You Have a Pretty (Gay) Soul [Ch. One]
Ryan received his Soul Markings after a first week in his sophomore year of high school, and it didnât help his studies when all he could think about was that his for forever mate, his other half, his soul mate, was in the same building as he was, or at least, he hoped.
At first it was so intriguing to look at the silvery crescent shape on the back of his hand but after awhile, he started hiding it with a pair of fingerless gloves, acutely becoming aware of how personal and intimate the mark would become to mean to him. He couldnât comprehend the idea of how the girls in his class could flaunt their marks to their classmates in such an obvious pride.
When Ryan first got his mark he ran straight to his mother who took his hand and looked down at it with a smile. He was scared she wouldnât be accepting because 13 was still a young age to get the markings. There were many seniors without them, and even some of his fatherâs work friends didnât even have them. The thought scared Ryan at first - knowing that there wouldnât be someone who could make you happy in only the way that one special person could. Itâs not like two unmarked people couldnât go out or get married, it was just.. refreshing to know that there was someone out there who was specifically meant for him.
It wasnât until the next morning he noticed the mark on his hand because the burning was so intense that his mother let him stay home and keep a wet washcloth on it. But now⊠He wish he never received it in the first place. Not only did the Receiving hurt his hand for the next few days (there was still a numb stinging sensation on his hand at times), but he was constantly regretting everything he did. What if they didnât like his personality, or the way he dressed, or how he ate his food, or worse, what if they didnât like his blond hair? What if him and his match donât get along at all?
It takes him a long time to start paying attention in class and by the time he started working on his notes, the bell for lunch sounded throughout the school building.
â
It should be easier than this. Why canât it be easier?
Ryan spent the rest of his lunch period scanning the cafeteria, looking over people he thinks heâs made contact with in the past two weeks. The only person he knows that has a mark is Philip Evans, Emily Heller, and Ashley Chang.
Ashley was a Korean-American exchang student in her freshmen year. After she heard word of Ryanâs Recieving, she immediately approached the blond and stared asking about it. Ryan wasnât at all embarrased to tell her, though, because she had recently got hers, and she was probably just making sure that they werenât matched. Actually, he knew instantly that it wasnât her. Itâs not that he didnât think she was crazy hot (because she was), it was the fact that his friend Emily came to talk to him, and he found that fate had paired the two girls together.
Philip, though, was a freshmen that year too, but they never really talked. The boy just started having a panic attack during the middle of lunch one day, and they had to rush him to the nurse. Rumor spread that he was in the middle of his Receiving and was sent home for the rest of the day and the next.
Ryan was still waiting impatiently, glancing around the cafeteria to find his perfect girl. It was only wishful thinking, but Ryan really wanted her to look pretty, or have some nice traits about her but he was too nervous to outright talk about his Mark. It wasnât uncommon for someone to get made fun of because of the sign that they were given. He stayed there, tapping his foot until the bell rang for the forty minute lunch to be over and he got up and rushed out of the room, speed walking past the menâs restrooms. A gasp came from within and Ryan stopped for a second, forcing himself to believe it was just two jocks messing around and writing and pissing on the stalls (what the hell is wrong with high school?).
He knows he should have stayed out of it, but once he stuck his head into the restroom, he was right. It was a jock messing around a bit too much and forcing some kidâs head in the toilet and yelling homophobic slurs at him while the kid struggled. The bunched up brown leather jacket under the sink told him all it needed to and Ryan rushed over, grabbing the back of the older kidâs jersey and slamming him into the hall.
âWhat the fuck are you doinâ yo-â
The jock might as well bit his tongue then, because next thing Ryan knew, he was popping him in the mouth and pounced on the taller boy, giving and recieving hits (hopefully giving more, but it was hard to tell). Ryan somehow ended up pinning him to the ground while he straddled his chest, gripping the front end of his collar. He admired the black eye and busted lip he gave him before getting up and kicking at his leg, rushing back into the bathroom.
Ryan fell to his knees in the stall because in front of him Philip Evans was having a heavy panic attack, curled up in the corner by the toilet. The poor freshmen didnât know what to do, he just cowered in fear and tugged on his dripping brown hair. Ryan could physically feel the walls caving in on the boy and he did his best to make him comfortable, tugging off the black zip up jacket he had on and wrapped it around his shoulders. In this state, it looked big on him.
âHey, I need you to calm down okay?"Â Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Ryan gently took his hands away from Philipâs face and flinched back at the burning sensation in his hand but paid no mind to it, gently giving the darker skinned trembling hands a soft squeeze.
"Breathe in, itâs okay,â he whispered and took a dramatic deep breath in so he could follow along, and exhaled.
After the boyâs panic attack was over and Philip had his head resting calmly in the crook of Ryanâs neck with the blondâs hand rubbing the back of his head soothingly, Ryan breathed out tiredly. They both sat on the tiled floor in a puddle of - hopefully - clean toilet water. Ryan kept telling him to âshhâ in the nicest way possible.
At this point, it was almost impossible to ignore the burning on the back of his hand and Ryan carefully took the glove off and pressed it against the puddled floor, sucking in a deep breath of relief. The damn thing always flared up at the worst possible time, and he hoped Philip wouldnât start freaking out again. Now that he was relaxed, he could feel the swelling in his face now. Ryan knew thereâd be a black eye forming and some kind of bruise on his jaw, and he hoped Philip didnât take blame in that.
It took a few minutes but Philip lifted his head and hissed, his hand carefully grasping at the nape of his neck. Ryan caught the view of an outlined star before it was covered, and he bit back a comment.
âIt hurts.â Philip.
âMine does too, itâll go away in a couple of minutes⊠Your anxiety attack probably just made you more aware or some shit,â Ryan mumbled back and stood up and brought him with him, hooking an arm under his armpit.
They stumbled out of the bathroom after Ryan retrieved Philipâs jacket, his bag, and two paper towels (Ryan wrapped one around his hand and forced Philip to hold the other against his neck), slowly walking them to the nurseâs office with a trail of water dripping behind them.
