Work Text:
Deep inside the silence
Staring out upon the sea
The waves washing over
Half forgotten memories
Deep within the moment
Laughter floats upon the breeze
Rising and falling dying down within me
He hadn’t always been this jaded. Once upon a time Athos had fervently believed in love. He had wanted to be in love and had looked forward to meeting his soulmate. He had been happy and optimistic; someone who would be happy to be in love but times changed. He no longer believed in having a soulmate.
It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to know your soulmate by their name on your wrist. Then you would meet them and it would be happy every after. Sometimes it didn’t happen that way. Sometimes the name was hard to read, faded away or, as in Athos’ case, only a few letters had appeared. Only an A and an N had appeared on the inside of his wrist so when he had met his wife he had assumed they were soulmates. Anne was almost perfect or so he thought. Looking back years later after everything had happened Athos realised that it was all bullshit. Soulmates didn’t exist.
D’Artagnan had spent his entire life waiting to meet his soulmate. He had grown up hearing wonderful and romantic stories about soulmates and he couldn’t wait to finally meet his. For as long as he could remember he’d had the name Athos imprinted on his wrist. Every person he met he hoped they would be Athos but they never were. His mother had told him about when she had met his father and she had instantly known they were soulmates without ever having seen the name on his wrist. D’Artagnan dreamed of that day.
He didn’t meet his soulmate until he left the sleepy little village he had spent his entire life and headed towards the big city. He had met Athos on his very first day and in that moment it felt like a lightning strike had hit him. He felt dizzy and then he knew. This man was his soulmate.
It was an instantaneous feeling and it left him in no doubt. That night he looked at the mark on his wrist and smiled.
Athos, on the other hand, had become far too cynical to feel the shock between them. Yes, he had felt something but it had been dulled by years of drinking too much so felt like little more than a static electric shock. It had been easy for him to deny that it had ever happened. Soulmates didn’t exist, he had convinced himself. There was no such thing.
Weeks passed and d’Artagnan managed to seamlessly integrate himself into the lives of Athos and his friends, Aramis and Porthos to the point where it felt like he had never not been a part of their group but d’Artagnan still hadn’t approached Athos to tell him he thought they were soulmates. He had learned very quickly that Athos was not someone he could tell easily. He was emotionally distant a lot of the time and whenever Aramis started talking about love or romance or soulmates Athos would dismiss him. D’Artagnan was too scared to tell him outright so one day he decided to broach the topic of soulmates in general to the older man.
He found Athos sitting in his favourite bar one night after having drunk a couple of glasses of wine but not so much that he was incomprehensible. D’Artagnan thought this was the perfect time to talk to him.
“Athos,” he smiled in greeting. Athos smiled back and the younger man felt his heart flip. Athos never seemed to laugh but his rare smiles were enough to brighten d’Artagnan’s day.
“D’Artagnan, how are you?” He asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just going to get a drink. I’ll be back in a moment,” he definitely needed some dutch courage for this situation. As he ordered his drink at the bar he nervously tugged at the sleeve of his shirt, momentarily running his fingers over Athos’ name on his wrist. After he had paid the barman he took his drink and sat down at the table opposite Athos. “Where are Aramis and Porthos tonight?” Although it was not unusual for Athos to drink alone it was more common to find at least one of his friends with him in case he drank too much.
“Aramis is working tonight. I’m not sure about Porthos. Anyway, I’m not too bothered. Aramis won’t shut up about soulmates at the moment and it’s really beginning to get on my nerves.”
This was seemingly the perfect time to talk to Athos about it. D’Artagnan took a deep breath and replied, “you’re not a fan of soulmates then?” He asked nervously.
Athos snorted. “I don’t believe in them.”
D’Artagnan felt his stomach sink. “Why not? I’ve been thinking of meeting my soulmate for as long as I can remember.”
“I thought I had met my soulmate once but it was a lie,” Athos told him; his voice cold and emotionless. “The full name never developed on my wrist so when I met her I thought it was her. We fell in love and it was so perfect but then it all fell apart. She was never my soulmate.”
D’Artagnan tried to recover the conversation. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t meet your true soulmate one day.”
“I don’t want to,” Athos said bluntly. “It’s all bullshit. Soulmates don’t exist. We’re all so conditioned to believe that there is one person in the world we are destined for but that’s not true. It just keeps us in our place. If we think in something as childish as soulmates then we aren’t complaining about other things. It keeps us quiet. Then we spend years and years searching for them. We’re told that we instantly know who they are but that never happened to me. I thought I’d met my soulmate and all I ended up with was a dead brother.”
D’Artagnan didn’t know what to say. He had spent his life waiting to meet the person whose name was on his wrist and this person was now stating that he didn’t believe in or want a soulmate. He felt crushed.
“And even if I did have a soulmate,” Athos continued, “I would hate them.”
“Why?” D’Artagnan asked quietly. He could almost feel his heart breaking.
“Because of whoever it was supposed to be I chose the wrong woman and she killed my brother. I blame them for that.”
Desperate to run away so he could cry alone d’Artagnan stood up. “I think I need to go,” he said and left before Athos could say anything else.
He ran back to his flat and locked the door behind him. He was distraught. In all his dreams he had never imagined that meeting his soulmate would be like this. He had dreamed they would meet, fall in love and everything would be perfect. It had been a cold, hard punch in the face to learn that the man he knew was his soulmate not only didn’t believe in soulmates but actively hated his soulmate for the death of his brother. There was nothing d’Artagnan could do to change his mind.
Somehow d’Artagnan had made his way to his bedroom, he couldn’t remember how though it was all a blur, and he had collapsed on his bed crying. He didn’t know how long he had lain there but at some point he had cried himself out and then he just lay there in a daze.
Athos hated him and he didn’t even know it. He didn’t know how to live with that information. The older man was never going to accept him for who he was. They would never be happy.
In a moment of madness d’Artagnan decided that the only thing left to do was to erase Athos’ name from his wrist. If the older man never knew that d’Artagnan was his soulmate then he could never hate him. They could just be friends and nothing had to change. He rummaged around in his drawer until he came across a small penknife. He drew it across his wrist and stared blankly as the blood began to flow. He repeated the movement again and again until he began to feel dizzy.
Then his world went black and he felt no more pain.
-x-
Porthos found Athos sat alone in a bar looking sullen, more so than usual. “You all right?” He asked.
“I think I hurt d’Artagnan,” he replied as he stared into his untouched glass of wine. He hadn’t been able to take a sip since d’Artagnan had practically run away from him. He knew what he had said was wrong but he hadn’t expected the younger man to react the way he did.
“How?”
“He asked me if I believed in soulmates and I was a little harsh with him. I know he believes in all that rubbish and that he’s a hopeless romantic but I think he was a little upset with what I told him. He just ran.”
Porthos looked at him. He knew that d’Artagnan hadn’t run just because he was upset that Athos had rejected the notion of having a soulmate but because d’Artagnan knew he was Athos’ soulmate. A few weeks earlier, shortly after meeting the young man Porthos and Aramis had taken him out and got him drunk when he revealed the name on his wrist. The two men had been shocked to see Athos’ name there but had promised the younger man they would say nothing. D’Artagnan had been too shy to say anything.
“I have to go,” he said quickly, realising that he needed to check on d’Artagnan. “There’s something I forgot I need to do.”
“All right,” Athos said sadly. “If you see d’Artagnan will you tell him I’m sorry?”
“Will do,” Porthos replied and hurried out of the bar and down the street.
He raced to d’Artagnan’s flat and pounded on the door. “D’Artagnan?” He shouted but there was no response. He banged again. “Open the door!” There was still nothing. He tried to open the door but it was locked. “Damn it,” he cursed to himself before he took a step back and kicked the wood hard. It creaked but didn’t open. He tried again. And again. Finally the lock gave way and the door swung open. He hurried through the flat and to d’Artagnan’s room. Opening the door he felt sick at the sight.
D’Artagnan was lying on the bed, the white sheets stained with the blood pouring from his wrist. A penknife lay next to him.
“Oh no,” Porthos moaned and rushed to the younger man’s side. He checked for a pulse. It was weak but it was still there. Grabbing a shirt from the floor Porthos wrapped it around d’Artagnan’s wrist and picked up the phone.
The young man needed help and fast.
-x-
And I swear I never knew how it could be
And all this time all I had inside was what I couldn't see
I swear I never knew how it could be
All the waves washing over all that hurts inside of me
Even though Athos had no idea what was going on at the time he noticed that a part of him didn’t feel right. He felt lightheaded and dizzy, something he usually only felt after drinking far too much but he was almost sober. It started to get worse so he headed home to lie down. He didn’t know what was happening but it felt as though a part of him was missing, like he was grieving for something that he didn’t even know was missing. The feeling only grew worse as the night drew on and no matter how hard he tried to sleep it off it would not go away. Finally, towards dawn, the feeling settled and he was able to fall into a fitful sleep.
A noise woke him up a few hours later. It was his phone ringing. The uneasy feeling returned and he quickly picked it up. “Hello?” He said.
“It’s Aramis,” he heard his friend’s voice say. “You have to come to the hospital now.”
“Why?”
“Porthos brought d’Artagnan in last night. He cut his wrist.”
“How bad is it?” Athos felt sick. He had been the cause of this, he just knew it.
“It’s bad,” Aramis told him. “He lost a lot of blood. He nearly died during the night.”
“I’ll be right there,” Athos managed to say before hanging up. For a moment he sat on his bed, completely stupefied by what Aramis had just told him. The all of a sudden it hit him and he jumped off his bed and, after throwing on the first clothes he picked up, he grabbed his keys and hurried to the hospital.
-x-
D’Artagnan hadn’t wanted to wake up. He had wanted to stay in this blissful oblivion where he didn’t have to think or feel any pain. It was a quiet place and he just wanted to be at peace. He had no such luck, however.
His eyes seemed to open against his will and he found himself lying in a cold white room. He raised his arm, an act which should have been simple but felt like it was taking all his energy, and saw his wrist encased in a bandage. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes again.
“How are you feeling?” A familiar voice asked. He turned his head and saw Aramis sitting in a chair next to the bed, smiling softly at him.
“I’ve been better,” d’Artagnan croaked. His voice didn’t feel like it was even his. It was almost like someone else was speaking for him. It must be the painkillers he decided.
“You’re doing better. You almost died last night. I thought for a moment we weren’t going to be able to bring you back.” He reached over and ran his hand over d’Artagnan’s bandaged wrist.
“It’s not what you think,” d’Artagnan told him even though every word felt like a chore to say. “I didn’t want to die.”
“Then why cut your wrist?”
“I thought that if it wasn’t there then he would never know,” d’Artagna whispered as a tear fell down his cheek.
Aramis sighed. “Porthos told me what Athos said last night.”
“He hates me.”
“No he doesn’t, I know that for a fact. To him those two letters on his wrist are just a reminder of all the bad shit that’s happened to him. He associates them with his wife, not with you.”
“You didn’t hear him last night.”
“If he knew it was you then he would feel differently. You should just tell him.”
“I never want him to know,” d’Artagnan said and shut his eyes, pretending to fall asleep to end the conversation.
“He’s going to find out sometime,” Aramis told him.
The next time d’Artagnan opened his eyes he felt like shit. His body felt heavy as if it was made of lead and his heart ached. His head pounded and he couldn’t think straight. His stomach turned and he rolled over so he could vomit. He had never felt so alone in all his life.
A moment later he felt someone’s arms around him and he began to feel better. When his breathing had returned to normal he looked up and saw it was Athos who was holding him. The older man looked distraught. His face was pale and drawn; dark circles had taken residence under his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for weeks.
“I’m so sorry,” Athos whispered, his voice shaky as if he might cry at any moment.
“Why?” D’Artagnan asked.
“This is my fault. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
“You can’t help the way you feel,” d’Artagnan replied. “I know that now.”
“Please know that I never meant to hurt you deliberately. Your friendship means too much to me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’d be fine.”
Athos let out a humourless laugh. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Lying in Athos’ arms d’Artagnan felt himself again. He felt whole for the first time in his life. He never wanted this moment to end. He could have stayed there forever but the moment couldn’t last. Eventually a nurse came in and shooed Athos away saying that d’Artagnan needed his rest. After Athos had gone d’Artagnan felt empty again. He felt tired and the ache in his heart returned.
As the days went on d’Artagnan continued to feel worse. He was desolate and inconsolable when Athos wasn’t around. Every movement hurt him and he wanted nothing more than to just sleep until the pain went away. The doctor refused to discharge him from the hospital so d’Artagnan could do nothing more than wait for the couple of hours a day when Athos could come and visit him and lift his spirits.
He knew that he was dying. There was no other explanation for how he was feeling. He felt empty inside when he wasn’t with Athos but he couldn’t tell the older man that he needed him. He didn’t want Athos to hate him. He decided that he would just be content with Athos’ friendship until the inevitable end came. He was ready to die.
Athos was worried. No, it was worse than worry; he felt terrified for d’Artagnan. He was helplessly watching the younger man fade away in front of him and he didn’t know what he could do about it. He wanted to do something, he needed to do something but he was at a loss as how to help.
The younger man didn’t eat. He rarely spoke. He just lay there in a hospital bed and slept or stared blankly at the wall. Athos could see how much weight d’Artagnan had lost; he had never been a large man but he was disappearing at an alarming rate. Not even the doctors knew what to do about him. So Athos went to Aramis.
“Tell me what is wrong with d’Artagnan. I know there is something wrong with him and I don’t know what to do,” Athos’ voice was full of fear.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Aramis said. “I know d’Artagnan is suffering but he won’t talk to anyone about it. He thinks what he is doing is best.”
“But you don’t agree.”
“I think he should talk to someone. He has something to say but he is refusing to say it.”
“Can you talk to him? He might open up to you.”
Aramis sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “You need to tell him how you feel.”
“What?”
“That you love him,” Aramis replied. “He needs to know.”
Athos was shocked. He had never told anyone about his growing feelings for the younger man, convinced that if he didn’t act on them then he wouldn’t be able to have his heart broken again.
“It’s obvious how you feel. I can see it on your face, always have. I know you are wary of love, that you don’t believe in soulmates or romance but you need to tell him. Please tell him.”
“I can’t. He could never be happy with me. I am nothing more than an old drunk. I can’t love him the way he deserves.”
“Maybe if he loves you the way you deserve then you will see that all he wants is you.” Athos didn’t reply. “All right. I will talk to d’Artagnan and see if I can get him to open up.”
“That is all I ask.”
-x-
Beyond this beautiful horizon
Lies a dream for you and I
This tranquil scene is still unbroken by the rumours in the sky
But there's a storm closing in
Voices crying on the wind
This serenade is growing colder breaks my soul that tries to sing
D’Artagnan barely had the strength to open his eyes any longer. Every part of his body hurt. He no longer had the energy to cry. He knew the end was near he just had to wait a little longer.
He barely even acknowledged Aramis as he stormed into his room. “You have to tell him,” he said.
“Please don’t,” d’Artagnan croaked. He didn’t want to have this conversation yet again.
“I am not going to stand here and watch you slowly die. You have to tell Athos that he is your soulmate. You’ll start feeling better I know you will.”
“I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to hate me.”
“He could never hate you, don’t you see? It is hurting him to watch you just give up like this. You need him and he needs you. Just tell him and it will all be all right.”
“I won’t. Please respect that.”
“No. I have respected your wishes but no more. I am not going to let you die so you will tell him or I am going to.”
“No.”
“It’s not your decision anymore,” Aramis said before storming out leaving d’Artagnan alone and feeling worse than ever.
Aramis found Athos sitting in the hospital canteen and approached him. “D’Artagnan is your soulmate,” he said bluntly, knowing there was no time to beat around the bush.
“What?” Athos said in disbelief.
“D’Artagnan is your soulmate.”
“How do you know?”
“Not long after we met him Porthos and I took him out and got him drunk. He showed us his soulmate mark on his wrist. It’s your name.”
“How can that be?”
“He was scared to tell you,” Aramis continued. “He’s known about this since the first time you met but he didn’t know how to bring it up so when you told him you didn’t believe in soulmates he tried to remove your name from his wrist so you would never know.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t want you to hate him.”
Athos opened his mouth to ask why d’Artagnan would think that but then he remembered their conversation. He closed his mouth and shut his eyes, pain washing over him. “I never knew.”
Aramis took Athos’ arm and pushed his sleeve back, revealing his own soul mark. “AN. D’Artagnan,” he said. “That’s who it is. Not Anne. She was never your soulmate. It’s always been him.”
“I told him I would hate him. This is all my fault.”
“Talk to him. Make him see that you don’t hate him. It’s the only way he’s going to survive this. His heart is broken.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Yes you can. You love him and he loves you.”
“That doesn’t mean everything will be all right.”
“It’s a start though. You both have a lot of healing to do and neither of you are ever going to be able to unless you just admit that you love each other. You can do this and so can d’Artagnan. Can’t you just allow yourself one tiny bit of happiness in your life?”
Athos sighed. “I want to.”
“Then do so. Go now before it’s too late.”
Taking Aramis’ advice Athos made his way to d’Artgnan’s room. He found Porthos sitting on the bed holding the younger man as he cried through the pain he was currently in. Athos went over to them. “Let me take over,” he said to Porthos who nodded and relinquished d’Artagnan into Athos’ arms. The younger man instantly calmed.
“Let me know if yeh need anything,” Porthos said before leaving.
Athos held d’Artagnan until the tears stopped and his breathing returned to normal. Already d’Artagnan was feeling stronger. Not knowing how to start the inevitably painful conversation Athos eventually decided on a simple bit of honesty.
“I love you,” he whispered in d’Artagnan’s ear. “Don’t leave me.”
D’Artagnan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The stoic and emotionless Athos was admitting to him that he loved him. He was genuinely shocked. “What did you say?” He managed to speak eventually.
“I love you,” Athos repeated. He pulled back and looked d’Artagnan directly in the eye before picking up his arm. He ran his fingers gently over the bandages. “This is all my fault.”
D’Artagnan opened his mouth to speak but Athos stopped him. “Aramis told me everything. He told me that I’m your soulmate and that you did this because I said that I would hate you. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. Please believe me when I say how sorry I am that I said those things to you.”
“I know.”
“Can I tell you a story?” He asked. D’Artagnan nodded. “Once upon a time there was a man who believed in love. He always imagined the moment he would meet his soulmate. He dreamed that once he did everything would fall into place and he would have his happy ever after but there was a problem. He didn’t know their name. He only had two letters on his wrist so he knew that it would be harder to find whoever it was but he was determined to do so.
“Then he met her, Anne, and he thought that she was the one. Her name almost matched, it included the two letters that had formed on his wrist and so he settled even though he never felt the electric shock that he’d heard everyone talk about when they met their soulmates. He ignored the warning signs because he wanted so desperately to have his soulmate.
“And for a while things were perfect. He was happy and his wife seemed happy but it couldn’t last because at the end of the day they weren’t truly compatible. One day the man returned home to discover that his wife had killed his brother and in that moment he was destroyed. His heart turned to stone and he promised that he would never love again. The pain was too much for him to cope with and he became jaded. He couldn’t let any love in his life because if he did then he would just get hurt again. It was easier to believe that there were no such thing as soulmates because nothing was worth the pain of love.
“The man couldn’t be around everything that reminded him of his old life so he moved and then he met two other men who reminded him of true friendship and eventually he let them both into his heart. He began to heal somewhat but he knew that they couldn’t fully heal him but that was okay because he didn’t want to be fully healed. He could live with that,” Athos paused for a moment before he continued.
“He drank too much. He wanted to drown out the pain because it was better to feel numb but that meant he drowned out the good things as well so that when he met a new man he barely felt the shock. Something had changed, he knew that, but he didn’t know what. Maybe if he’d spent more time being sober he would have realised from the start.
“Anyway, he got to know the new man and he knew that he was falling for him but he was so desperate not to feel that he continued to cling onto the belief that there were no such things as soulmates. He even told the man so and it hurt this man more than he ever realised. He knew that something bad had happened even if he didn’t know what it was. For a few hours it felt like a part of his soul had died and he felt so empty. He didn’t realise that his soulmate had almost died, that he is still dying but now he knows and he is begging his soulmate to live. Please live.”
The tears were flowing down Athos’ face as he begged d’Artagnan not to give up. He looked into d’Artagnan’s eyes to see that they were filled with tears too. He pulled the younger man into a tight hug, never wanting to let him go. “I am so, so sorry.”
D’Artagnan clung onto Athos just as tight as they both cried. He knew that everything was not all right but in that moment it didn’t have to be. He just wanted Athos to keep hold of him. It was like he was keeping d’Artagnan tethered to life and after Athos had admitted that he loved the younger man he wanted to live.
“I love you too,” d’Artagnan cried. “I love you so much. I thought that you hated me so I cut your name because I thought that if you never knew that you were my soulmate then you would never hate me.”
“Please forgive me.”
D’Artagnan pulled away slightly and stared into Athos’ beautiful eyes. “I forgive you,” he said meaning it completely. “I will always forgive you.”
Athos smiled his amazing smile that always made d’Artagnan’s heart skip a beat and leaned in close to kiss d’Artagnan on the forehead.
“Kiss me properly,” d’Artagnan whispered.
“What?”
“I’ve been waiting to kiss you since I met you so kiss me.”
Athos closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips against d’Artagnan’s. Maybe it was because he was sober and without the alcohol to dull his senses he felt a strong jolt of electricity rush through him for the first time. There was now no doubt in his mind that d’Artagnan was his soulmate and instead of the hate he always said he would feel he felt nothing but pure love.
It had never been like that with Anne. Their kisses had lacked that intensity and Athos had never felt electrified when he was around her. This was real. This was how it always should have been. It was pure and exciting and love coursed through his veins. There were some parts of Athos that would never heal but while he was with d’Artagnan it was all a lot more bearable.
They kissed until they were out of breath and, gasping for air, they held each other, never wanting to let go out of fear that they would lose each other. Athos settled on the bed, holding d’Artagnan as they continued to kiss. A nurse tried to tell Athos to leave but d’Artagnan told her that Athos made him feel better. She left them alone.
They were joined by Aramis and Porthos a while later, both men grinning at how much better the other two men looked.
“You look as if you are recovering,” Aramis smiled. “It’s wonderful to see what a little bit of love can do for a person.”
D’Artagnan merely smiled back and buried his head in Athos’ chest. He didn’t feel completely fine yet but he knew he would. The turmoil of the last few days was beginning to recede now that he had Athos and he knew he wasn’t going to ever let him go.
His soul was finally complete and he was at peace.
And there's so many, many thoughts
When I try to go to sleep
But with you I start to feel a sort of temporary peace