platonic soulmate AU

Clearing out the WIP/rough drafts in my Googledocs that won’t get fics anytime soon. If anyone wants to add on/chime in/create something, feel free.

On the day Smith gets his second soulmate name, the first name on his wrist disappears. The person he thought he was in love with breaks up with him. He’s thrown. And what’s worse, the name on his wrist is the name of his best friend. Who’s been nameless since the day he was born, and has never been interested in Smith like that. Who’s been dating a girl for years on end. Who’s name is Trott.

cw: tattoos, pain, fainting, mention of breakups, mention of (tattoo) needles
very real-person-fiction-y
If I need to tag something, let me know.



supposed to be titled: Struck, or More Than Friends

Alternate Universe – Soulmates, Pining, Angst, Friendship, Affection, Physical Intimacy
Soulmate Identifying Marks, Tattoos, Soulbonds

no sex, no “romance” per say. But affection, friendship, and what it means to call someone your soulmate. what it means to have relationships with someone, or multiple someones.

Smith laying in bed all day, feeling sorry for himself. wrist’s been burning intermittently. idly scratching it. leaving behind red marks from his nails, but black script catches his eye
heart leaping in his throat, wide eyed as he reads the name
and then his heart plummets into his stomach.
He blinks harder in disbelief, rolls himself out of bed and into the bathroom where there’s better light.
The name stays the same. In careful script reads Trott’s name.
Smith sits down on the edge of the tub and puts his head in his hands.
There was no way there was another person with the same name, was there?
But how…how was that possible? He’d known Trott for years, but he’d never-
Trott never had a name, period. And Smith never had his. So how come, after knowing each other for so long…Smith had gotten Trott’s name on his wrist?
Fuck.
Fuck.
He didn’t want to ruin Trott’s relationship. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship with this.

Smith wears a long-sleeved shirt and a hoodie into work the next day, paranoid. He tries to pretend like everything’s normal, but it’s not. He’s not even over his fucking breakup, how can he deal with all this?
He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse when he notices Trott doesn’t have his name. His wrists are clearly unmarked. Bare. Obvious, when he makes a cup of tea in the breakroom.

Between recording, Trott pulls off his headphones. “Smith, mate. You’ve been acting weird all day.”
“Have I?” Shit.
“You feeling alright?” Ross asks. “You’ve been really distant.”
Smith pauses, trying to come up with any excuse. Might as well be obvious about the first part of his shitty disposition. “I got broken up with.”
“Shit, mate. That sucks.”
“Fuck. How come?”
Smith lets himself rant on for a good while. Just chatting is nice, it’s nice to get this much off his chest. Trott and Ross are great as always.
But then Ross asks if he’s gotten another name.
“No. No, I haven’t,” Smith lies.
“Welcome to the club,” Trott jokes, and Smith fakes a laugh.

They get to the tail-end of recording that day, and Smith is going nuts. He feels like the name on his wrist is going to burn through his clothes, and Trott will see, and-
And…
He doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to deal with this.
Trott and Ross stay back and edit, and Smith blows off saying he isn’t feeling great.
They let him go.
Smith goes to a tattoo parlor and tries to pay someone to burn the name on his arm out.
“You know that by doing this, the person on your wrist will hurt, too.”
“He doesn’t have my name. It shouldn’t do a thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your sympathy, I just need this gone.”
“This is still going to hurt you.”
“I understand that.”
The tattoo artist sighs. “Alright. Follow me, please. I need you to sign a couple forms, and then we can start.”
Smith follows them past the counter, to a chair in the back corner, and sits down. He signs the forms, and listens intently as the tattoo artist explains the process.
It’s a very simple design: an arrow in black ink.
The minute the needle touches skin, it’s excruciating.
Smith bites the inside of his cheek.
The tattoo artist pulls away momentarily. “Told you.”
Smith is too busy trying to breathe to tell him to shut the fuck up.
“Still want this?”
“Just do it,” he says through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as they get back to work.
slumped over the bench
fucking passed out.
the process causes them both excruciating pain. the guy doing the tattoo warns him of this, that if he keeps fainting he’s calling it, tattoo done or not. Smith grits his teeth and bears through it. His phone is going off but he can’t answer. too busy digging his nails into his thigh.
That one point of contact hurts so, so badly.
He gets missed texts from Ross about Trott passing out over his desk at the office.
but he doesn’t have my name…how is that possible? Smith thinks. curses himself, for being so fucking selfish, for thinking only about how he feels. he should have fucking told Trott the day it happened- he’s his best friend, he would have understood. they would have figured it out together. instead, he’s fucked Trott up and worried everyone else. what a fucking mess…
the cover up tattoo is a black arrow horizontally across his wrist.
<===<<
the name is covered up.
like it didn’t even happen.

after dnd
“You don’t have to be ashamed of that, you know?” gently talking with Smith, “about being nameless.”
“I’m not.” He pulls away.
Smith feels bad for being bitter. he knows they’re just trying to help, but- but they can’t. they’re not going to understand. he’s doing this for a reason, and Trott’s relationship is as much of a reason as Trott is.
they love each other.
Smith isn’t any part of that, and rightfully so.
that’s not how it is, between him and Trott.

Trott running his hand through his hair. “Smith’s been weird ever since he got broken up with. and that sort of thing is understandable. I just wish he’d talk to me.”
“It’s not going to be easy for him. Both of us have lived all our lives without a name, and overcame everything that went with that.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I know that. Smith does, too. He’s known you since you were in school, and he’s never judged you for it. Maybe you should be the one to talk to him. You know how he gets.”
“Yeah…maybe.”

“Mate…none of this has to change.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Trott shrugs. “Why would it?”
pause
“What do you want out of this, Smith?”
“Out of what?”
“Us.”
Smith chews his lip.
pauses for a moment. “You know, mate…this isn’t actually surprising. Or much of a difference.”
“Really?”
“I sort of thought…maybe you would be, a long, long time ago. You’ve always been chill and comfortable in your own skin, especially around me. But being affectionate isn’t necessarily romantic or sexual or anything.
“You don’t have to act any different, because I think you already acted like my name was on your wrist.”
the knots in his chest loosen. “you might be right.”
“I’m always right.” bumps his shoulder.
Smith smiles.
“And anyway- take it from me- you don’t need to have someone’s name on your wrist to have a relationship with them.”
“Won’t this make it harder?” Smith waves his wrist.
“Well, now that you’ve got an arrow instead of a name, probably not.” “There are more people than you think, Smith, who are like us.”
“I guess if Chris-Fucking-Trott lucks out, I probably will, too.” grin
“Twat.” shove
laugh

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