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They were not soulmates.
The red string attached to their pinkies clearly states that.
Arthur's didn't end with Alfred, and Alfred's didn't end with Arthur.
It's as simple as that.
Despite the fact that they're meant to be for other people, they're currently in the third year of their relationship. It wasn't an easy journey, but it wasn't too hard to the point of ending things between the two of them. It's just as most relationships are.
They weren't a special case either. Ironically, in a world where you are only destined for a specific person, it isn't uncommon to be in relationships with people besides your soulmate. If one was to ask anybody, they'd tell you that soulmates are just something superficial, that you don't need to look for ‘the one’ just to experience life changing love in this world. Love comes in many forms after all, and the love you get from your soulmate is just another type of it.
But there are things that cannot be ignored, such as how different the chances are between those who are and who aren't together with their soulmate. Several instances have proven that those in relationships where they are tied by the bright red string tend to have more successful odds in maintaining a long term relationship, compared to those who aren't fated together.
Alfred and Arthur are determined to prove those statistics wrong.
It's not like they're the first to defy their destiny, nor will they be the last. Plenty of people have done that, plenty have been successful and plenty have crashed and burned in the end in a rollercoaster of pain and regret. They just have to deal with the gnawing guilt of depriving their soulmates of their other half, the existential dread of ‘will things work out?’, on top of the usual ups and downs of a serious relationship. They've been doing this for three years at this point, they just have to keep at it for as long as they can, preferably until they're buried together in some graveyard next to each other.
But then again, there's just some things that cannot be ignored.
“I saw him today.”
The sudden statement from Arthur snapped Alfred's attention away from the variety show he was watching. They were sitting together in the small living room of the apartment they shared, a nightly routine for the couple. Arthur would usually be reading or embroidering something, while Alfred would be channel surfing, or using whatever was on TV as background noise while he scrolled through his social media feed.
Alfred blinked, then he prompted, “Who?”
He noticed his lover fidget with his pinky finger, as if the string tied to the finger itches. The act alone clued the American as to who he was referring to.
“Oh.” Alfred felt a strange lump form in his throat, “Where did you see him?” Arthur looked like he wanted to drop the topic, but knew that since he brought it up, he had to answer. “The bakery on 3rd avenue. I had to take a detour after work, since my usual route was interrupted by an accident.”
Alfred could recall hearing something on the news about an accident earlier. “Did you get a good look at him?”
The Englishman shrugged, “I only got a brief glimpse. Blonde hair, shoulder length, had a stubble and a smart fashion sense. He looked like a tourist, or a newcomer actually, maybe that's why I've never seen him in that bakery before.” all the while, Arthur continued to embroider the handkerchief in his hands.
Alfred didn't know what to do with that information. He knew that the day when they encounter their respective soulmates would come eventually, but he never really thought about how his feelings would be like when it happens. He rolled his thumb across the buttons of the remote control in his hands, eventually pressing the mute button. The variety show played on in silence.
“Do you…want to meet him?” the American asked slowly. The pause between his question and the other man's answer felt like an eternity.
Arthur laid his embroidery on his lap and pinned the needle onto the pin cushion on top of the sofa's arm. He sucked in a breath, “Would you believe me if I told you that I don't?”
“...”
“Alfred?”
“I'm…not sure.”
A sad look flashed on the older man's face, it didn't stay for long enough for Alfred to verbally acknowledge it.
“I see.”
The silence between them grew thicker the more they let it sit. They've already talked about this before, and they've mutually agreed that if the other party wishes to meet their soulmate, then the other one will willingly let them; should one of them decide to be with their soulmate…well, the story writes itself.
“I won't stop you, y'know that right?” Alfred said.
“Yeah.”
“So, I hope you don't feel like I'm trapping you or anything.”
Arthur's eyebrows scrunched up, “I don't feel trapped at all, Alfred. Is…is that how you think I feel about all of this?”
Ah, he knew he'd eventually screw up his words during a serious conversation. Alfred tend to say the wrong things at the wrong times to his boyfriend, it was really a wonder how they managed to last this long. Maybe because the both of them were stubborn mules determined to make it work.
Arthur's soulmate would probably say the right words everytime.
The thought felt like salt in an open wound.
“No, no. I just meant–” he ran a hand across his hair– “I just meant that I didn't want you to feel like you didn't have to meet your soulmate because of me.” he shifted himself so that he was facing the other man. “You know that I'll go with whatever you decide, right? No strings attached.”
Arthur almost chuckled at the unintended pun. He looked at his lover, gazing directly into irises that rivaled the color of the summer sky. “Alfred.” a hand over the younger's knuckles, “I'm certain. I don't want to meet him.” he tried for a smile to assure the other man, but it fell short of his eyes. “I love what I have right now, and I'd never trade it for something as simple as a stupid string tied to my finger.”
Alfred flexed his hand under Arthur's, forming a fist, then inserting his fingers between the gaps of the other's hand. “But what if…what if he tries to look for you? What if he finds you? What will you do?”
“Love, you already know. I told you the last time we talked about ‘this’.” The Englishman scooted closer in the sofa, he took Alfred's other hand into his. “I'll tell him the instance we meet, that I'm happy with my life right now, and that I'm sorry for not being able to fill in the role of his soulmate.” He caressed Alfred's hands, “And if he ends up being the persistent type, that's when my hero comes in.” he smiled at the younger man.
Alfred couldn't help himself but grin, he always liked it whenever his lover called him his hero. “You’re right, babe.” he momentarily removed his hands from the other's hold to mock a few punches in the air, “I'll give ‘em a piece of my mind if he doesn't leave you alone after your first rejection.” his hands landed back on Arthur's, rubbing his fingers over the man's knuckles and intertwining them once more. “And if…and if my soulmate pops outta nowhere,” he reached out and held Arthur's cheek, “you know what I'll do.”
Arthur sighed, a half hearted smile gracing his lips. “You never know.”
That tugged a sad string at the American’s heart, “Do you doubt me, sweetheart?”
“Oh, love, no. Never.” Arthur held the hand on his cheek. “I've only been…thinking that whoever is fated for you, must be more deserving of you than me.”
Alfred never liked to talk about their soulmates, because they only ended up on a depressing note no matter where they steered the conversation. “Arthur.”
“It's stupid, it's stupid.” the older man laughed dryly, “I know it's stupid but…it keeps bugging me.” he took in a shallow breath, “Alfred, were we a mistake?”
A beat.
“I think…we might be.” the young man admitted, and the look of hurt that settled in the Englishman's eyes broke his pained heart. They've had this kind of conversation a million times already, yet it never failed to make Alfred miserable. Them being together wasn't wrong, but it didn't feel right either. Their relationship was a stubborn bit of food stuck in between the gaps of teeth, it wasn't really hurting anyone, but it didn't feel comfortable. It didn't remove the possibility of becoming the cause of a cavity should it stay stuck for longer.
Arthur was about to say something, but Alfred continued, “And it's a mistake I'll repeat over and over, to the end of time and through every universe. Because Arthur,” he tightened his grip on his lover's hands, “You're a decision that I'll never, ever regret making. You're worth more than destiny to me.”
Unshed tears accentuated Arthur's chartreuse eyes. Wordlessly, the man leapt into the American's chest and hugged him tightly. The young man returned the hug, burying his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck, the scent of skin and fabric softener filling his nostrils as he whispered sweet nothings. He could feel Arthur choke on a sob, “You bastard.” he cried, “You impossible, beautiful bastard.” His tears and snot stained the younger man's shoulder.
Alfred let out a weak laugh, he could feel his own tears run down his cheeks as well. He pulled away from the embrace, took off his glasses, and began to pepper the other man's face with chaste kisses, pecking away the tears of his lover until Arthur was giggling for him to stop. Alfred gave one last kiss to the corner of Arthur's lips, then he gazed at him, foreheads touching. “I didn't mean to make you cry. I guess I've never been a poet, huh?”
The older man gave him a light smack on his arm, “Absolutely not. You scared me, you dolt.”
“I'm sorry.” Alfred pecked his lips in apology, “I'm an idiot.”
“You are,” Arthur agreed, “but you're mine.”
They moved themselves so that they're lying on the couch, Arthur resting on top of Alfred. The variety show and embroidery long forgotten as they cuddled on the sofa. What now? both wondered. Arthur's soulmate is somewhere out there in the city, there's no guarantee that the Englishman won't encounter his fated partner again, and both are unsure as to what the future has in store for them.
But sometimes, there are things more important than what would happen next. Like the colors of a muted TV show, a second hand sofa, and the heartbeat of the person you treasure the most against your own.
“Can I tell you something, Arthur?” Alfred mumbled against his hair. The older blonde hummed, urging him to spell out his thoughts. “I sometimes wish that we were soulmates. I sometimes wish that this string here ended with you instead of someone else.”
“Hmm.” Arthur lifted his head to look up at the younger man, “You know, I think of that sometimes too. Maybe destiny tied the wrong ends of the string on our fingers. Maybe fate just made a mistake and we're actually meant for each other.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe. But I'm certain of one thing,” Arthur said, “That despite whatever mistake fate or destiny might've made, I'm certain that my heart will only yearn for you, and no one else.”
Alfred's chest tightened. God, he loved this man. “Fuck, Art. You're making me blush.” he jested, earning a laugh from the other man. His eyes landed on the tin biscuit container that Arthur repurposed to be his sewing kit, an idea popped into existence.
“Do you want to?” The American asked.
“Want to what?” the other raised an eyebrow.
Alfred motioned for them to sit up, “To be soulmates.”
“Haven't we established that that is impossible?”
“We have. But for you, impossible ain't shit.”
“How eloquent.” Arthur scoffed playfully.
“Close your eyes.”
The older man quirked an eyebrow at that, but relented.
“No peeking!”
Arthur placed his hands over his eyelids. He could hear scuffling and short footsteps, a snip of a scissor, and Alfred sitting down on the floor by his feet. “Alfred, what are you-”
“Ah, ah, ah! Keep ‘em closed, Artie.” Arthur kept his eyes closed, now more curious as to what the hell his lover was up to. After a few seconds of silence, Arthur felt the younger man guide his hand to rest on his lap. He covered his eyelids with his other hand. He felt a slight sensation around his pinky finger, then, “Okay. Open your eyes.” Alfred murmured.
The first thing Arthur saw was his boyfriend's beaming face, then he looked down on his lap and saw what Alfred had done with his hand.
A bright red embroidery thread was knotted on his finger, the other end tied to Alfred's own pinky.
“Ta-da!” Alfred exclaimed, but his voice was quiet, as if this was a celebration between the two of them only–and in a way, it was. Arthur stared at the thread around his finger. Apart from the color, it looked nothing like the Red String of Fate. It didn't float around magically, or glow ethereally. It was simply a red string tied to his finger, but it felt more magical than the actual string of fate that he had.
It felt more magical because at the end of this string was Alfred. Wonderful, brilliant Alfred.
“Oh, Alfred.” he could feel his throat tighten as his tears dripped down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes, but his tears were relentless, until he was fully sobbing at the sentimentality. He knelt down and joined the younger blonde on the floor, knocking him over so that they were lying down on the carpet. Strong arms wrapped around the older man, rubbing his back to comfort him. “Man, it seems like all I ever do is make you cry.” Alfred tried to joke, but his heart was so full of adoration to the point that he was crying too.
“I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you so much!” The Englishman showered his lover's face with kisses, he was now a sobbing, laughing mess. Alfred laughed, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist and rolled them over to their side.
They were on the floor, Alfred spooning Arthur, crying and laughing like lunatics because of an embroidery thread tied on their fingers. It was absurd. It was stupid. It was perfect.
Their laughter and tears subsided, but their smiles stayed and their loving gazes were never more permanent. Arthur rolled around so that he was now facing his lover. Alfred reached out and wiped his tear stains. “I love you too.” he whispered, leaning in and capturing Arthur's soft lips.
They were not soulmates.
The red string attached to their pinkies clearly states that.
Arthur's didn't end with Alfred, and Alfred's didn't end with Arthur.
It's as simple as that.
But sometimes, they wondered if they believed hard enough, just maybe…
Maybe they were.