It’s so weird, the man looks like he belongs among the CEO’s of New York, the top dogs that are miles apart from the normal joe like yourself. It strange, seeing him so crumbled and desperate for such a simple thing.Â
“I’m y/n,” You whispered like holding into a secret, childish and  — wait a fucking moment, did you just tell him your name? Without you realizing it?
“Erwin, I’m Erwin Smith. Can we please talk Y/N?”
Well shit.
—
Pt.2