Whatever your soulmate may write on their arm, will appear on yours, with only one rule. You are not allowed to directly communicate through this method in order to find each other. However, nothing was ever said about using someone else's arm as a way of communication to someone you've never met. On a drunken night with his friend passed out in front of him, Alfred decides to see if he can talk to Gilbert's soulmate. He soon learns of "Matthew," the boy on the other end, and the two kick off right away. When the tree of them finally meet however, Alfred realizes how stupid he's been. Matthew was always Gilbert's soulmate, never his. (Focuses on One sided Amecan, with slight Prucan)


Howdy everyone! I've decided to actually write a multi-chapter fic for once. Granted, it'll be quite short, I'm still pretty proud of it. For now, I'm expecting around 3 chapters, but that may change. This was also written for the Caesar's Palace Soulmate AU contest, and inspiration for this fic came from this tumblr post: kpopboysarebetter .tumblr post/ 142756530279/ so-considering-im-pretty-well-bedridden-today-and

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the Characters featured in the work.

Anyways, please review, favourite and follow if you want, and as always, enjoy!


Alfred, though young, was quite able to tell when he had drank enough. Of course, he didn't always stop afterwards, but he was well aware of his own limitations.

It appeared however, that Gilbert was not.

Frankly, this surprised the American. Out of the two of them, it was Gilbert who would usually last the longest. Hell, Alfred would wake up with a pounding headache, no memory of the night before, and the albino would still have a mug to his lips. Alfred wouldn't be surprised if Gilbert had the highest alcohol tolerance in the world. This is why he was so surprised to see the German passed out on his kitchen table.

His friends face was pressed up against the cool stone, snow-white hair falling limply around his ears. His mug lay just to the side, half full, as if Gilbert had barely been able to move it out of the way before collapsing, his slender fingers still wrapped around the handle. His other arm lay outstretched with his wrist facing upwards. Soft sighs would leave his lips every once in a while.

Alfred let his gaze linger over his friend for another moment before leaning back. A smile graced his lips as he brought his mug upwards, relishing in the fact that he had finally been able to outlast the German. However his little "victory party" was cut short as he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes.

Black little swirls were beginning to form on Gilbert's left wrist, gliding smoothly over his skin as the German slept, completely oblivious to the forming shapes. For a moment, Alfred's mind went almost completely blank, focusing on one plausible cause for these shapes.

Ghosts.

Almost dropping the mug, he scrambled away from his chair. Frantically, he pushed himself against the wall, an attempt to hide himself from the spirit. His breaths came in heavy ragged gasps, crystal blue eyes wide in fear. However, the little black swirls continued to form, oblivious to his outburst.

Curiosity outweighing uncertainty, Alfred crept forwards, placing his mug on the table so as not to drop it. Gentle fingers reached out and wrapped themselves around the German's wrist, bringing it closer to examine. The swirls continued to form, and Alfred's jaw dropped open when he finally realized why.

Somewhere in this world, perhaps in a different state or even a different country, someone else was drawing little swirls on their wrist. And because of the unbreakable bond between this stranger and Alfred's passed out friend, the little swirls would appear on Gilbert's wrist as well.

Alfred could always remember the stories read in elementary. If you ever wrote something on your arm, the exact same would appear on that of your soulmate's. No one knew why, for science couldn't explain it. If the one you were destined to be with drew a pen across their skin, you would be able to see it too.

With what was left working in Alfred's mostly drunk mind, he determined that there were in fact no ghosts in his house, but the swirls were due to Gilbert's soulmate. The young man contemplated whether or not to wake his friend, but in the end decided against it. Gilbert slept like a log. It would be almost impossible to wake him even for a moment. So instead, he just watched.

After a few minutes however, Alfred felt the familiar weight of utter boredom fall upon him. Would it kill Gilbert's soulmate to draw something other than swirls for once? It was getting quite repetitive. As if by just thinking it, his prayers were answered. A pen lay on the kitchen counter, and an idea popped into Alfred's mind. A stupid one, yes, but the drunk young man could not care less.

And so, he reached out and grabbed the pen.

"Hey!"

His words were quite messy, scribbled quickly on his friend's wrist. Like he had expected, the swirls stopped suddenly, as if someone had lifted away their pen when they were only half finished. However, after a few minutes, no response came. Narrowing his eyes, Alfred tried again.

"Hello?"

He waited, sure that words would soon shimmer to life on his friends arm. However, they did not, leaving the American slightly confused, and well as angry. As a last resort attempt, he began to write.

"I know that you're there! Answer me!"

As expected, no words formed afterwards, leaving the American confused. Frowning, he dropped the pen, allowing it to fall on the table with a small clunk. Reaching over, he wrapped his fingers around his mug once more, bringing it to his lips .The rest of the frothy liquid disappeared as he gulped down what was left. Soon after, he stood, making way to the fridge in search of more. However, something stopped him.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

The words appeared on his friend's forearm almost suddenly, slightly shocking Alfred. Containing himself, he placed his mug back on the table, and grabbed friend's wrist. Alfred scanned over the writing, slightly squinting through his black frames in order to read the small yet neat cursive writing which had appeared. However, once he did, confusion fell upon him.

"What do you mean?"

Alfred scribbled the words haphazardly. Thankfully, he only waited a moment before the reply shimmered to life in front of his eyes.

"It's bad luck to talk to your soulmate before you meet them."

Realization swept through him, and Alfred couldn't help but laugh. Of course! It was always said to never speak to your soulmate through this strange connection. It wasn't a hard rule or anything, but largely believed upon. If you tried to get in contact with your soulmate before fate decided to bring you together, bad luck would soon befall you. The other person obviously thought Alfred was his soulmate, and with good reason too. It was Gilbert's arm for goodness sake! Inwardly he punched himself for not realizing it earlier, but a wide smile still lay across his lips.

"Oh god, I'm sorry! I probably gave you a heart attack there. I however, am sadly not your soulmate. Your actual soulmate is currently passed out on my kitchen table, his dick of a friend deciding it would be a great idea to write on his arm."

Still smiling, Alfred drew back, awaiting the response.

"Oh thank God."

The words soon appeared, and Alfred felt his smile grow even wider. Quickly, he wrote his reply.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Anyways, what's your name? I'm Alfred!"

"Matthew."

"Matthew? That sounds nice. Why exactly were you scribbling little swirls on my friend's arm?"

The response took a bit longer, but soon the words shimmered to life.

"Bored I guess."

Alfred raised his eyebrow slightly, but said nothing.

"Okay. Hey, I was wondering if-"

Alfred jumped, his final letter left trailing across Gilbert's arm. Speaking of the German, he had begun to stir, mumbling incoherent words as his eyelids began to flutter open. Realizing that he only had a few seconds to act, Alfred grabbed his friends arm tightly, earning a sound that may have been confusion from his friend.

"Gil, just go back to sleep 'K? It's late, and you're drunk. You need the rest."

Thankfully, the albino seemed to understand. Either that, or he had simply passed out again. Alfred was betting on the second. Releasing his friend's forearm, he realized Matthew had written to him.

"Alfred? You okay?"

Smiling, Alfred quickly wrote out his reply.

"All good dude! Gil just woke up for a moment, so I had to get him back to sleep. Speaking of which, I should be heading to bed shortly as well."

He didn't realize what he had said until the reply shimmered to life.

"Gil? Him? You know, I was hoping to have somewhat of a surprise when I met my soulmate."

"Shit…"

"It's fine. Anyway, you said you needed to sleep?"

"Yup."

"Well, Goodnight then."

"Night dude!"

With that, the pen was placed on the counter. A wide smile still lay upon Alfred's lips (perhaps because of the alcohol, or because of something more, he could not tell). His eyes turned over to where his friend was once again unconscious, and a smirk formed. He now had knowledge that Gilbert did not, and he expected to keep it that way.

Speaking of which….

How the hell was he supposed to wash the pen off his arm?


Allrighty! I expect the next update to be out at around Wednesday, so look forwards to that.

Hope to see you at the next update!