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ten fateful encounters

Summary:

‘Verse ten— soulmates aren’t real.

Until they are.

Notes:

happy valentine's day, loveys!!

i've been waiting for MONTHS to share this series with you and i am: so. freaking. excited !!

i love soulmate au's and i've been on the mission to write some wholesome satogou soulmates content for a minute. what better day to share than the 14th of February? a day to celebrate love!

So, from my heart to yours, a lil' valentine's, soulmate loving:

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

<< The first words your soulmate says to you are written in your wrist - except the words in your wrist are something super common like ‘yes’, or ‘hi’>>

Goh hates his soulmate.

Well, no, no, of course he doesn’t hate them hate them. He couldn’t, they are the one person in the universe who was perfectly crafted for him. But — eh, he does hate them. A little.

The thing is: of all the wonderful, romantic, awe-inspiring first liners a person can possibly have to meet their special someone, of all the fantastic and fateful ways there is to spark that first conversation, sometimes Goh has a hard time believing his chosen words are so… so fucking simple.

Word. If we’re being technical about it. The most used word ever. If we’re being painfully technical about it.

Yes’ reads in Goh’s inner wrist. And more than a gift from the universe, or a helpful push to find the love of his life, it often feels to Goh as if he is being mocked. As if someone, wherever it is that soulmates are assigned, got bored of doing their job right, and decided to give Goh this stupid word that does absolutely nothing as far as guiding him toward his one true person is concerned.

Goh hears yes at least fifty times every day. And it’s the first thing at least a hundred people have said to him in the span of his lifetime. 

He knows. He’s kept count.

“Excuse me, is this the A-3 classroom?”

Yes,” had answered a green eyed brunette on the first day of high-school, and Goh, whose soulmate mark had just appeared about a week before, felt his heart almost beat the fuck out of his ribcage and sprint down the hallway.

So soon already? This girl?! Was she the one?!

“Hey, are you coming in?” Asked the girl, seemingly unfazed, and Goh clearly remembered the hint of annoyance in her voice, the both of them standing in the hallway, the bell having rung a minute ago.

Chloe hadn’t been his soulmate, obviously. But she had laughed to the high heavens when, three years later and a solid friendship to speak for (that he justified was a good-enough a reason to forgive himself the embarrassment), he confessed how he had foolishly believed she would be.

You were amazing out there. Read in the inside of Chloe’s wrist. Which, while still something one could hear often — specially being the captain of the cheerleading squad — significantly narrowed down the field for his friend to find her true match.

She always said ‘thank you’, because it was the polite thing to say, and because it’s the way one usually replies to a compliment. Yet, none of her many admirers and followers had a scribbled ‘thank you’ on the inner side of their wrist.

Chloe always said ‘thank you’. Until the day she didn’t. 

Until the day they played a match against the neighbor school’s soccer team, and she ran into a girl from the opposite team’s squad right as she left the field from the half-time show.

“You were amazing out there!” Said the girl, admired.

And Chloe, who had seen their performance at the beginning of the match, and had been quite impressed herself, replied with the first thing that had come to her mind, a just as polite but very heartfelt: “So were you!”

Something clicked. And, more than the realization in the other girl’s eyes, it was Chloe’s own surprise at realizing she’d said something different than ‘thank you’ to the compliment what made her understand that this was it.

You know how many people had said that to me before, though? It’s really all about what you say in reply, Goh. 

Of course she could be smug about it now, both her and Serena parading adorably around campus. Happy and without a worry in the world, for they had found each other.

Still, Goh knew his friend had a point. 

No matter how plain and simple the stupid yes was, it was a complement of something. That’s the whole point of soulmates, isn’t it? To have someone meet you halfway, have the both of you create something beautiful together.

His yes might seem inane to him. But it may just be the answer to some fantastic question he is going to make, any day now. And that fantastic question resides in the inner wrist of the person that will make every last one of his days make sense.

God, that’s so stupid, Goh, he reprimands himself. No more late night soulmate blog browsing for you.

But a part of him can’t help it. He really wants to meet this person and, as he gears up for his first day of university, that stupidly cheesy part of him wishes against all hope that he meets them soon.

In a class, maybe? He’s taking some advanced courses, even when he’s only a first year. Maybe his soulmate is as into science as he is, and he will ask them about some assignment, or a particularly challenging topic.

Or maybe in a coffee-shop? He’s already made plans to check out the one near campus with Chloe and Serena that afternoon.

He has an orientation class as well, on third period, that will no doubt be filled with new faces. Anyone in that room could be his soulmate, and the mere possibility makes Goh giddy with enthusiasm that, for the time being, he only qualms a little.

The day is filled with possibilities. As are the next four years. And he has a feeling that, soon enough, his own fateful encounter will arrive.

 

💘

 

Ash makes sure to have an available seat to at least one of his sides every time he goes anywhere.

Anywhere. 

If he’s out eating with his friends, he always makes them sit opposite of him. If they go to the movies, he always chooses the seats that haven’t been filled yet, and have plenty of available seats to the sides, which are always the worst seats, Ash, I’m not going to the cinema with you anymore. 

He doesn’t care what Misty says. Besides, if she’s not there, it means there is one more seat available for his soulmate to take, plus he doesn’t have to listen to her complain. Everyone wins.

It’s logistics work every time he takes a train or bus — or any type of transportation, really — and he’s not above moving seats five times in a twenty minute ride simply to have an empty seat next to him. 

Gladion and Gary laugh at his antics, call him obsessed, mildly annoyed by having to follow him through a semi-packed train wagon on their way to school, jumping seats as if they were playing some elaborate game.

And, yeah, he might be obsessed, but Ash takes this soulmate business very seriously. 

He doesn’t want to miss any opportunity to find them.

He’s got it perfectly rehearsed in his head. Has thought of the moment every day since he was fifteen, and the fateful words finally appeared on his inner-wrist.

Is this seat taken?” They will ask, and Ash imagines they voice delicate, something instantly warm and kind.

With a megawatt electric smile, Ash will turn to them, and utter the most perfect ‘No’ he ever has. And that word, far from being a rejection, will be the answer that will open the doors to the rest of his life.

Of course, Ash does’t know what words exactly exactly he is going to say, but at the very least, he is certain that he is not going shoo away his soulmate when they ask to sit next to him. 

That is why it’s imperative that there is always an empty seat next to him.

He’s thought it a million times over, so he has various variations of his answer, no, but please sit. Or, It isn’t, please. Or, his personal favorite: it is now. Which might be a little out there, but this is his soulmate, and he doesn’t think he can be too forward when it comes to them.

Ash knows the words will come to him naturally, when the moment arrives, but he still keeps a healthy roaster of options, hoping the next time someone asks to sit next to him, he will say the short selection that has been written on his other halve’s wrist since the beginning of time.

Ah, yes, he is a hopeless romantic. He hopes his soulmate won’t care.

It’s just that he can’t wait to meet them. And every day of the last four years has been as sweet as it has been torturous, waiting for them, hoping they will be right around the next corner.

At restaurants. The movies. The bus. The train. In class and during field trips, no one sits next to Ash, mocks Gary, every time, tired but resigned to his dumb-ass of a best friend, you know everyone on this bus, idiot, there is literally zero chance you’ll meet them here.

But Ash is stubborn, and decidedly puts his backpack next to him on the empty seat. An eye always open in case someone will need to sit there.

In case it’s them.

Ash breaths out as he adjusts his hat over his head, looks at his reflection back in the mirror and nods to himself once. He’s ready. 

It’s his first day of university today, and he intends to be early for every single one of his classes, not because he’s particularly excited about school, but — well, he needs to make sure to secure a couple of seats.

 

💘

 

Goh looks at the room around him nervously, the line at the campus cafeteria had taken forever, and now he was late for his orientation session. Which was, of course, packed with freshmen. 

“Sorry, it was already full when we arrived, we couldn’t save you a seat,” apologizes Serena, Chloe sporting an equally regretful expression next to her.

It’s all right, he says, with a face that expresses it’s not all right at all. But there’s nothing to be done now. He’ll just go a couple of rows up, find some stranger to sit next to.

There’s gotta be a seat in here somewhere.

 

💘

 

It might be that Ash’s borderline obsession for at least two spaces available near him is finally catching up with him. It might the nerves from his first day of university. Or it might just be that is hard to fucking breathe in this room, with how full it is of first year students. 

It might well be all of the above. 

Whatever it is, Ash feels very, very uneasy at the present arrangement, and he internally curses himself for not arriving a goddamned hour earlier, and he chastises Ritchie for not having thought of him when he chose the seats at the very end of the room.

They were the only ones I could find!, defended his friend, agitated, I was running from my other class, all the way across campus! 

Yeah, yeah, it might nor have been Ritchie’s fault, but, damn it. Ash was uncomfortable, not only were there no seats available in front or beside him, but he was now trapped in between Ritchie and the fucking wall.

Ash hates seating next to walls. It’s a waste of space that could be occupied by his soulmate.

He breathes in, trying to calm himself down. There’s a very slim chance he will actually meet his soulmate here, he knows. It’s orientation, for God’s sake, there will be someone speaking at the front of the classroom any moment now, and, with how packed the room is already, he doubts anyone is still looking for a seat, mere moments before the session begins.

But more than the improbability of running into his better half right now, is the plain discomfort of being so caged against a wall what’s making Ash uneasy.

Maybe he can ask Ritchie to tell him a funny story, he always seems to have those available in his repertoire.

“Hey, you think that — ” Uh-oh, Ritchie is standing up from his seat.

Ah, I really gotta go to the bathroom, I could’t before from all the running,” excuses his friend. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he promises and, before he takes another step, he looks Ash dead in the eyes, and warns, “don’t you dare give my seat away, Ash Ketchum.”

Ash frowns, because that’s an impossible promise and Ritchie knows it, but he nods his head anyways, with a roll of his eyes; Ritchie had been cool enough to save a seat for him. Ash owed him.

The unease doesn’t leave, but Ash takes another breath and holds it for ten seconds, the way Gladion taught him to do when he’d get too frantic about this thing or the other. It helps. The room is crowded, there’s a wall to his left, one empty — but taken — seat to his right, and five more incoming students on this same row. It’s crowded, but Ash can breath. It’s fine. Ritchie will be back any second, and it will all be fine.

Besides, it’s a minute to the scheduled start time, and it’s not like someone will suddenly come all the way  up to the back of the classroom and —

“Is this seat taken?” 

No.

Oh, no.

Because it simply can’t be. 

It can’t be that he’s spent the last four years carefully preparing for this very moment, making sure the seat next to him is never, ever taken. It’s not possible that today, of all days, his answer has got to be other than the perfect and inviting negative he’s held at the tip of his tongue for so long, and so fiercely.

He wants to say no. Screw Ritchie and his saved seat. He’s been waiting for this moment his entire life.

Fuck, thinks Ash, wishing he could just be like that.

Distressed, and without daring to look up at the person who’s just uttered the words he’s waited a lifetime to hear, he chews the response he never wanted to give. “Yes,” he breathes, every bit of his disappointment showing in the simple word.

Well, it probably isn’t them, Ash comforts himself, because it would be really rich of the universe to set him up like this the one time the answer is not what he’d expected to —

The first time the answer is different.

As realization draws up on Ash’s face, he also finally notices that the person standing next to him hasn’t moved, even when he’s just stated that the seat was, in fact, taken.

Ash dares to look up then, and is met with alarmed yet glinting deep, mesmerizing blue eyes, looking back at him as if he was a two-headed monster.

But, no. It’s just his soulmate.

Ash breathes out again, not quite believing it yet. Even without seeing the words inside this other guy’s wrist. He knows. He knows it as clearly as he knows he was always meant to answer yes, now. 

He knows it as clearly as he knows that he’s going to miss this orientation class. And as he knows Ritchie will be pissed at him for leaving their seats so carelessly.

Ash knows. He can’t believe it. But he knows.

And he may have lost all choice when it came to his first words, but Ash is almost impressed with how easy his next selection comes out, considering it’s the first thing that pops in his head.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Beautiful-guy-with-blue-eyes nods, and Ash doesn’t think twice before grabbing his hand and pulling them both out of the classroom, away from the way and the seats and the fifty-something freshman.

Toward the rest of his life.

 

💘

 

Goh — his name is Goh! — tells Ash he hates him very much, about half an hour after escaping orientation, when they’re seating on a meadow across the university’s campus.

Stupid yes forged in my stupid wrist, Goh says, his voice perfect and angry and nothing like Ash had pictured. You couldn’t have thought of something more elaborate, huh? Dummy.

Ash wants to correct him, tell Goh that he’d thought of a million things, and that ‘yes’ was never even a choice. But the complaints are breathed into Ash’s mouth as their lips press together, and Goh eventually forgets them and in turn begins to laugh with mirth and relief at knowing that finally, finally, they have found each other.

It’s funny, thinks Ash, if a bit ironic, because starting today — and for the rest of his life — the answer to is this seat taken? Will always be a plain but infinitely meaningful: yes.