#yp(g)

Ryan: *drags the brush through his hair once*

Ryan: Okay, let's go.

It didn't take long for Philip's mom to come get them from the office. The first thing she did when she entered the room was grap Philip's face and ask if he was alright. What Ryan didn't expect, though, was hug from her as well and a quiet "Thank you," into his ear. Ryan didn't really know how but Francine (Philip's mother - she told him right before they all left) somehow got permission to bring Ryan home with them. (He had to feign pain, showing the nurse the bruises and bloody nose the jock had left him with. He also had to pretend to actually know Philip, who had meekly stated that Ryan was his best friend.) Now he was sitting with his hands in his lap in the backseat next to a basket of fresh laundry, staring at whatever passed by outside. It was a quiet and an easy, comfortable silence that drowned the sounds of the radio. "Your name's Ryan, right?" He flicked his eyes to Francine in the driver's seat, who looked at him through the mirror. He couldn't help but notice the similarity between Philip and her; the same dark skin, the chestnut wavy hair, hell, Philip even had her eyes (not that he spent too much time looking at them, he'd just noticed the midnight shade of blue they were). "Yes ma'am," he hummed out, occupying himself with the hem on his gloves. "You should probably give your parents a call when we get home, okay sweetie? I'll get you some ice for your eye." The rest of the drive was rode in silence, and he could've sworn he heard Philip's breathing deepen in the front seat. Was he sleeping? It felt like eternity he was in the car, just watching the overlooming trees covering backyards and sidewalks. Ryan saw a few younger kids playing in front of a house, playing with a bunch of jacks and a bouncy ball. When was the last time he's seen anyone play with those? When they entered the driveway, Philip had jolted awake in his sleep, groaning at the dull pain in his head from smacking it against the window. Ryan had to stiffle a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. Everyone got out  at once, or tried, at least. Seems the back doors were baby proofed. Philip had to open the door for him, and when Ryan got out, his eyes drifted to his hair. It was still damp but it wasn't dripping onto the collar of his jacket anymore. Ryan helped Philip into the house, refusing to let go of his hand when the brunette tried to steal his hand away, letting out an embarrassing girlish squeal. It had practically taken him to drag the boy up to the house with the slight limp that Philip was giving. Everyone was inside now, and Ryan felt a bit out of place while he was there in the entrance hallway, numbly walking behind Philip. His mother was ahead of them talking, but he didn't really pay attention. He silently wondered when Philip had started leading him through the corridor instead of Ryan, but he didn't mind. His hand was being pulled along, too, and he smiled slightly. Phiip was escorted to the bathroom by his mother, while Ryan sat on the couch with a small bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel pressed to his jaw. He took the momentary silence to call his mom, quietly glancing around the living room he was in. It took a bit of persuading and a lot of "Are you okay?'s" before he hung up the phone and leaned his sore head back to listen to faint noises of running water and loud off-key humming. The sound made Ryan smile and the forgotten pain in his hand returned. It was more numbing this time, and his the back of his hand felt wet. In all honesty, Ryan knew Philip was his soul mate from when he first seen the boy being held with his face in the toilet. He knew that something was off even before he stepped into the bathroom - the feeling was there: not in his hand, but in him. Ryan truly didn't want to believe that Philip was his because it was really uncommon to get a soul mate of the same sex. It wasn't as rare as he thought, though. Emily and Ashley were paired together and they seemed happy to be in each other's company. He was also scared. What would Philip's mom think? Or worse. What would Ryan's parents think? Ryan's mother and father weren't even paired together. It's not like it was illegal to marry outside of your soul mate, or mates, in some cases. It was just very taboo. The fact that they were both guys made him antsy, too. He racked his hand through his blond locks and hummed out a loud sigh. Did Philip even know they were soul mates? Ryan pressed the palm of his hand right above his breast, feeling their heartbeats together. He couldn't tell who's was who's, but someone was shockingly calm. Ryan wished he could say that was his - and maybe it was? Maybe the nerves he was feeling was actually Philip's, but he added a different reasoning behind them. The poor kid was almost drowned in the most unsanitary way possible. Before he realized, Philip was sitting in the recliner next to the couch, watching Ryan lean over and fantasize about everything that could and would probably go wrong, When Ryan did notice him, though, he took a long look over the boy. Philip sat with his legs underneath him, drawled into the chair. His hair was styled into a sloppy bun at the nape of his neck which looked oddly tame against the brigade of curls his bangs were. He was constantly pushing them out of his eyes. Oh, god, he really did have his mother's eyes. They shared the same tempting deep blue hue to them. Philip had a simple white tank top on and a thick pair of sweatpants on. He looked away when he realized that he was technically staring - and there it was: that drawled out silence that should've been deafening, but it was oddly comforting, and Ryan had to focus on silencing the pounding in his chest. "Mom's got your jacket in the washer," he said, breaking said silence. Ryan leaned his head up to look at him properly and replied, "yeah, thanks." "C-can we talk?" Philip had to pause to move himself into a more comfortable position, and with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being watched, he continued. "I'd really like to get to know you better, if you wanna, too. You don't have to, I mean! I know it's.. Can we go to my room? It's privater, and I don't know if you," he stopped short, probably because Ryan was already starting to get up. Philip got up too and rubbed his wrist, turning away to lead the blond to his room. God-fucking-damnit. Ryan took for granted how short he actually was because Philip was actually almost towering over him. There was at least a four inch height difference (not that it mattered). Ryan felt like clinging to the back of Philip's tanktop like a lost puppy because, damn, was his house big. They had already gone down two completely seperate hallways before they even reached the stairs to the second floor. When the soul mates (finally) slid into the room and closed the door shut, this was not something Ryan was expecting. There were small magazine posters of aliens and weird japanese creatures littering every inch of his walls and Ryan couldn't help but notice the larger map above his bed that had multiple blue, yellow, and red thumb tacks stuck in the paper. A line of rocks were displayed across the top of the headboard of the bed. "So, I guess that means we're like," Philip sat down on the bed and hugged a knee to his chest. "soul mates, or something?" "I guess." There was a small weight lifted off Ryan's chest - he knew, and he was okay with it, or, at least, he's not freaking out. The way Philip moved was with an awkward kind of grace, and Ryan couldn't help but admire his curvy, feminine figure when he pulled on Ryan's  wrist to tug him onto the bed next to him. "We might be soul mates, but that doesn't mean that we have to act on it if one of us is uncomfortable." Ryan found his hand resting on the right side of Philip's chest. It was weird, feeling the two heartbeats in one body. That was his heartbeat. "I don't think we should. It'll just end up hurting one of us," Ryan said, trailing his hand and eyes up to the shirt collar and tugging it down lighting to see the small inking of a star. It was smaller than a dime, but it was the same color as his eyes; that deep blue that anyone could get lost in if they looked into them for too long. "My teacher told me awhile ago that if two partners try to force themselves away from each other, their hearts will stop. Literally. So, yeah, no. That's not an option," he hummed out. Ryan pressed his fingertips to the star, felt the younger boy shiver beneath him and trailed his hand up farther his neck until he was plucking the bobby pins from Philip's brown hair. It softly rolled out, just a bit shy from his shoulders. He was truly an attractive kid. When he pulled his hand away, Ryan heard a sigh escape. He wasn't sure who made the noise, though. Probably both of them. Almost as soft as Ryan was touching the boy in front of him, Philip's hands were grasping his cheeks, looking straight into his eyes. His thumbs rubbing into Ryan's temples gently and he couldn't help the purr that came from his throat. The hands trailed back into the short blond locks and dragged fingers through his scalp. It was an odd feeling, but he didn't mind it. He couldn't mind it, because soon Philip's hand was grabbing at Ryan's hand and he pressed a kiss to the back of his palm, sending a wave of emotion over Ryan. As soon as it was there, it was gone, and Ryan knew it was because of their shared fear of getting caught being so intimate with each other.

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Soul Mate AU: #YHPGS Coffeeshop AU: N/A Band AU: N/A Arranged Marriage AU: N/A Modern Royalty AU: N/A Tattoo + Florist AU: #YPGFB Social Media AU: N/A Blind AU: Sex-Swap AU (3 Parts):

Ryan received his Soul Markings after a first week in his sophomore year of high school, and it didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 wouldn’t be accepting because 13 was still a young age to get the markings. There were many seniors without them, and even some of his father’s work friends didn’t even have them. The thought scared Ryan at first - knowing that there wouldn’t be someone who could make you happy in only the way that one special person could. It’s not like two unmarked people couldn’t go out or get married, it was just.. refreshing to know that there was someone out there who was specifically meant for him.

It wasn’t 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 didn’t like his personality, or the way he dressed, or how he ate his food, or worse, what if they didn’t like his blond hair? What if him and his match don’t 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.

—

It should be easier than this. Why can’t it be easier?

Ryan spent the rest of his lunch period scanning the cafeteria, looking over people he thinks he’s 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 Ryan’s Recieving, she immediately approached the blond and stared asking about it. Ryan wasn’t at all embarrased to tell her, though, because she had recently got hers, and she was probably just making sure that they weren’t matched. Actually, he knew instantly that it wasn’t her. It’s not that he didn’t 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 wasn’t 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 men’s 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 kid’s 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 kid’s jersey and slamming him into the hall.

“What the fuck are you doin’ yo-”

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 didn’t 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.

“Hey, I need you to calm down okay?" Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Ryan gently took his hands away from Philip’s 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, it’s okay,” he whispered and took a dramatic deep breath in so he could follow along, and exhaled.

After the boy’s panic attack was over and Philip had his head resting calmly in the crook of Ryan’s neck with the blond’s 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 “shh” 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 wouldn’t start freaking out again. Now that he was relaxed, he could feel the swelling in his face now. Ryan knew there’d be a black eye forming and some kind of bruise on his jaw, and he hoped Philip didn’t 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.

“It hurts.” Philip.

“Mine does too, it’ll go away in a couple of minutes… Your anxiety attack probably just made you more aware or some shit,” Ryan mumbled back and stood up and brought him with him, hooking an arm under his armpit.