idia/riddle soulmate au
The words on your wrist are supposed to be the first thing your soulmate says to you, something that describes how they feel about you in that moment. Some people, especially kids, mix it up with the idea that it’s the very first words exchanged in general. But that isn’t true. If it were, the world would be full of people permanently branded with a bland 'hello.'
Sometimes Idia thinks maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. A plain, harmless greeting. He could’ve lived with that. It would’ve been better than what he ended up with.
He remembers the day his words appeared as if it were yesterday. He had just turned eight. Back then, he was still capable of looking forward to things, soulmates included. He and Ortho used to talk about it all the time. What their words might be. How it would feel when they heard them for the first time. Lonely kids cling to dreams like that, and Idia had clung harder than anyone.
That morning he woke up, rolled onto his side, and looked at his wrist. His breath had caught in his throat. The letters stood out as if they’d been burned into his skin, sharp and impossible to misread:
You are the most irritating person I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.
His chest tightened, and his small fingers trembled as he traced the words over and over, as if they might change, as if he could rub them out and start again. But they never changed.
He’d heard of it, of course. Rejected soulmates. One-sided bonds. Rare, but not impossible. The kind of fate you wouldn’t wish on anyone. But here it was, etched into him.
Everyone tried to soften the blow. His mother crouched beside him, her hands gentle on his shoulders, telling him maybe it was a misunderstanding. That meaning could change with context. The Styx staff each shared their wrists, some showing off phrases that, on their own, looked strange or confusing but later became treasured memories once the full story was revealed. And Ortho, bright-eyed and earnest, had hugged him and said that Idia was amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have him as their soulmate.
Idia had tried to let those words soothe him. He even smiled a little, for Ortho’s sake. But that night, lying in bed, he couldn’t stop staring at the cruel sentence stamped into his skin. His chest ached until he thought it might split open.
Two years later, words appeared on Ortho’s skin: Your smile gives me strength. Everyone had been overjoyed. Ortho had lit up with a kind of happiness that Idia had never seen before, chattering about what kind of person might say such a thing. Idia had forced himself to smile too, to choke out congratulations, even as his nails dug crescents into his own marked skin. Ortho deserved it. Ortho deserved love, happiness, everything.
But only two days later, Ortho was gone.
He would never meet his soulmate, never hear those words spoken to him with love. That chance had been stolen from him. And Idia knew that it was his fault.
Now the words on Idia’s wrist make perfect sense. Of course his soulmate would hate him. Of course he was destined for rejection. He is weak, someone who couldn't even protect his little brother. A coward who can’t face the world without breaking apart. Someone no one would ever want.
He was meant to be alone. He believes this more with every passing day. And yet, he isn’t prepared to actually hear the words.
It starts with Riddle Rosehearts pounding at his door, his clipped voice carrying down the hall as he demands Idia come to the housewarden meeting. Idia, annoyed, tries to get him to leave.
And then Riddle says the words Idia has dreaded all his life.
“You are the most irritating person I’ve had the misfortune of meeting!”
And Idia's wrist burns.
