I Take It Back

Meet Cutes

Stiles grew up idolizing and romanticizing the idea of his future soulmate words. All the way up until his 12th birthday, he wondered and dreamed about what they would be. He watched so many romance movies and read so many novels - and fanfiction - that it caused an even more devastating blow when he finally got his soulmate words that fateful night on his twelfth birthday. It was 11:59 pm (23:59) and he felt the words slowly forming under his upper arm. He remembered thinking that no one told him it'd feel so weird as the writing etched itself into his skin. It didn't burn, it didn't carve, it just... wormed.

He watched as each letter formed in agonizing slow movements. He waited for each loop and curl of the cursive writing to finish. And then he saw it in its entirety. And that was the day his heart broke. And that was when his parents gave up hope for him. And the words that pierced through his heart every day for the next 10 years were: "Get out of my face before I kill you."

Devastation.

Stiles only felt devastation. His soulmate was going to hate him. Not only that, but they were going to hate him so much that they would want to kill him. Or at least not feel bad about threatening to. Stiles couldn't even imagine what he could possibly say to warrant such a reaction. Maybe he made a really dumb joke that ended up offending his soulmate? Stiles didn't know. All he knew was devastation.

He no longer thought about what his soulmate might look like, he no longer dreamed about their romcom-like meet cute, he no longer hoped. Every day, life taunted him with his parents' soulmate marks ("What a beautiful woman." and "What a handsome man."), his best friend Scott's soulmate mark ("So you're the lucky man that gets to marry me!"), his friend Lydia's mark ("Six years of waiting for you was way too many."), and his friend Erica's mark ("None of my soulmate dreams could have prepared me for your beauty in real life."). Even Jackson's mark was better than his! ("I didn't know I was gay?")

Stiles was surrounded by people with the most romantic soulmate marks ever and his just sat on his arm like a constant reminder that he wasn't worth love and even fate itself had abandoned him.

He only let Scott and Erica read his words, and everyone else had to just sit there wondering what could be so bad. Jackson almost saw them once but Stiles threw water in his face and ran, which led to one very angry Jackson and one annoyed Scott.

Stiles was 22 now, and trying his hardest to NEVER speak first when meeting someone new. He didn't want his soulmate to know who he was, so he rarely spoke to people unless they said something first. Most people didn't catch on to this so it was working pretty well. That is, until Lydia realized what he was doing at a frat party one night and forced him to start talking to people first again. In Lydia's words, "If you're the one to talk first, then at least you'll know what pissed your soulmate off. If you never speak to them, you'll always be left wondering what happened." So, Stiles guessed she had a point there... but just a small one.

Stiles started introducing himself to others like normal again, which made college projects with the shy students a lot easier, and soon, he almost forgot about the fact that one of these people might be his soulmate. He forgot all about those silly little words under his bicep, and he forgot all the pain he suffered for the last ten years.

Now, Stiles was scurrying to his dorm room trying to get his outfit for the concert tomorrow picked out. He knew Erica and Lydia were going to demand to know what he was wearing and then proceed to make him change five times, so he wanted to get ahead of them. While running through the halls, he accidentally bumped into someone and knocked over a very important looking project. The clay sculpture shattered onto the ground and Stiles watched with horror.

He started immediately apologizing, still looking at the broken mess of clay on the ground. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry for ruining your sculpture or project thing, I wasn't looking and it's totally my fault!", he apologized profusely. Stiles continued apologizing for what felt like hours - but was really seconds - until he realized the person he bumped into hasn't said anything.

He looked up to see the most gorgeous, and fumingly mad, hot, angry, breathtakingly stunning, furious, created by the gods, livid, beautiful man he'd ever seen in his entire life.

The man had olive skin, mesmerizing green eyes, black hair, a tight muscle shirt, a leather jacket that fit snugly in all the right places, a jawline for eons, handsome stubble, and the most frightening glare on this Earth. Somehow, the glare was the hottest part about him.

"Umm... I'm really sorry...", Stiles apologized one last time. The man's glare didn't waiver. He looked to be older than Stiles by maybe two or three years? Stiles wasn't focused much on his age, he was more so focused on how the man looked like he could bench press a car. Now Stiles was scared AND horny. Great.

"Get.", the man started slowly. "Out.", so painfully slowly. "Of. My." Stiles could feel the world spinning and the blood draining from his face. "Face." Oh no. "Before. I." Stiles wished so badly for a place to run to and hide in but his dorm was too far away and the man could certainly catch him.

The man paused. Stiles felt even worse now. It's like he knew exactly what the man was going to say, cause he did, but just couldn't quite hear him say it yet, cause he hadn't said it yet.

The man seemed to be thinking of the perfect threat, or maybe assessing how angry he was to determine what he should say. Stiles longed for him to hurry up so Stiles could go sob silently in his room. Of course his soulmate would look like a greek god and then hate him forever. Stiles knew he was on the verge of tears but pleaded with his mind not to open the floodgates until he was away from all the eyes that would surely be on him.

"Never mind. Just go.", the man said.

"What?", Stiles asked.

"Just go!", the man hollered. Stiles ran back to his safe dorm at once, relief, confusion, and the lingering sorrow clinging to him as he went barreling down the hall. He slammed the door and locked it at once, sliding down the door as the tears finally started to poor down his face.

He ripped his flannel off and pulled up his shirt sleeve slightly to see if the words had changed. If perhaps the words he saw in his nightmares every single night were somehow wrong. They weren't. It wasn't him. He didn't meet his soulmate.

He felt glad that it didn't happen yet but also disappointed. He just wished this would be over already, he really just wished that he could meet his soulmate and move on with his life. But instead, fate taunted him and reminded him of his suffering that has yet to come. The gnawing anxiety ate at him as he slowly got up and moved about his room to pick out an outfit for tomorrow.

He no longer wanted to go, what with his newly remembered soulmate pains, but he knew Lydia and Erica would drag him along despite his cries or excuses. So he picked something out and laid it on the bed, before flopping down and sleeping.

He let his dreams come and the haunting words to haunt him further. The dream was... haunting. He can't think of any better words.

The next day when he woke up, he immediately heard knocking on his door. It was, of course, Erica Reyes and Lydia Martin. The two fashion demons from hell here to criticize his taste in jeans. Or something like that?

They strolled in, yelled at him about his shirt for a couple minutes, rummaged through his wardrobe for an hour, and then decided to just take him shopping.

On the way to the mall, he saw the man from yesterday again. The man apologized for being so rude and said he was just tired and frustrated. Then, Stiles learned that his name was Logan. Nothing catchy. Just Logan.