Chapter Text
Niragi always thought soulmates were stupid. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t think love was stupid. He loved reading romance novels even if he’d never admit it. It was nice reading about the beautiful fantasy of true love because it was just that, a fantasy.
Everyone had words on their skin. The most hurtful thing your soulmate would ever tell you. Niragi could only laugh in the face of whoever said that. It simply didn’t make sense.
His sentence was written just below his collarbones. You weren’t supposed to tell people your sentence. It was deeply personal and could be used to hurt you greatly.
Yeah right.
Once again that morning Niragi stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at his words. They were placed completely symmetrical. Someone had an eye for detail.
Words started out as a simple sketch, an idea of what could be. A hint of deep pain yet to come. Or at least that’s what it was portrayed as.
His pencil sketch wasn’t neatly drawn. It looked more like someone had scribbled it down quickly, so contrasting to the almost perfect placement. Once the words were said, some said it felt was as if their lover carefully took a brush to etch the words into their skin. It could be merely a skribble with a ballpoint pen or a bold brush stroke. They could be careful and hurt without meaning to. Accidental calligraphy made by an artist yet to be discovered.
The words could be said in a heated argument like someone took the metal tip of a fountain pen and meant for it to hurt.
What the phrase looked like after it was dipped in ink depended on how much the artist meant for it to hurt and how deep the phrase cut into your soul. Repeating the phrase could be compared to picking up the pen again. It was like opening a wound over and over again, preventing it from closing. Like they drew them over and over again until the words started to carve into your skin, written in blood rather than ink.
That was stupid though. Nobody would be cruel enough to repeat their words and if they did, they weren’t worth it in the first place.
The words could be so sharp and cutting that it was as if someone took a knife to carve them out rather than a soft brush of ink. As if they meant to get under your skin, violently getting their ink to mix with the crimson red of your blood. Niragi wasn’t sure if he ever heard of one of those cases ending well.
That was another thing with soulmates. Why was the thing that connected souls mutual hurt rather than fondness?
When they said your words you were supposed to address it. The most they’d ever hurt you. Niragi thought that was bullshit. ‘The most’ was probably an exaggeration as many statements that started with an extreme were, just like ‘always’ couldn’t exist without the occasional exception. It was something that hurt you deeply though.
You weren’t supposed to let the feelings linger, not supposed to let them grow.
Dying of a broken heart. That sounded more than silly. Stupid even. How could a single sentence hurt someone that much? Sure, communication was important but one sentence wasn’t worth dying over, especially not if addressing it was all that needed to be done to prevent the hurt taking root.
That however was the reality of it all. If you let the feelings grow, eventually they’d turn into something much more physical. They’d flourish somewhere inside of you. The flowers would be blooming without any regard for organs in the way, drawing energy from your body to further their growth.
Where this happened depended entirely on your relationship.
Did they make you feel fuzzy warm inside? The feeling of hurt would grow inside your stomach, vines winding around your intestines. Nausea and terrible cramps would make it unbearable until the plants spread into the rest of your body like cancer.
Did you think they were blindingly beautiful? Slowly your vision would be clouded by miniscule petals. Thorns would bore themselves into optic nerves and eventually vision would fade. Blinded by someone's beauty. What a tragic fate. Loving someone so much you’d lose your sight just so you didn’t have to acknowledge the hurt.
Incredibly stupid. If you asked Niragi, he’d say that person was blind. They weren’t blinded by love. They’d be blinded by foolishness because after all, there was no sentence worth dying over. There was no person worth dying over.
You were supposed to address it so they’d take their stupid flowers back. You were supposed to get over your argument because the flowers could only be tamed once you stopped being hurt by their words or dealt with them any other way. The ink on your skin would eventually fade into a scar and their skin would display the very weight of the flowers they took off your shoulders.
If they wouldn’t take their flowers back, there was another option. If you couldn’t forgive or forget them, you could cut out the cancer. You could cut out the words and fight the stems by burning the roots. Doing this was often a highly invasive surgery because at that point you might have to remove whole organs depending on where the plants had taken root.
You would also get rid of an important part of yourself. After all, every feeling ever experienced was what made up a person and maybe other people wouldn’t notice the missing piece but you’d always feel a certain emptiness.
Of course you wouldn’t forget them, after all, memories were made and you couldn’t cut those out. The feelings though, the feeling responsible for furthering the growth of flowers, the thing that connected the simple sentence to such soul crushing hurt, that would disappear. You’d keep the memories but memories without feelings were simply like a silent film. It was never meant to be a silent film and maybe your memory was good enough to supply the subtitles but it would never be the same as hearing the sound. It wouldn’t be the same as feeling the fondness attached to a simple smile, hearing the laughter. You’d simply know they smiled and maybe you remembered that you once thought that brightened up your day.
Niragi had heard of the feelings festering into burning anger instead, blazing enough to burn the roots off without surgery. Of course this was the same as cutting them out of your life.
So really, in the end it depended on what you were willing to do and how you dealt with your feelings. Were the feelings like a weed that needed to be cut, simple as that? Were they unwanted sentiments that needed to be grabbed by the root and torn out without any regard for the damage caused?
Or were the tiny plants sprouting always meant to be beautiful flowers? If you tended to them, the feelings of hurt could grow into something less dangerous. Something that wouldn’t hurt you or them. They’d carry the reminder of flowers on their skin and you’d carry theirs.
In which shape this manifested was always different and it would create something wholly unique. The inked patterns of your partner’s flower combined with their past hurt would always be a reminder of what you’ve overcome together.
It was a nice trope for movies. The couple would scream at each other or hurt silently. They’d start to fuel the flowers and eventually, coincidentally before it was about to be ‘too late’, they’d talk about it. If the woman had been struggling with the thorns of roses wrapping around her heart, her partner might have intricate patterns of Lilys wherever his soul mark had been now. Once she fully forgave him, stopped being hurt by the words, the pattern would be complete. Maybe Her partner had Lilys trying to take away his speech because he valued their conversation so much. Maybe he’d also give her the flowers back and her skin would be decorated by beautiful roses.
Forgiving your partner gave them the flowers back. This wasn’t painful. It was simply like giving someone a bouquet of carefully chosen flora. Except the flowers would be the ones you reminded them of the most. Usually those would be the same they’ve been plagued with.
Forgiving yourself would make your sentence on their skin slowly fade into a scar.
Niragi didn’t understand how someone could even etch as much as one flower onto someone's skin. The sickness progressed slowly over the course of many months. It wasn’t as if you suddenly lost your ability to walk because your partner had made you feel free. Like running. It would start with fatigue that slowly turned into worse and worse symptoms. You had plenty of time to decide and if you never meant to address it, you didn’t love them in the first place. It was as easy as that.
This was what Niragi thought about as he traced over the sentence on his skin. Maybe he was an exception. He didn’t think that sentence could even hurt. It sounded more like a compliment if anything.
You’re my dearest friend.
Niragi had been told many things before. In high school he had been called slurs and insults. After a while the simple things just bounced off him. Some of them had cut deep. Some of them made him struggle with his own identity way into his mid 20s. Now though, at 29 if anyone would try to insult him by insinuating he’d kiss a man he’d give them a cocky smile and ask “What, jealous?”
At one point he had accepted that his soulmate would be a guy. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept that he might never meet them. He had always told himself once he turned 30 he’d date people seriously (even if they’d never be his soulmate) instead of just fucking around. Somehow he still hoped he’d find his soulmate before but he was also pretty sure whoever he was wouldn’t meet him at a random one night stand.
Niragi had been called a moron, an asshole, a scum and an idiot. He had the word faggot and bastard thrown at his face. No words would be able to cut him deep enough to hurt. His former bullies made him do vile things. If someone would suggest words would still be able to pierce deeply he’d stick out his tongue and call them a fool. They probably wouldn’t understand why this gesture was such a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone who wronged him in the past. He did though because he knew pain. Because he held that needle himself and nobody would ever truly get what he felt that moment.
Because for a majority of his 20s he had been a total asshole, only slowly learning how to be… better, even if saying that sentence would make him fake gag if anyone dared to suggest.
So yes, Niragi knew pain. Emotionally and physically.
If someone called him their dearest friend the only thing he’d feel would be immensely flattered. Maybe fate made a mistake. Maybe he was just lucky and someone thought he could get a happy soulmark as an apology for all that bullshit he had to endure. If anything, his soulmark was a promise that one day he’d find someone who wanted to be his friend. Dearest friend. If someone managed to look past all of his flaws and call him that, he’d probably worship the ground they walked on. He’d address it immediately and they’d have a laugh about how silly this was. He would think their laugh was pretty and they’d laugh even more.
He was pretty sure his soulmate would be one of the people without soul words. That wasn’t a problem. It simply meant he wouldn’t hurt them. That was rare but it happened. Evidence for their bond would only be there in the form of the flowers Niragi would give to him, the flowers of the hurt caused. Then again, since Niragi was pretty sure he wouldn’t feel hurt by their words that might not happen either.
He had heard of flowers blooming without previous hurt too though. In fact, it wasn’t that rare that after years a couple would find new flowers on their bodies as an unconscious token of appreciation by their lover. It didn’t even have to be the same flowers.
Niragi was pretty sure he’d be black roses. It just fit his aesthetic but they wouldn’t be flowers of sadness. He’d also make sure to cut down the thorns so his soulmate wouldn’t cut themselves even if the ink born of love wouldn’t be capable of that anyway.
Maybe all of this was wishful thinking. He was almost 30. It was time to consider his options. In fact, he might break his vow a little early because he was invited to a group hangout with Karube and the unimportant footnotes. Unimportant footnote number one in this case was Arisu followed by the bane of his existence; the bleached blonde bastard that shall not be named, Kuina as well as An.
Heiya ‘didn’t want to hang out with all the old people’. Niragi took offence when she told him that. He took even more offence when she called him ancient despite only being 29! Ancient. She really feared nothing. Then again, Niragi was the second youngest of their group, only beating Chishiya in this (HA!) and hanging with a bunch of 30 year olds more than once a week was probably boring for Heiya. Niragi remembered when he was her age, early 20s and..- Oh shit. Those were old people's thoughts. WAS HE GETTING OLD?!
If Chota was there depended on his working schedule since his boss was ‘an asshole who let him work ungodly times’ as he always said. Chota saying this sentence was funny for multiple reasons. One, Chota didn’t work a boring office job. While he managed finances and paperwork. When he did this work was completely his choice so really, the one making him work ungodly times was himself.
The second reason why everyone except Karube found this funny was the fact that technically Chota’s only coworker was the same man he was complaining about. In this case that was Karube because after they found themselves in unemployment yet again at 25 the only thing different from the previous time was that they both had no obligations at the same time. That was a dangerous combination.
If someone asked Chota he’d say it was a mix of questionable decisions that led to them impulsively spending all of Chota’s savings on an auction for a joke and accidentally buying a completely unusable place that couldn’t even be described as a bar but rather a hole in the wall that coincidentally had a door because nobody bet higher for some miracle.
If someone asked Karube for the story (and Niragi did because damn, the man was cool and he meant this in the most platonic ‘I wish I owned a bar’ way), Karube would say it was the two bottles of wine. Niragi suspected there was a bit more to the story and he wished Karube was able to actually recollect the conversations two bottles of wine spawned that led to buying a bar.
Both of them were lucky this decision didn’t put them into financial ruin because the place had been dirt cheap for a reason and was one hell of work to renovate. Niragi was slightly relieved he didn’t know them 7 years ago because he would have gotten roped into the seemingly hopeless endeavor of trying to prevent bankruptcy and convince themselves at the same time that this was a non-wine-fueled great idea.
Now everyone approved of the bar as the superior hangout place even if the presence of the inferior bleached blonde man brought down the value at least by half.
Maybe Niragi should start into the dating life slowly. A… two night stand? He put on an outfit he deemed just the right amount of attractive while not looking cheap.
He pushed open the door to the bar. It was actually quite well visited. It was also advertised as a friendly lgbtq space because his friend group really tried to collect the whole rainbow. It was nice to have a place where the ones throwing drinks at his face would also be the ones getting thrown out.
The rest of the group was already seated at their regular table but Niragi called this being fashionably late. He wasn’t the last to arrive, he was the fucking highlight, please and thank you.
“Yo,” Karube waved from behind the bar. Niragi nodded before sitting down with the others.
“Aha.” Chishiya said ominously.
“What.”
“That’s what you’re doing today.”
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles.”
“I think he’s saying..-” Chishiya shushed Arisu by putting his hand in front of his mouth. Niragi could see how Arisu blushed slightly and..- Really? Chishiya?
He felt a little sorry for him because he was pretty sure there wasn’t one fiber capable of feeling anything more than vague intrigue in that body. Chishiya was shorter than him by almost a whole head. This wasn’t relevant at all but Niragi would never stop pointing that out. Actually…
“You’re short.” Niragi glared.
“Are you that insecure that you have to rely on comparing physical appearance to other men to feel validation?” Chishiya raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer to have a dick measuring contest next?”
Niragi showed him the middle finger.
“Arisu, you got a ruler by chance?” Chishiya turned to him, completely overwhelming the poor guy. Niragi snorted.
“Don’t start competitions you’re not sure if you win,” Niragi mocked.
Chishiya looked unimpressed. “You’re a guy. You can’t tell me you have never measured. Got a pathetic urge to share with us and approximately three people listening in on this conversation right now?”
“You first.”
Kuina put her glass down with a loud thud, getting everyone's attention. “Everything you say now will be information I’ll never forget even if I bleach my mind so don’t.”
“Agreed,” Usagi said dryly.
“Men.” Kuina said and somehow she made it sound like the worst insult possible. Chishiya whispered something to Arisu who then proceeded to blush even more.
“I WASN’T GOING TO SAY!” Niragi exclaimed.
“Tell yourself that small dicked boy. Actually, back to my previous point, you rather look like you’re here to get dicked down.”
“CHISH. Cut it,” Kuina said and Niragi was pretty sure that if she had a spray bottle with water, she’d spray him like a naughty cat that just ate the curtains or something equally ridiculous.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean!” Niragi hissed.
“Means you’re wearing a mesh shirt and look horny and desperate.”
“I..-”
“He’s saying you look like a hooker.” An supplied.
“Oh. You’re betraying me too now. You know what, have fun everyone, it was nice. Chishiya? Compare dicks with Arisu or something. I bet he’d be into that,” he got up, pretty sure he just caused Arisu’s brain to crash a little.
He hadn’t actually looked around if there was anyone here who looked like his type before getting up. Fuck. He should have looked before. Sitting down again would be weird. In the corner sat an old man. That one was a no. There was a group of women and they were out for obvious reasons. A friend group sat on another table. He couldn’t just go there either. On one of the bar stools without backrest sat a person he assumed to be a guy. He couldn’t see his face. Shit. The only thing he saw was the back of his head or rather the hat.
Niragi looked over to Karube, hoping he’d look back. Their eyes met. Subtly Niragi looked over to hat guy and then back at Karube. Judgement? Is that a yes or a no?
Behind him, Chishiya snorted. Karube seemed to make a show of judging the guy before nodding. Niragi sighed before sliding into the seat next to hat guy. Being the bartender meant Karube regularly had to deal with getting Niragi out of ‘Fuck. He’s secretly a weirdo.’ situations. That was when Niragi suddenly worked at the bar and was needed in the back. In reality he just ditched the person to go through the backdoor. That was a lot easier if the bar was owned by a friend. He hoped hat guy wouldn’t be a weirdo.
On further inspection he looked kinda cute even if he should think about losing the cap. First of all, they were inside a building and secondly..- Was that an oil smear on his cheek?
“Hey. You here alone?” Niragi asked.
Hat guy didn’t seem to realise he was the one being talked to at first. He turned. “Me?”
“No, the cute guy over there,” Niragi said, pointing vaguely in the guy’s direction.
The guy turned around. “There’s nobody sitting there?”
Ah. He was a little oblivious. Well, Niragi had another one. “I meant my friend over there. He thinks you’re cute by the way.” He pointed to the same spot where there was an empty seat next to hat guy before getting up and sitting down on the other side while crossing his legs in one fluent movement.
Instead of blushing or flirting back the guy… laughed? “Okay, you got me. That was funny.”
“That’s me… Fun personified.”
Karube snorted on the other side of the bar. Niragi glared. Karube made a small gesture for him to take the stage. This was actually a bit Niragi was allowed to do exclusively for those reasons. Karube went to sit down with the others.
“Would you like a drink?” Niragi asked.
“I think the bartender just left?” Hat guy said, confused.
“I work here,” Niragi lied. More accurately would have been ‘Karube showed me how to mix three drinks and I work here only to impress someone when convenient because there were few things hotter than buying someone a drink and making said drink was one of them.’
“Oh? That’s so cool! Yeah, I’d like a drink.”
“Will be done,” Niragi jumped over the bar counter when he was sure Karube didn’t look. He didn’t need to get his bar privileges revoked now. That would be counterproductive on his little ‘impress the cute guy’ mission. He could have sworn the guy looked at him in awe for his short display of athletics.
“So, what will it be?” Niragi leaned onto the counter in a way he hoped was sexy rather than awkward. “Cocktail, something more heavy, my name, your name, should I steal the wine, do a flip?”
“Oh, do a flip!” Hat guy said before he realised that that one was a joke.
Niragi laughed. He did not expect that. Hat guy chucked. Fuck. That was a nice laugh.
“Don’t think a flip is safe to do inside here. I must admit, I didn’t mean that one, I can however…” Niragi paused.
“CHISHIYA, LOOK!” He yelled before showing him the middle finger as soon as the blonde bastard glanced over to him. He only saw him roll his eyes before ignoring him again.
Niragi grinned. “Flipped him off. Getting points for effort, aren’t I?”
Hat guy made a show of thinking before laughing. “Yeah.”
“So, your name?”
“Right! I’m Tatta, pleasure to meet you.”
“Tatta. Fits you. I’m Niragi but you may call me whatever you’d like,” he winked. “You could also take off that cap so I can see your pretty face properly,” he added casually.
To his surprise instead of casual banter back and forth, Tatta took off the cap.
“Damn, you’re breathtaking,” Niragi said before he could stop himself. He cleared his throat. He didn’t mean to say that out loud but what was said was done.
“You’re lying.” Tatta said, wholly unaffected by Niragi’s accidental compliment. Huh?
“I’ve been at work for hours. I’m sure my hair looks like a mess. I wore the cap for a reason, you know.”
“Let me guess. A mechanic?"
Tatta seemed surprised. “How did you guess that.”
Niragi smirked. “Oh, you just have this energy that makes me think you’d be good with your hands.”
“Thanks I guess?”
Niragi blinked. Aw, come on, that one was good!
“You also got some oil on your cheek,” he added.
Finally Tatta’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Oh..- Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk around all dirty, I didn’t notice.”
Niragi leaned closer. “I don’t mind a little dirty. I vote for stealing the wine by the way, do you wanna get out of here?” He whispered.
“Will you actually be stealing?” Tatta questioned.
Niragi squinted before making an educated guess on what kind of person Tatta was. “No.”
“Good,” the ray of fucking sunshine in front of him smiled. Niragi couldn’t describe it any other way. Niragi subtly pocketed one of Karube’s wine bottles. On their way out someone whistled. He was pretty sure it was Chishiya messing with him just because he could. He’d never acknowledge this because it was too funny though. Chishiya couldn’t whistle properly and Niragi was delighted every time he heard him fail.
Tatta’s eyes widened when he saw the motorcycle. “I don’t live far, if you don’t want to drive we can walk or..-” “CAN I DRIVE?!”
“Eh. What? I mean, can you?” Niragi was a bit caught off guard.
“I don’t know. I can drive a car. I can also repair a car. I feel like that qualifies me?”
“The thing that qualifies you is called a driving licence for bikes, ideally,” Niragi said dryly.
“Then I’m not qualified.”
“Backseat you go then,” Niragi took his spare helmet and placed it onto Tatta’s head.
“Ever been a passenger?”
Tatta shook his head.
“Short version, feet go here. They stay there. Hands can go onto my arms as long as you give me enough movement. The edge of the seat, grabbing my jacket or around my waist is okay too. When we make a turn the bike will lean slightly. You won’t be as stiff as a stick and you won’t try to lean against the turn or any acrobatics either. Under no circumstance will you lean further than me. Don’t try to do what I’m doing. If you concentrate on that you’ll do it too late. I recommend you hold onto me rather than somewhere on the bike so if you relax you’ll automatically do what I’m doing. Clear?”
Tatta nodded confidently.
“Good,” Niragi swung his leg over the motorcycle. “Now you. Don’t do what I just did. Just step anywhere. You can’t really break anything except your own bones if you meet the asphalt more intimately.”
Tatta snorted. “Got it. No intimate meetings.”
“With the asphalt,” Niragi added playfully. Tatta seemed to have no hesitations about holding onto his waist which was a nice change for once. At least he didn’t have to worry about losing him somewhere on the way because he was touch shy in the wrong situations.
Niragi unlocked the door to his apartment, fumbling with the keys. He shut the door behind them. Tatta just stood there, looking at him. He probably didn’t do this often then. Niragi reached for the helmet, taking it off his head. He reached up to put it onto the higher shelf.
“Damn, you’re tall. Thought we were almost the same height.”
“I just got ridiculous arms,” Niragi joked.
“I’m sure they are nice arms,” Tatta shrugged.
“Nice hands attached to them too,” Niragi said seductively, letting one of his hands wander to Tatta’s waist.
Tatta huffed out a laugh until suddenly his eyes widened. “Are you flirting with me?!”
Niragi pulled away his hand as if burnt. “Depends?”
“Depends on what?”
“What did you think I was doing?” Niragi asked as calmly as he could. Shit, he thought he had been crystal clear.
“I thought you were being friendly.”
“Then that’s what I was doing.”
Tatta didn’t believe that for one second. “You were flirting with me…- Oh my god. Hold up. I’m in your apartment. Did you think we’d..-” Tatta seemed to be panicking slightly.
“Calm down, yes, that was my assumption but in my defence, you were in an lgbtq bar. I made you a drink, you accepted.”
“I thought you were being friendly! I also didn’t know that it was an lgbt bar. Not that I mind. I’m an ally.”
Oh great. Only a straight person would call themselves an ally. Pretty boy was straight. That was just his luck.
“Darling. If someone calls you pretty, offers you a drink and then takes you home you can 100% be sure they were flirting.”
“They could be friendly.”
“In that case, believe me, the one in a million times that happens won’t happen to you before you get into countless of those awkward situations.”
“Oh god, I’m an idiot.”
“Subjective. Now, I’m not holding you here, you are free to unlock the door and leave. Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”
“Oh…” Tatta reached for the door handle. Did he seem sad?
“I mean you can also stay if you want to hang out? I’m not getting any action today anyway and we got one bottle of mediocre wine?” If that was what got him to stay, he could have a glass. Niragi was a bit surprised at his own thoughts.
“Really?!” Tatta spun around again.
“Yeah, sure, why not.”
Yeah, sure. Why not. He could think of many reasons but apparently today was his day to start drinking. Responsibly.
There was a short moment of silence.
“So you’re gay?” Tatta asked.
“Eh..- Yeah? That a problem?”
“Nope.”
Niragi felt the relief. At least that wasn’t a problem. Some straight guys were very sensitive about all of that. Niragi was glad Tatta wasn’t one of them.
They didn’t finish the bottle but it was close. Niragi was a bit concerned because he only refilled his glass exactly once. There wouldn’t be any ‘I accidentally bought a bar’ situations, however they were both at least past the point of being tipsy. Well, Niragi was a bit past tipsy, Tatta seemed to practically live inside his space once his cheeks had a light flush from the alcohol. Not that Niragi minded.
“AND THEN she asked to know my words as if I hadn’t just broken up with her, can you believe it?”
“The audacity,” Niragi commented. “You got a soulmate somewhere?” He asked, alcohol having significantly loosened his tongue too.
“I mean I guess but I don’t want her anyway,” Tatta took another sip, straight from the bottle this time.
“Bad words?”
“Mhm. The worst. You?”
“Don’t think mine’s hurtful at all.”
“Damn, lucky,” Tatta slurred slightly. “I think I should get going.”
“You can stay the night,” Niragi said before he could think twice.
“I could?”
“Wouldn’t want anyone snatching you off the streets.”
“Nobody would snatch me as you phrased it.”
“I did.”
“You picked me up at a bar. That’s different. Also, I didn’t think I could ever add being picked up by a guy to my list of things that happened but here we are.”
“That’s what I’m here for, completing ominous lists people didn’t know existed.”
Tatta laughed. Niragi liked his laugh. It was pretty.
This didn't mean anything.
The next morning Niragi woke up with a suspiciously warm pillow in his arms. Actually, the pillow wasn’t a pillow at all but rather some guy. Some guy in this case was Tatta and Niragi still remembered clearly despite the alcohol. He was glad because that way he didn’t have to wonder about what did and what didn’t happen. In this case nothing happened and yet it seemed like Tatta would get the title of the first person who got to stay the night. After suggesting they should ‘spoon because real bros hug each other’ (that was the wine speaking), they both ended up cuddling in Niragi’s bed.
The body in his arms moved. “Hey,” Niragi said quietly.
Tatta groaned. “My head is killing me. Kill me now.”
“Can’t but how about medication against your headache?” He suggested while getting up.
“Mhm,” Tatta hummed in agreement. “How the hell are you fine?”
“Genetics.” Niragi said before throwing Tatta a package of pain meds to treat his headache. Genetics and the fact that he drank barely anything compared to Tatta. Originally he hadn't even take that wine bottle with the expectation of drinking it. He fully expected to sneak it back into the bar the next day.
Tatta barely had time to process this because 5 minutes later Niragi, a glass of water and some bread appeared in the doorframe. “Here. Drink. Eat.”
“How are you even single.”
“You flatter me too much. How do you take your eggs? Let me guess. Sunny side up?”
“Flipped once but you were close.”
“Dammit.”
“Are we friends now?” Tatta asked when Niragi and basically perfectly cooked eggs appeared in the bedroom.
“I guess?”
“Neat. Does that mean I get to drive the motorcycle?”
“As a passenger unless you dreamt of acquiring a license.”
“Worth a try,” Tatta sighed.
The whole group was immensely confused when Niragi appeared at the bar the next day, bringing the very guy he disappeared with yesterday. Even Chishiya seemed mildly irritated because the count of that happening was zero.
“He’s straight.” Niragi said before anyone could say anything.
“I’m Tatta,” Tatta added an introduction.
“Yeah, that too.”
Niragi and him slid into the empty seats. Everyone was even more confused when Tatta just kept being in Niragi’s space and Niragi didn’t attempt murder. “And people say a soulmate can only be romantic,” Kuina laughed.
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Niragi didn’t laugh. He didn’t think that was funny at all.
Eventually everyone just got used to Tatta weaseling his way into the friend group with his accidental charm as well as being the one to grab onto Niragi’s soft side and not letting that one go.
Of course Niragi knew the objective order of things which led to their first meeting. He knew that the wine making them jump the barrier of hesitation somehow moved his comfort zone right where Tatta was standing instead of moving Niragi out of his comfort zone.
Tatta was a pretty touchy guy and Niragi didn’t mind. They had known each other for almost a whole year now and maybe Niragi still held onto some feelings deep down, sue him. It was hard not to fall for the all consuming brightness that was his personality. It was hard not to fall and Niragi was voluntarily plummeting to the ground. It was okay though. Being called his official best friend was all he needed.
It was only a few letters short of boyfriend anyway and Tatta basically blurred the line even more. Why shouldn’t he cuddle with his friends after all.
Niragi didn’t think about if he was the only one or if Tatta did this with everyone. Unfortunately his mind never considered that Tatta had his friend group and certainly didn’t cuddle with any of the others. Maybe he would have called it best friend privilege. Tatta would have called it the ‘let me drive your motorcycle or I’m withdrawing this privilege’ privilege.
Niragi would have pointed out that he didn’t have a licence and then both of them would have laughed.
He really valued that sometimes it was just them. That Tatta just… got him? He just understood and was genuinely fun to be around. Niragi wouldn’t judge his taste in friends. He just didn’t understand why he was the one Tatta decided to drag onto almost daily morning jogs or visit the cinema with.
Somehow Niragi hoped Tatta wouldn’t find his soulmate because while he seemed to be really hurt by words not even yet said, you’d never knew. Deep down Niragi was afraid someone would take him away from him. Deep down he feared they’d be perfect in ways he wasn’t. That wasn’t fair though.
They were friends. He wasn’t supposed to want him like a lover. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings like this for his straight best friend. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly.
“Pardon? Did you say something?”
“Not at all.”
He’d turn 30 soon. He had thought about asking Tatta if he was still sure he was 100% straight. While Niragi didn’t want to be someone’s experiment, if there was even a glimpse of hope maybe for once in his life he’d take it and ask. It would be a risk.
Or maybe he wouldn’t. Nobody wanted to risk something beautiful like this. Everything was great as it was.
He came to find the aching in his chest to become almost soothing, like bittersweetness accompanying the softness of a touch he wanted to mean so much more. So close and yet so far. Tatta snuggled further into his embrace. They were sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket while watching a movie. The end credits rolled.
“You know, I don’t think I tell you this often enough,” Tatta said. Niragi could practically hear the smile in his voice.
“What is it,” he asked with a softness he didn’t allow around anyone else.
“You’re my dearest friend,” Tatta said proudly.
Niragi felt himself smile. “You’re my best friend too,” he said.
It wasn’t until a few minutes later that his brain caught up with what Tatta had said. It didn't hurt. There were no knives carving into his skin. There wasn’t even the tickle of a brush stroke. Maybe it had been a coincidence. Soul words were meant to hurt and all it made Niragi feel was fuzzy warmth. Maybe it was a coincidence. Words said and yet completely without any deeper meaning because Tatta wasn’t his person.
Later that day Niragi had to notice that most of the space where ink could decorate his skin remained sketched in pencil.
But there was a thin black line...
A thin black line like someone took the finest line pen they could find and carefully traced the words like they didn’t even know they were doing it. Like a doodle on an unimportant piece of paper.
Niragi knew what that meant.
Tatta was his soulmate.
All he could ever wish for and yet nothing at all.
The first time he said the words, they didn’t even hurt. Niragi thought all those people telling stories about being hurt so greatly by something so small were exaggerating. One small sentence wouldn’t make a sapling grow into a tree.
After the tenth time hearing it, he stopped counting because one sentence wouldn’t make a tree grow but enough words might just slowly and gently cultivate a field of flowers inside his lungs.
The first thing Niragi thought when meeting him was that Tatta was breathtaking.
It was a sad irony that he started coughing up sunflowers, tiny petals obstructing his lungs and making him feel breathless a few weeks later. It wasn’t bad though he just had to cut back on the morning walks a little, even if it hurt. Tatta seemed worried about his newfound asthma but Niragi was okay. He was.
He wasn’t like those people who ignored their words because they didn’t want to talk with their soulmate. No.
Niragi loved him. They never stopped talking. He should be fine.
And he could never be mad at him so even Tatta’s sunflowers carried a certain beauty.
His words didn’t need to be addressed because Tatta was Niragi’s soulmate and every time he called him his dearest friend, Niragi felt another thin skribble being added to the sentence that looked like someone obsessed over the words to the point of almost tearing the paper by rewriting them so often. It was fine. The fine tip of the pencil wasn’t digging into his skin yet.
He didn’t need to address it because Tatta was Niragi’s soulmate but Niragi wasn’t Tatta’s.
Because Tatta’s words, whatever they were, were something that hurt him deeply even if they weren’t said yet.
The words would hurt him deeply.
And sadly Niragi wasn’t a woman.
The most important thing though, he would never hurt him.
He would never want to leave him, even if that meant he’d slowly drown in petals of bright yellow flowers. He didn’t want to lose him.
Maybe he didn’t mind losing himself.
Because this was selfless love.
And Niragi’s feelings were none of Tatta’s burden.
They were his alone, just like the taste of metal in his mouth, specks of red on yellow because why did Tatta have to be the biggest and brightest flower there was.
It made sense though.
Because in Niragi’s mind he slowly became the sun.
And maybe Niragi never feared the fire enough not to get burned.