Chapter Text
It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought.
She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward.
She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen.
It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes.
As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic.
“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move.
“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own.
“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb.
“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.”
Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same.
When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe.
She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen.
Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.
Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”
Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all.
~
Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll.
Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues.
“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.”
Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation.
“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down.
“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?”
“I said no, Y/B/F/N.”
“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”
Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop.
The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside.
“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind.
Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back.
The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy.
“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater.
“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot.
Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee.
At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes.
“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes.
“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag.
Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook.
“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh.
“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more.
“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”
“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again.
“You should have done it on your laptop.”
“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks.
“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”
“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.”
“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.”
“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.”
“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”
“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows.
~
Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand.
The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting.
He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door.
“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt.
“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before.
As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her.
“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers.
Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.
“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”