Today was the day. You had been dreaming of it for years. You were eighteen, and that meant you could finally write to them. Your soulmate.
You had spent weeks imagining what you would say. However, no words seemed good enough. So in the end, you went with a simple Hi, written in black ink on your forearm.
A moment later, the ink disappeared. And you waited.
After a few minutes that seemed to drag on forever, you felt a slight tingling sensation as they responded.
So, it's you then?
You grinned. Yeah. It's me. As an afterthought, you added, My name's (f/n). What's yours?
Levi.
You whispered his name, cherishing the sound. Well, Levi, it's nice to meet you.
I'm at work now. Don't bother me.
You blinked, caught off-guard by the curt statement. You tried not to let it get to you, though. Okay, we can talk later.
He didn't reply.
You sighed, your shoulders slumping a bit as you stared at the blank skin of your arm. Well, it hadn't gone exactly as you imagined it would, but that was okay. Levi was your soulmate for a reason, right? It would work out.
You hoped.
Since you couldn't talk to Levi, you spent the rest of the day imagining what he might be like. However, you couldn't gather much from your limited exchange of words. The only thing you knew was that he had to be at least as old as you were. The writing only worked if both soulmates had turned eighteen.
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How old are you? you asked a respectable amount of time later.
It took Levi a few minutes to respond. Twenty-four.
Oh. So he was older than you. But when you thought about it, six years didn't seem like that much of a difference. Besides, you were soulmates, so what did it matter, anyway? Still, you hesitated before replying, I just turned eighteen.
Yeah, I figured.
You breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't seem like he was bothered by your age. Sorry I kept you waiting. I hope you didn't think I was a jerk when I didn't respond to your messages.
I never wrote any.
You felt a stab in your chest, but whether it was sadness, confusion, or maybe both, you couldn't tell. You paused, not knowing how to react. Oh. Can I ask why?
I don't want a soulmate.
The words hurt – probably more than they should have, since you barely knew him. Still, this was supposed to be your perfect match, the person who would love you forever. Yet he didn't want you.
You felt like you might cry, but then, a thought entered your mind. If you don't want a soulmate, why did you respond? Why are you still responding? You could have just ignored me.
A few minutes passed before Levi answered. I don't know.
Your heart fluttered. At least it wasn't an outright dismissal. That meant there was still hope. You must want it a little, deep down. Why else would you be talking to me?
Stop acting like you know everything. It's annoying.
You sighed. Look, I'll make you a deal. Just give this a chance. We don't ever have to meet if you don't want to. But at least talk to me.
You held your breath as you waited for his answer. And at last, a single word appeared on the smooth skin of your arm.
Fine.
A few moments later, it was followed by another.
Brat.
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You wrote to Levi whenever you could. Sometimes, he would tell you to shut up because he was busy. But other times, he would talk to you. As the months went on, you thought things were becoming more relaxed, more open, between the two of you. However, with just the words appearing on your arm, it was difficult to be sure.
Through your conversations, you gathered that even though Levi seemed rude, he didn't always intend to be so. That was just the way he spoke. You also found out that he was funny, in a dry, sarcastic sort of way. Although the two of you were a few years apart, you shared a lot of the same interests. And you truly did enjoy talking with him.
He told you that he was a police officer, but he didn't tell you where. In fact, he avoided any information that might identify exactly who he was. You didn't mind, though. You knew he was hesitant about the whole "soulmate" thing, so you didn't pressure him for information, or to meet in person. You decided to let him come to that on his own, when he was ready.
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Almost a year after your first message, you were walking down the lamp-lit streets of your university town, scribbling on your arm.
I finished my last exam. Want to chat?
I'm working. Maybe later.
Even though his response was terse, you felt a tingling sensation in your stomach that matched the one on your arm. It had been like this for a while now, and you knew what it meant.
You were in love with Levi.
It was strange to think about, since you had never actually met him. Was it even possible to love someone when you only exchanged notes? Yet, you couldn't deny the quickness of your breath, the fluttering of your heart. And you couldn't wait for the day when you would finally get to see him, to hear his voice.
Out of nowhere, a shiver raked down your spine. You glanced up, your sixth sense telling you that something was wrong. As you looked around, you realized that you couldn't see anyone else on the dark streets. You were alone.
Filled with an inexplicable fear, you pulled out your phone, intending to call a friend and ask for a ride. But before you could, a foul-smelling cloth slid over your mouth and nose.
The last thing you felt was your phone slipping from your fingers. Then everything went black.
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You woke up on a cold, concrete floor. The room you were in had no windows, and the only light came from a little sliver of space at the bottom of the door. You tried to move, only to realize that your wrists were chained to the wall.
Your breaths started to come in quick, shallow gasps as panic set in. Frantically, you looked around for something that might help you, but the room was bare. Your backpack was gone, and after searching your pockets, you remembered the sensation of your phone falling from your hand.
Frightened tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You couldn't yell for help. You doubted anyone would hear you. Even if someone did, chances were that person wouldn't be friendly.
You looked down at your forearm. It was a longshot, but you could only hope that, somehow, Levi would read your words and contact the right people to rescue you.
There was just one problem. You didn't have a pen.
Terror gripped your mind, but you pushed it away, forcing yourself to think, think, think...
You didn't have a pen...but you did have fingernails.
You had no idea if it would work. You had never even heard of someone doing it before. But it was your only chance.
You took a breath, gritted your teeth, and began to write.
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Levi hissed at the sudden, painful sensation on his arm. He glanced down, only to see letters scratching themselves one-by-one into his skin.
"What the hell is that damn brat doing?" he muttered to himself. He pulled out a pen, ready to tell her to cut it out. But then her writing stopped, and a single, bloody word became clear.
Help.
Levi's breath caught. He forced himself to get over his shock and quickly responded, Where are you?
Don't know. Dark room. Concrete. No windows. Chained to wall.
With each letter came a stab of pain, but Levi ignored it. His sole focus was finding (f/n), saving her before it was too late. If anything happened to her...
Give me as much information about yourself as you can, he wrote.
Levi watched as the ink disappeared from his arm. Then slowly, line after line of angry, red scratches marred his skin.
(F/n) (l/n)
Student at Sina University
(H/c) hair
(E/c) eyes
(S/c) skin
(Height) tall
Was walking on Reiss Street
Dropped my phone
By the time she stopped, there was barely any space left to write on his forearm. Levi pressed the pen to his skin, only to find that the ink had gone dry. He cursed, then stabbed his own fingernail into his flesh. I'll find you.
Immediately, Levi called in to apprise his department of the situation and ask for backup. Then he rushed over to the university, which thankfully wasn't too far away. He and (f/n) had been in the same city all this time, and he never knew...
While the other officers knocked on doors, asking if anyone had seen anything, Levi searched the street for evidence. The process was frustratingly slow. Eventually, he did find a phone, but the thing was so heavily damaged that he had no way to tell if it was hers.
He grabbed his partner and borrowed a pen.
It may take us a while, but we're coming. Are you alright?
Yes.
Good. I'll keep checking in with you. You don't have to respond with words. Just one mark will do. Just so I know you're okay.
A single, red line appeared on Levi's skin.
Slowly but surely, the police made progress. At every opportunity, Levi wrote to (f/n). He couldn't risk telling her what they had learned, just in case her captor saw the messages and decided to run – or worse, kill her. However, he tried his best to be reassuring.
It was 2am by the time they finally got a solid lead. Levi sat in the passenger's seat while his partner drove to the location, just in case he needed to write to (f/n).
When they were about ten minutes away, Levi felt more scratches on his arm.
They know.
Levi's heart stopped. He growled at his partner to drive faster, then hastily started writing.
Hold on. We're coming.
For one long, agonizing minute, (f/n) didn't respond. Then...
I love you.
Levi's breath hitched.
Stay alive. Do whatever it takes, but stay alive. We're coming.
She didn't respond.
(F/n)?
Nothing.
Stay alive. Please.
Levi watched as the ink faded. And no red lines replaced it.
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You cried out as the man grabbed you by your hair and slammed you into the wall.
"Bitch! You called the cops, didn't you?"
"No, no, I didn't," you cried, shaking uncontrollably. "Please, I didn't."
"Do you think I'm an idiot? I saw the writing! Who did you contact?"
"M-my soulmate," you sputtered, your vision blurred by both tears and pain. "Please."
"And he's a cop, isn't he?" the man barked. He slammed you into the wall again. "Bitch!"
The man's accomplice placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey bro, if she really did call the cops, then we gotta go."
"Fine," the man holding you snapped. Then he pulled out a knife. "But first, I'm gonna make sure she can't talk to her soulmate ever again. She doesn't need arms where she's going."
"That's sick, bro. You think the buyers are going to want a disfigured girl? And what if she loses too much blood, huh? She could die. Then all of this was for nothing!"
Your tormentor's eyes narrowed. "You'll stitch her up, if you know what's good for you! Besides, someone will take her. We cater to all kinds." The man turned back to you and hissed mockingly, "Say goodbye to your lover, little girl."
You felt the cold bite of the knife on your skin, just below your shoulder.
"Please don't!" you sobbed. "Please!"
Just as your blood started to flow, you heard several loud bangs above you.
"This is the police! Show yourselves!"
Both of your kidnappers cursed. The knife left your arm and pressed against the vulnerable skin of your throat.
"Looks like this is goodbye, bitch," the man holding you growled.
But several pairs of footsteps raced down the stairs and into the large, concrete room that had become your prison.
"Freeze! Drop your weapon!"
"Do it, or we'll shoot!"
"Don't hurt the girl!"
You didn't dare take your eyes off of your captor. You didn't dare to hope – not with that knife still pressing into your skin.
You watched as his face contorted in fury. For a moment, he pressed the knife a little harder, drawing blood. But then he pulled away.
"You got lucky, bitch," he hissed. Then he let go of your hair, and you slumped to the ground in a heap.
You heard the sound of rushing footsteps as the officers handcuffed your kidnappers. But you didn't lift your head. You stayed curled in a ball, until you felt gentle, calloused fingers on your skin.
"(F/n)?"
Slowly, you titled your head just enough to look at the officer who now knelt before you.
The first things you noticed were his eyes – his breathtaking, grey-blue eyes. That gunmetal shade, along with their sharpness, would normally have been intimidating. However, those eyes gazed at you softly, tenderly, and you felt nothing but safe under their watch.
You tore your attention away and observed the rest of him. He was stunning – the most beautiful man you had ever seen. You took all of him in – his thin lips, his muscular frame, his black hair styled in an undercut. Then you let your gaze return to those eyes.
"Levi?" you whispered, your throat dry and scratchy from screaming.
He breathed a sigh of relief, then carefully pulled you into his arms. "Thank God," he murmured. "I thought we were too late."
Despite the pain, despite the terror that had gripped you for hours, you smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you," you mumbled into his shoulder.
"Tch," he scoffed. "Likewise. Though the circumstances aren't exactly ideal."
"True." You snuggled into him and breathed deeply, realizing he smelled like the black tea that he had told you was his favorite. "Thank you for saving me."
"Anytime, brat." He stood, cradling you in his strong arms. "Now, come on. Let's get you to the hospital."
Levi carried you all the way outside to the ambulance. With a gentleness near reverence, he set you on the stretcher in the back of the vehicle.
As soon as he let go, you grabbed his arm. "Will you ride with me?" you asked, a bit of anxiety seeping into your voice.
Those breathtaking eyes met yours, and Levi smoothed the hair back from your face. "Of course," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."
You smiled in gratitude, then lightly brushed your thumb across his arm. Except, it felt like...
You glanced down, only to find that Levi's pale skin was covered in angry, red marks, mirroring your own.
You gasped. "I...I'm so sorry," you stammered, guilt making your chest feel tight. "I didn't mean to hurt you –"
"Hey, stop that," Levi murmured, cupping your face in his hand, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered. "This is nothing. I'd take it a thousand times over, if it meant I could save you."
His words brought tears to your eyes.
Levi leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, then whispered, "I do want a soulmate. I want you." He rested his forehead against yours, looking right into your eyes. "I love you, (f/n) (l/n)."
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Levi watched the doctors like a hawk as they examined you, as they cleaned and bandaged your wounds. He refused to let them look at his arm until you were fully cared for.
With modern medicine, the scratch marks on his skin and yours would heal completely, as if they had never been there at all. However, unbeknownst to Levi, there was one line that you asked the doctors not to touch – one line that you wanted to keep forever.
A few weeks later, when the bandages finally came off, Levi noticed the scars marring your otherwise-smooth skin. He ran the pad of his thumb over the words, then looked up at you with narrowed eyes.
"Why?" was all he asked.
You glanced at the ground, shrugging sheepishly. "I never wanted to forget," you mumbled.
Levi's gaze returned to your arm, taking in the single sentence that he had scratched into his skin that night.
I'll find you.
You were on pins and needles as you watched him, waiting for any kind of reaction.
At last, he muttered softly, "Then it seems...we had the same idea."
Without letting go of your arm, he lifted his opposite and showed it to you, turning so the skin he would normally write on was visible.
I love you.
You gasped, reaching out to trace the letters with your fingertips. You heard Levi's breath hitch at the sensation.
"I love you," you whispered. Then your eyes lifted, met his. And you said it again. "I love you."
His stoic expression crumpled, and in an instant, Levi had pulled you against him. And then he was kissing you, tenderly, passionately.
"I love you," he murmured in between kisses, repeating those three, beautiful words back to you. "And I will find you. Always."
Tears filled your eyes as you returned his embrace – returned his tenderness and passion with your own. In all your life, you had never been so happy. And you thanked whatever cosmic power had chosen this rude, grumpy, kind, brave man to be your soulmate.
As you continued the kiss, you kept your grip on each other, fingers brushing over and over those promises that were forever carved into your skin.
I'll find you.
I love you.