Another day came and went, and yet nothing happened.
He stopped expecting much when he turned forty, and years had passed since then. He would glare when someone mentioned the subject, maybe roll his eyes depending on the person, but never answer. He had heard enough encouraging speeches and inspirational quotes-the one on his wrist was quite enough in case he needed "reassurance". Valuable time had already been lost over those repetitive and-frankly-pointless talks, there was no need to waste some more.
And so, on that fateful summer night, Aldrich Beilschmidt decided he no longer needed a soulmate. Screw social rules, screw the black words in rushed cursive on his wrist, he could live perfectly well on his own.
It took him exactly 10 years and an announcement from his nephew to change his mind and start looking for love again. Or dying in the process, whatever came first.
"Vati? Hey, what's up? You're too quiet."
"Is something wrong, Vater?"
"Ve...I-I'm sorry..." It was until he heard the last voice that he noticed his silence. The frail-looking man in front of him-boy even?-seemed to be trembling in fear next to his aforementioned nephew.
"Forgive me, I was lost in thoughts. It's a pleasure to meet you, Feliciano. I hope you take good care of Ludwig." Aldrich said politely, stretching out his hand to the young man.
Dinner started soon after, and he was stuck in the head of the table between his nephews, watching as the older one-the loud, narcissistic one-played with his pet chick absently, and almost feeling the younger one blush as his newfound soulmate grabbed his hand.
He stabbed the fettuccini in front of him-made by Feliciano, judging by the fact it wasn't German food-while his thoughts slipped back to the topic of soulmates, stopping him from glancing sideways at the couple again.
It was a known fact that everyone had a soulmate, and society was almost based on the way to find them. Every child was born with a phrase on their wrist in their soulmate's handwriting. That phrase read the first thing their soulmate would say to them, thus they would be able to know when they've found them. But it was also possible not to find them, Aldrich thought. What other explanation was there to his case?
"So! How did you two lovebirds meet?" The older one-Gilbert-asked with a smirk.
Feliciano told the story excitedly. From what he could understand between the young man's fast and happy ranting and the Italian accent he had only just noticed, it seemed he and Ludwig had met about a month and a half back in a market, Ludwig was carrying fruit and Feliciano literally ran into him trying to get to his art lessons in time, and then the young Italian had started ranting in fear of his nephew-and who wouldn't cower in front of the tall, uptight, blank faced German?-, until Ludwig reassured him awkwardly. Aldrich glanced at their wrists, trying to decipher the phrases while Feliciano waved them excitedly, attempting to show Gilbert.
After squinting for a few seconds-maybe he should have bought glasses when Ludwig had suggested-he could see the words. Ludwig's wrist was marked with beautiful cursive, not so different from his own, reading "I surrender" in about three languages and a flurry of apologies-he wondered briefly how they even fit in his nephew's wrist-. Feliciano's, however, was written in perfectly square letters like straight from a typewriter, so like his dear nephew, reading those awkward reassurances exactly as he had imagined. His mind traveled back to his own pending soulmate. What would they think about his handwriting? What would their wrist say? Would they be disappointed?
Dinner ended soon, and after talking to the energetic young man for a while, Aldrich retired to his room. He had raised his nephews as his own children, seen them grow and stood by them through everything, but now one of them had a soulmate. He had spent his whole life looking for the one, giving up and reassuring himself and smiling at those words, promising them he would never lose hope, and now his youngest nephew had found his soulmate before him. He was happy, of course. He was proud, yes. But he was jealous. Ludwig found Feliciano at his twenty three years, how could Aldrich have lived for more than twice his age and never found his?
The thoughts kept flowing from his mind endlessly, only worsening his mood to the point when he couldn't take it. He needed reassurance, and those words wouldn't work this time.
It was time to call Akantha.
"…What?" The youngest woman stared at him with an incredulous look. The quiet, dark-skinned Egyptian woman next to her—closer to Aldrich's age—lifted her glance from her book to frown at the exchange. The last woman, though, didn't stray her glance from a document in front of her.
"I said, I need…advice. In the subject of love." He muttered in embarrassment. The Greek woman, Akantha, couldn't believe her eyes. Her dear Aldrich was finally ready.
"And why would you call all of us? Akantha is the expert." The British one glared, somehow managing to do it elegantly.
"I want to find my soulmate. And I need all of you to help. Alice and Isis too."
And so Aldrich started looking for the one, after years of giving up. Months passed, months of desperately meeting new people, of following Akantha to social events, of speculating and hypothesizing with Isis, of researching with Alice, and yet they found nothing. Every day was an exact replica of the last, of waking up, making breakfast for his nephews and—recently—the energetic Italian young man, of going to the office few minutes away by car and working next to Alice, of meeting Akantha and Isis during lunch break to discuss the dreaded subject, only for lying down in bed at night and realizing he had done nothing that day.
He wanted to give up, desperately. But he couldn't. He had to keep looking.
Or did he?
It was then when a second announcement reached him.
He was deep into work as usual, when a strange text from his older nephew surprised him. The loud albino wanted to meet him outside, immediately. What now? He could only wonder. And why exactly isn't he at school?
He was met with not one hyperactive German as he expected, but with a happy German and a shy-looking young man, with blonde wavy hair and glasses. Had this been a different world, he would have scoffed at the view, with the excuse that a boy as innocent and pure as the one next to his nephew wouldn't have any reasons to hang out with Gilbert.
But this was no such world. Gilbert's words read "I can't believe you noticed me.", and the boy's read "Of course I did, you seem awesome too."
The young boy's name was Matthew, he was soon informed. An easy to miss Canadian, completely opposite to Gilbert.
It was obvious to Aldrich, right then and there, that finding his own soulmate didn't really matter anymore. He was tired of the subject, tired of having to live your life searching and being judged by the fact that you were "alone", tired of waiting. He wanted to be free.
But looking at the newly formed couple in front of him, seeing those expectations in their eyes, seeing all those feelings about to form, he couldn't help but think it over. Could he still find someone?
Or would it all be a waste of time?
"Sir, e-excuse me?" A quiet voice addressed him. He raised his glance to meet the Canadian's eyes.
"Gilbert told me about your…words. Are you still looking?" Aldrich sighed. What was he even doing anymore?
"I would like to to, but I fear it's too late for me. How could I look them in the eye, after giving up on them countess times without even meeting? I couldn't, and I probably won't have to. Whoever is my soulmate must have stopped looking by now." His tone was steady, firm, convinced, but it still held a shard of trust. Trust in someone he only knew through hurried cursive in black lines. Deep down, he didn't believe what he was saying, and his smile, however sad, was a window right into his heart, because he just knew. The city kept buzzing with energy around the three, surrounding them in that erratic peace so characteristic to them. Time kept running regardless of it all, indifferent to his claims.
Everything moved on, everything but a single man behind him. A man he only noticed after the words flowed from his mouth in a deep voice, a world of emotions from happiness to relief to amusement, to love, all hiding behind that playful Italian accent he would one day grow to adore.
"Don't ever lose hope, tesoro."
Oh dear goodness, I'd forgotten how hard editing stuff in FF was XD I noticed a sliiiight mistake over there and totally ignored technology class to correct it. Hopefully I did it correctly!
Anyways, thanks to everyone who favorited, it means so much to me ;w;