Guys. I am on such a TOG kick right now. I have so many plot bunnies. Please enjoy this nice, angsty, fluffy Soulmate AU. Review if you like - I love reading comments - but be warned that I'm truly awful about responding.
(i have no idea where i'm going with this)
He remembered when the Smear showed up. Sort of.
He was still building his Tall Rocks then, trying to reach the source of the Different. It wasn't tall enough yet, though, so he had to travel further and further into the dark corners of his world to find more rocks. The big ones were so hard to move, but he had realized that if he put big ones on the bottom and smaller ones on top, then his Tall Rocks wouldn't fall down and he could climb higher.
He had been away from the Different for some time, searching, and whenever he was away from the Different, it was much harder to see details. When he got back after finding some nice big rocks and stepped into that strange, beautiful place where everything looked Different, he was surprised to notice a dark smear on his chest.
It was just a smudge on his ribs and side, about the size of his palm. He thought it was dirt at first, or maybe dried stuff from a hurt he hadn't noticed, but it didn't wipe off, and it was too dark, anyway. Darker than anything he had seen before. Maybe a bad hit mark? Like when he fell down or bumped into something, and his skin turned dark from the hit. It didn't hurt when he touched it, though. If it didn't hurt and wouldn't wipe off, there was nothing he could do about it, was there? It became unimportant, and he quickly forgot about it.
Time passes. He builds his Tall Rocks taller, and a miracle drops from the Different. The Smear becomes Important.
When Rachel shows up, he learns that the things around him all have names. After he has accepted the miracle of another creature just like him existing in the world, after he has learned that the noises he can make from his mouth can be used to communicate, after he has learned he can express his thoughts and describe the world around him, he learns that his own name is the Twenty-Fifth Bam.
He learns that the world around him is called a cave. The stone below him is called a floor, and the stones around him are called walls, and the stone above him is called a ceiling, or a roof, and there are other places in the world that do not have these things.
(Bam does not understand this. What exists there, then? Nothing, says Rachel. Bam does not think he likes that).
His Tall Rocks is actually a stack of rocks, or a pile of rocks, but it is so tall it is also called a tower.
(Bam is proud of this. He learns that this is called an accomplishment, or an achievement. He whispers these words and many others to himself, in those cold and quiet times when Rachel is not there, to make sure he does not forget).
His Different spot is called a ray of light, and it comes out of a hole in the ceiling called a circle.
Hit marks are called bruises. The red stuff that comes out of him sometimes and dries on his skin is called blood.
And his Smear is called a Soulmark.
It means that there is another person in the world who matches him perfectly, Rachel says. Bam thinks this must be Rachel herself, but she says no. If it was her, his Smear would have changed color, but instead it stays black.
Bam learns that this is the name of the darkest color. He learns the names of all of them, even the ones he hasn't seen yet, the ones Rachel promises to show him one day. He wonders what color his Smear would become if he ever met his soulmate.
Rachel tells him not to get his hopes up. No one ever gets to meet their soulmate. There are too many people in the world, living too far apart for it ever to happen.
(Bam thinks this is sad).
"Haa~ah," Aguero sighs, collapsing back onto his bed. It was one of those rare occasions that he had been coerced into participating in class, and he got a damn practice spear to the ribs for his effort. He hadn't even been in the fight! That moron from the Muret branch had picked a spear too long to control, and as he rushed his opponent, he overbalanced, drove the spearpoint into the ground, and sent it flailing wildly through the air until the shaft struck Aguero where he'd been doing warm-up stretches the next field over.
(The Muret idiot had been marked down for inexcusable ineptitude. Aguero had been marked down for failing to dodge. He hadn't. He just hadn't felt like staying in class any longer).
He peels up his shirt with a wince. It had smacked him on the hip, right over his soul mark, and a reddish-purple bruise was already swelling beneath and around it. It almost looked like one of those embellishment tattoos people got sometimes.
It was funny, a bit. For a phenomenon with such astronomical chances of ever happening, the tower was uniformly obsessed with soulmates. Innumerable movies and TV dramas about hope and betrayal and lovers fighting against fate and each other. Thousands of blogs and forums where desperate romantics posted pictures of their marks in hopes of their other half catching a glimpse. Celebrations of soulmate birthdays, commemorating the appearance of a mark on a person's skin. Soulmate memorials, mourning a dead stranger on the day a mark faded to the greyed-out scar of a lost chance.
(Aguero was born with his mark. His mother was disappointed, because it meant she couldn't throw a soulmate birthday party for him later on like she had for his sister. Those were great for networking, and for getting nice gifts out of people who secretly hated her. Her pettiness and spite had carried her far in her husband's family).
Even fake soul mark tattoos weren't uncommon. Brilliant bursts of color blooming across the jaw, curling behind ears, wrapping around wrists. Fashionable. Alluring. And superficial. A washed out mimicry of the beautiful truth. Rumor had it that real marks were unmistakable, after all. Far more than just a flat splash of color, those lucky few who had seen a real one had spoken of an indescribable depth and ethereal shine to the color, as though rather than a mark on the skin, it was window peering into the vibrant soul of its bearer and their partner.
(By Khun Family standards, fake soul marks were pretty plebeian. If you're going to fake something, it should at least be indistinguishable from the real thing).
Embellishment tattoos were fair game, however, and were even almost as popular as earrings in his family. Patterned outlines against the matte black of unrealized soul marks had been in vogue a few decades ago, but now watercolor backgrounds were all the rage.
That's what Aguero's looks like right now. A bloom of red-purple-blue fanning out from the edges of his black mark. It looks pretty good that way, actually. Aguero likes the shape of his mark - like an asymmetric splash of ink across his hip - and he thinks a little color could make it pretty sexy. But, it wasn't like he was planning on going around with his hip bared to the world, so there wasn't much point. Maybe someday, when he had someone to impress.
Not his soulmate, of course. That was impossible.
As far as popular history in the tower was aware, maybe one in a billion people were lucky enough to meet their soul mate. Restrictions on travel between floors, oppressive political situations, and the violence and betrayal inherent to the tower prevented such meetings of fate.
So Aguero knows as much about soulmates as the next person. He knows they are basically a fairy tale, and even if they ever meet, as far as Aguero is concerned, the danger of having such a person in his life outweighed whatever benefit could come from it. In the best case scenario, his soulmate would be a weakness he couldn't afford, a precious jewel he couldn't possibly hide away.
In the worst case, his soulmate would be an enemy, looking to use their connection against him. Just because God or destiny or simple biology thought they suited each other, didn't mean their personal circumstances would be aligned. After all, the most famous soulmates in history despise each other. Po Bidau Gustang and Eurasia Blossom had a famously contentious relationship, and after their first — and last — joining to bring a child into the world, they had pulled away from each other with such ferocity that their families were banned from marrying.
Aguero sighs again and tucks his shirt back in to his pants. A glance out his bedroom window tells him it would be dinner time soon, and Mother would be expecting a report on his classmates then. It wouldn't do to disappoint her.
Years pass. Aguero fucks up his life and saves it in the same stroke. He gets an invitation he can't refuse.
(He goes by Khun, now).
When he'd broken into his father's treasure room, Khun had had his pick of the most precious jewels in the tower. The most powerful weapons, the sturdiest armor. Exotic shinheuh, compliant and ready to be used.
He left with a bag.
Oh, he hadn't been able to resist a few other little oddities as well, but the real steal was Manbarondenna, because he was losing his home soon and he needed to keep his belongings on him at all times. Headon would be visiting him soon, after all. Khun knew he was exceptional; it was just a matter of time before the Fairy of the Tower noticed it too.
When Khun is deposited into the golden fields of the Floor of Test, he has all his worldly possessions easily in hand.
(He is not the only regular to claim this achievement. It is fairly common, in fact. After all, so many regulars can only claim to own the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands).
The point is, Khun has an extremely valuable bag packed full of extremely valuable items, and it is a pittance compared to the singular possession of the soft, vulnerable regular sitting beside him as they hide from a gigantic talking alligator, of all things.
"You… Where did you get that?" Khun breathes. The Black March. All of his planning could not have prepared him to make such a find within the first twenty minutes of climbing the tower.
…Part of him wants it for himself. The greedy, grasping creature wearing Khun's skin as a gossamer suit wants to take it and covet it and hide it away from the world.
A larger part of him wants more, wants to learn every facet of the defenseless dark-haired boy who holds it. He leans into this side of himself, and ducks in close to the increasingly alarmed boy.
Khun grabs his hand to keep him from moving away, utterly intent on the rare treasure laid out before him. Not quite so intent, however, that he fails to notice the sudden burning pain in his hip.
Khun lurches back with a hiss and grabs his waist. He glances around wildly; they might have been well hidden, but this is still a battlefield, after all. Has he been shot or something?
"Did that hit you too?" Khun asks sharply, seeing that the boy had slapped a hand to his ribs at the same time as Khun had felt that throbbing burn in his hip. "Did you see what it was?"
"No, I- no. I just felt it on my chest…" the dark haired boy pulls at the collar of his shirt to glance down at his chest, and freezes. His face falls slack. "My mark…"
Khun's mind goes blank. "Your soul mark?"
"Uh-huh."
"It's there, on your chest?"
"Un."
"And it hurt just now?"
"Yeah."
Khun swallows tightly. "…Is it- different, now?" His voice comes out hushed and hoarse. The boy across from him nods slowly, shallowly. He has not yet looked up from peering down his shirt.
"…Mine hurt too. Just now. When I… touched you…"
They stare blankly at one another. "Would you like to see?" The boy whispers.
Khun nods, almost imperceptibly. The boy swallows audibly, then lifts the hem of his shirt up to reveal his ribs, where a familiar array of small splotches and strokes stretches across the disturbingly prominent bones and curls around his to brush his back. That pattern- it is indisputable. Flawlessly identical. And it is exceptionally beautiful.
Sprays of goldenrod and cornflower blue arc across each other, utterly radiant. And the rumors are true. It looks deep, somehow, like those vibrant colors are seeping straight through flesh and bone to bare the very core of him to the world.
"Is it..?" The boy whispers hoarsely. In response, Khun jerks his hands to his belt, fingers fumbling over the buckle as he scrambles to leverage his waistband down over his hipbone. The boy watches raptly with no sign of embarrassment and then gasps as Khun finally tugs his clothes aside enough to show his matching mark, gold and blue and glowing with life.
His soulmate stares, enraptured. Seemingly mindlessly, his fingers stretch out to graze the mark. Khun flinches back at the sudden touch, but the boy follows him, smoothing his hand flat over the curve of Khun's hip to frame his soul mark. Khun shivers at the touch, and then again at the sight; it is entrancing, to see his soulmate's hand curled around the fully realized evidence of their connection. A thumb presses harder against Khun's hipbone and okay! That's enough of that. They're in the middle of a test. He grasps the boy's wrist to pull the hand away.
His soulmate complies with some reluctance, slowly drawing his hand back to himself. He glances up and catches Khun's eye, and finally seems to return to his senses; he jerks upright and flushes red, coughing uncomfortably into his fist.
"S-sorry… that was, uh, not polite of me."
"It's fine," Khun mumbles, straightening his clothes. He takes a bolstering breath, then holds out his hand. "I'm Khun. Aguero. Khun Aguero Agnes."
"I'm the Twenty-Fifth Bam. Please just call me Bam. It's nice to meet you."
"Bam…" Khun murmurs. "I can't believe-"
"Are you really-"
They speak at the same time. Stop at the same time. Stare again. Khun's lips twitch up into a wry smile. Bam matches him with a slow dawning grin that grows into a burst of bright, joyous laughter. It's as though the sun had risen twice. Khun watches in awe, feels it blooming in his gut. This boy is his.
"I can't believe I met you. I can't believe you're here," he says, breathless with laughter.
"This kind of crazy situation…it's just unreal. It's like a fairy tale," Khun chuckles, before his countenance turns serious.
"But we shouldn't tell anyone. This kind of thing, if people knew about it, they could use it against us." Bam looks at him blankly.
"What do you mean? Why would someone…"
"It just- isn't safe, Bam. If we have something someone wants, or if either of us is an obstacle to someone, and if they knew about us…They could use us against each other. This tower is a desperate place, full of ruthless and cruel people."
(Khun would know. He is one of them).
And there are rumors, too, about the value of soulmates in the deepest, darkest depths of the tower, its black markets and its trafficking cartels. He'd only heard them after he'd been expelled from his family. Rumors that matched soulmates were maybe not quite as rare as everyone seemed to think. Rumors that the unspeakable beauty of fully realized soul marks made them - and their bearers - extremely valuable to the right buyer. Now that he has seen them for himself, Khun can understand the allure. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his life. And, he thinks with smug giddiness, it is his.
He just, you know. Couldn't ever let anyone see it, lest he be snatched up and sold to some perverted collector or bored, ancient warlord sitting fat and lazy half-way up the tower.
Meanwhile, Bam is quiet, his gaze turned down to his hands. His knuckles clench white where they grasp the fabric of his pants.
"That seems very sad to me, Mr. Khun." Khun shrugs.
"That's the reality, unfortunately. And it's especially true of us. I have some…valuable items with me. And you do too."
He looks pointedly at the Black March, tucked close to Bam's thigh. Bam follows his gaze.
"Ah, that's…" Bam bites his lip, appearing indecisive. Khun waits expectantly, but when Bam's hesitance becomes clear, he sighs.
"Ah, I get it. You don't have to tell me." He tries not to let his disappointment show.
"No!" Bam blurts out. "That's not- I was told not to tell anyone, but you are not just 'anyone,' right?" Bam smiles tentatively at him. "So. That weapon was loaned to me when I entered the tower to help me pass Headon's test. A woman named Yuri let me use it, but I need to return it to her."
"Yuri," Khun says dryly. With growing incredulity, "Yuri? Ha Yuri Zahard? Zahard's Princess Yuri?!"
Bam shrugs sheepishly. Khun sighs mightily, dropping his face into his hand. "Okay, fine. We can deal with this. We can deal with Yuri Zahard giving you the Black March to… help…" He looks up.
"…"
"Bam?"
"Yes, Mr. Khun?"
"Why did Headon give you a test?"
"Ah. He called me something like an Irregular."
no one:
no one at all:
khun: soulmates are DANGEROUS and POINTLESS
also khun: i met him .257 seconds ago and i will die for him