i like the concept of soulmates—not a “you’re destined to meet me, and love me” kind of soulmate, but a “i’d pick you, every time.” kind of soulmate. a “no matter what happens, and what has happened, i want to go through it with you.” kind of soulmate. a “i love you by choice, and you’re a blessing, and i’m going to continue thinking about you this way not because i have to but because i want to.” kind of soulmate. a “you help me rest easy when everything is difficult” kind of soulmate. a “in every possible outcome, i want you there, to share it with me.” kind of soulmate.
Icon from a picrew by grgikau. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
“I loved that word: soulmate. We asked Grandma what it meant and she said, “Two people who understand each other without talking about it. Two halves of a whole.”
“Like being married?” I asked.
“No,” Grandma said. “It could be anybody. Father or mother or sister or friend. A teacher or someone you work with. Anybody. Any two people who understand each other so well that one of them can fly blindfolded and the other will stand unafraid on the wing of the plane.””
— Elizabeth Wein, Black Dove, White Raven (via bloggers-heart-books)
Soulmates aren’t rare, they aren’t, you’ll meet a thousand soulmates, just as you’ll live a thousand lives.
North Stars though, they are. By chance you’ll meet someone who encompass the way home. Someone who is home. And knowing them is like being found with never knowing you were lost.
And you will love them. God, you will love them as they are because they are yours. They exist beneath your skin, in your veins, to your bones. They were written in some far off past life.
There is no force that is more than they are.
You are born half in love with them, and to have them, to be theirs, is like nothing else. Nothing would dare to be.
Okay, but that world where you have your soulmate’s name tattooed on you. You never show the name to anyone but yourself and your soulmate, because it’s private, it’s taboo, not even to your best friend.
James and Amy were best friends, had been ever since they had met in the first grade.
They were never apart.
Every time that James peeked at his tattoo, he would smile.
They were 15 when he leaned over, whispering softly in her ear, “I’m so glad that you’re my soulmate.”
The look of surprise in her eyes was not what he expected.
“James… I… I’m so sorry. I don’t have your name.”
All the Amys in the world, and James had never imagined that it wouldn’t be her. He loved her, loved her more than he could admit.
She loved him back, but it wasn’t true love, how could it be.
They drifted apart, he stopped taking her hand as they walked, it was weeks in between times that they saw each other.
It was a month before prom, and they were at the store trying on clothes.
“Amy?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think… could I… would they laugh at me if I wore a dress?”
“If they did, I’d beat them up. I’ll get this lady over here so we can figure out what size you are.”
It was after prom, sitting in the rented limo on their way home.
“Amy?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think… could you… maybe not call me James anymore? That’s not who I want to be anymore.”
“Of course, What do you want me to call you?”
“Jenn.”
Tears ran from Amy’s eyes, smudging her makeup, not that Jenn cared as Amy leaned in for a kiss, their first kiss ever, a kiss that, when it ended, was followed by a whispered statement.
“I’m so glad you’re my soulmate.”