Koi No Yokan (Japanese): The sense upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall into love.
This is different than "love at first sight," since it implies that you might have a sense of imminent love, somewhere down the road, without yet feeling it. The term captures the intimation of inevitable love in the future, rather than the instant attraction implied by love at first sight.
I decided to start another soulmate AU! (I really should finish my other one first, but...) I hope you all like it!
From a very early age, Will Graham knew and understood the idea of soulmates. The heterochromatic eyes that stared back at him when he looked in the mirror or from a large population of children and young adults were a sign that they hadn't met their soulmate. His own father still had his soulmate's eye; the warm, dark green color settled deeply into his left eye- the eye that could lead straight to a person's heart.
Will's soulmate was interesting. He had never seen a color that truly resembled it, the iris a cold maroon in the right light. And just like his empathy worked when he looked in other peoples' eyes, he was deeply aware of his soulmate. At the time, they were lonely, angry, and longing for something. Will liked to stare at the eye in reflective surfaces and pretend that his soulmate was longing to meet him, though the likelihood was slim.
As Will grew, his understanding broadened. He came to realize that the people who had one milky colored eye weren't like him in that their soulmate had a unique eye color, but that their soulmate had died before they could meet. He'd realized that while his father's one green eye slowly drained of color. It was a very real fear for everyone, and it did cause his father to become silent.
Will often feared that the color would fade out his father's other eye as the eye became duller and more vacant. He was reassured that his father was fine, but Will knew. He knew that his father was mourning the loss of his soulmate, that he loved Will dearly, but resented him slightly for preventing him from searching. It didn't weigh to heavily on Will's mind, his existence was a direct correlation with his father, in a sense, disregarding his soulmate.
He was still young though, and his empathy wasn't as developed as it would become in the future, but he could sometimes get glimpses of his soulmate's life. His soulmate, dressed impeccably even in his own house, would sit at a desk surrounding himself with anatomy textbooks – a doctor or training to be one – drawing detailed pictures of towering cities and elegant cathedrals. Rarely, his soulmate would draw an androgynous body with blurred features except for the eyes – one maroon and then Will's own, blue eyes flecked with greens and grays.
His father thought it was amusing that Will could imagine and pretend that was how his soulmate lived, but he didn't stop Will from doing it or telling him about him. Will figured that it was his father's way of trying to connect with his dead soulmate. If he could get inspiration from Will's overactive imagination, maybe he could at least be happy in his dreams.
One day, when Will had reached the tender age of fourteen, he turned to gaze at his soulmate's eye and recoiled in terror. His soulmate was furious, cold fury staring at an imaginary target.
Suddenly, he was there. He stared at a man, shirt sloppy and face unkempt – Will noticed that the stranger had found his soulmate because two terrified blue eyes stared back at Will's soulmate. He has disgraced the world with his presence though. He has done something wrong that needs correcting. He is a pig guised in a poor attempt at a human shield and he should be flayed like one.
The rest of the vision is branded with blood and strategic artistry, a masterpiece of carnage, murder in its purest form. It is the peace and happiness shining through his soulmate's eye that wakes him from his trance. Will gasps and feels tears drip down his hot cheeks. He's not too old that he doesn't want to run to his father, but he instead wraps his arms around himself.
His soulmate is a murderer. He feels joy when he sinks a knife through flesh. He feels he is doing a service to the world, ridding the world of the rude. Will knows he should feel disgusted, that his soulmate is a killer. But he isn't. He's gone too long fearing that his faults will result in his soulmate's rejection, but if he can accept his soulmate's flaws, his own faults should be easy to accept.
It is then he decides to brush aside the fact that his soulmate is a murderer. He doesn't agree with what his soulmate is doing, but he can learn to accept it as a trait, a hobby (even though he hopes that it won't become one).
So later, when his father comes home and asks the inevitable question about what he learned about his soulmate that day, he'll calmly tell him that their eyes light up when they're happy.
By the time Will started lecturing at the FBI Academy, after losing his job as a homicide detective (which he got a good chuckle over when he thought of his soulmate's hobby), he'd grown accustomed to the bouts of rage followed by murder. The happy look he'd see in his soulmate's eye was just too magical to give up. Some of the murders he even thought were beautiful, the way the victim received a fitting end.
While his dreams were often plague with nightmares of things that he simply saw too much of, he had a companion that would guide him out of his terrors and guide him through the woods. A feathered-stag, proud and strong, would nose at his back and walk with him. He figured it was a representation of his soulmate; his soulmate's pride was unrivaled by any and he disguised himself as prey. A lion in sheep's clothing. The stag sometimes brought him to scenes of murders his soulmate had committed, but it was usually just walking.
He enjoyed teaching, it was less stressful than his old job and he wasn't at risk of catching his soulmate. Though it did complicate actually meeting his soulmate, he'd wait. Will should've realized that he couldn't stay away from his old job.
When Jack Crawford asked to "borrow his imagination," Will couldn't refuse, not if he could save lives. Just because his soulmate took lives didn't mean he couldn't save them. It was fitting; one that took lives and one that saved them. Opposites certainly did attract.
The trip to Elise Nichols' house was enlightening. It reminded him vaguely of his soulmate's murders, removing parts to feast on. But there was no real reason for their deaths except that they all resembled each other. It was during this revelation that a new person came to join him and Jack.
The man was well dressed, a three-piece suit perfectly tailored to his figure. The broad shoulders leading to a tapered and trim waist only added to his appeal. His hair was an ashen blonde, perfectly swooped out of his face. Jack welcomed him like an old friend; the other man's name was foreign, but had a nice ring to it: Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Despite all this, Will refused to meet Dr. Lecter's eyes.
Will had made a habit of avoiding eye contact at every possible moment. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet his soulmate, he just feared he'd see too much of another and might forget who he was or who his soulmate was. He'd started taking on the personality of his old partner and only when someone mentioned that they were just alike did he realize what was happening. He refused to have that happen. If anyone wanted to make eye contact with him, they'd have to work for it.
He tunes back into the conversation to hear about Freddie Lounds' atrocious website. He can't help the comment that slips from his lips, but it garners Dr. Lecter's attention.
"Do you have trouble with taste?" Dr. Lecter asked, a hint of mirth caressing his words. Two can play at that game.
"My thoughts are often not tasty," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. This is not his first verbal tennis match and he knows how to keep his wit.
"Nor mine. No effective barriers," Dr. Lecter retorts. His pride won't let him stop until he's won, just like his own.
"I build forts."
It's short and to the point, but it's the truth. Dr. Lecter won't let the conversation die though, not after such a short amount of time.
"Not fond of eye contact, are you?"
It isn't accusatory or disgruntled, merely curious about Will's ever wondering gaze. It is the first time though, that he is asked about his lack of eye contact in such an innocent manner.
"Eyes are distracting; you see too much, you don't see enough. And – and it's hard to focus when you're thinking, um, 'oh, those whites are really white,' or, 'he found his soulmate, or, 'their soulmate died before they could meet.' So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible. Jack?"
His confession is a bit lengthy and perhaps a tad bit too revealing, but he had felt compelled to tell this man. He barely gets to hear Jack's reply before Dr. Lecter is sliding back into the conversation.
"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love."
Will can't stop himself from flinching at the words. It was a deep inset fear of his, that he would become so broken that he wouldn't be able to show his soulmate any love. The dogs helped him keep in-touch with his gentler side, the side that didn't consist of sharp words and cynical humor. "Whose profile are you working on?" Will asked before turning to Jack. "Whose profile is he working on?"
Dr. Lecter seemed to get the picture that he was cornering a wild dog and thankfully backed off. "I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off," Dr. Lecter said trying to placate him.
"Please, don't psychoanalyze me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed."
Dr. Lecter didn't say anything and Will barely made out Jack trying to get his attention before he decided it was best he leave the room before he did something he would regret. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing."
He quickly gathered up his things and stormed out of the room. No eye contact was made, just like he had planned. Maybe one day, when he met his soulmate, he could finally start looking people in the eye, but not today.
Thank you all for reading the first chapter of my new fic! If you have any suggestions on how Hannibal and Will should finally make eye-contact, please let me know :D
*gives you all a plate of cookies and a glass of milk* THANK YOU ALL!