Chapter Text
Shane Hollander really shouldn’t have been surprised that his soulmate is another boy.
He always knew he was different from the other kids in his school. He doesn’t understand sarcasm, or the notion that if a girl is mean to you, it means she likes you (why can’t she just be nice to you then?) He loves hockey a little too much, to the point where his friends get annoyed if he talks about it for too long. This soulmate thing, it’s just something else to add to the list.
What makes it really bad is that when Shane is eight and they first connect, he can’t understand anything his soulmate is saying.
He knows from school that it’s normal for soulmates to connect around this time. He knows that they can’t use proper nouns, including names of people and places, until they get older. When Shane asked his parents what’s going to happen when he gets older, what’s that thing that will let him tell his soulmate his name, they brush him off, “you’re just a kid,” “we’ll tell you when you’re older”. Shane doesn’t bother them much after that, but he still has a million questions.
For now, it’s just why the heck can’t he understand the actual words.
Every so often, there’s static, which must be names that the connection is blocking. But the rest of it still doesn’t make any sense. Like…like it’s foreign.
Of course. Shane is already so different from everyone else, that of course he’d get a soulmate who spoke a different language.
Hi.
But he still wants to try. This is the person who will be with him for the rest of his life, who will understand him better than anyone else will. Who he’ll hopefully fall in love with one day. No use in delaying.
I’m…well, I can’t tell you my name, but I’m your soulmate. We’re soulmates, I guess. No, not I guess, yeah, yeah, we’re soulmates, otherwise we couldn’t talk like this. I heard you talking a few days ago, and I don’t know if you were trying to talk to me, because I couldn’t understand you, and I guess you probably can’t understand me either, but I wanted to say hi anyway. Tell you that I’m here, and I can hear you, and I do wanna talk to you if I can. What language do you speak? Maybe I can learn it. Can you even tell me the name of your language like this? Does that count as a name? Maybe if you just keep talking I can figure out what it sounds like and…like, detective it out or something. I don’t know. Hi. I’m Shane.
He can practically hear the static himself. That was stupid. Why did he say his name? He knows the boy on the other end isn’t going to be able to understand it.
He’s proven right when the boy answers, the relatively low timbre giving away his gender, in some language that’s definitely not English.
It’s not French. Shane speaks enough French by now to recognize it. And he’s heard his grandmother speak Japanese enough times to know that this isn’t Japanese, probably not any other East Asian country. But that leaves about 80% of the rest of the world with nowhere to start.
So they don’t get very far at all. For years. Until Shane is eleven.
Hello.
Shane nearly falls over.
Hello. Hi. I…you speak English.
What?
Oh, sorry, language names count as proper nouns? That’s stupid. I mean, you speak…you speak my language.
No.
But…you’re speaking it right now.
Yes. But…
But?
It feels like a long time before the boy speaks again.
I learn your language. For, uh… The pause is long as he struggles to find the word he needs. For job. Job I want needs your language. Better if I speak your language. So I learn your language. And…
Shane waits, unmoving.
And you. I want learn your language for you… I want you. I want your love. V kontse kontsov. I get it faster if I know your language.
Shane is eleven and still doesn’t fully understand romance, but he thinks this might be the most romantic thing to ever happen to him so far.
You don’t even know me.
I want.
You want to?
Yes.
I want to too. I mean, I want to know you too.
He begins to worry that all the words are sounding the same, that this boy who’s just learning English, notoriously one of the hardest languages to learn, won’t understand him, the things Shane is already feeling for him and hopefully will eventually feel for him.
His eyes catch onto his desk and his brain sparks an idea.
That word. That you used in your language.
V kontse kontsov?
Shane runs to his desk and boots up his computer.
Yes. Say it again. Slower.
He does.
The damn thing takes forever to load, to bring up the search engine he needs. But finally, Shane types in the letters he hears and adds “English” at the end. The internet comes through for him. The phrase means “eventually”. In Russian. His soulmate is Russian.
Shane types carefully into Google Translate. The words don’t look like anything that sounds like something that Shane has heard before from his soulmate. But he reads them anyway, carefully, slowly. Out loud, to make it easier.
Ya polyublyu tebya. So vremenem. Kogda-nibud'. Ya eto znayu.
I will love you. Eventually. Someday. I know it.
Shane never heard anything about feelings being sent through the soulmate connection, only words. But Shane swears he feels warm inside, like his soulmate feels warmed by Shane’s terrible attempt at Russian and wants to convey it.
Maybe Shane and his soulmate have super secret soulmate powers that make them better soulmates than everyone else. That’d be cool.
You…ah…
I know, that was really bad.
No. Not bad. Good. Very good. Makes me happy. You try. You learn. You know language I speak. You…ah…I do not know word.
I figured it out.
Yes, you…that.
Shane laughs, and tries to send that kernel of happiness his soulmate’s way. They shouldn’t be talking about love so soon, he knows that. They’re still kids. Shane’s heard his classmates talk about crushes and holding hands, but never love. He’s heard stories from famous people about soulmates just being friends, not falling in love and kissing and doing all the things that soulmates are typically supposed to do. But those are rare. Most soulmates fall in love eventually, love that’s big and loud and takes up your entire brain and heart, the kind of thing that can only be shared with one other person, the kind of thing that should only be shared with one other person. Shane’s known about it his entire life, has wanted it his entire life. His soulmate making the effort for him to learn English feels like a dream come true. Putting in his own is the least he could do. And his soulmate wanting that same big love, well, the kernel in Shane’s chest heats up and explodes.
The conversation is easy from there. As easy as it can be with the language barrier. Shane tries to type what he wants to say into the computer to translate into Russian, but the sounds don’t feel right on his tongue, so he sticks to English and speaks slowly, trying to get his words across, but also not trying to make it seem like he thinks his soulmate is stupid. It’s a hard balance to keep. But then he remembers something.
Hey, uh, what job do you want anyway? One that needs my language?
Uh…h-hockey? That how you say?
HOCKEY?!?! Shane nearly jumps up from his chair, holds himself back from screaming. You play hockey???
Yes. You?
Are you kidding? I LOVE hockey. I eat, sleep, and breathe hockey. I go to camps for it. I’m gonna play in the NHL one day. Or at least I want to.
Yes. Same. Is why I learn language. But…how you eat hockey? Puck is hard. And dirty.
Shane laughs with his entire chest and explains the phrase. The boy does not seem to be as into hockey as Shane, but loves it nonetheless.
My mother, he says in the middle of their conversation. My mother likes to watch. Watch me. I play for her.
Will she come with you? …here?
Where is here?
You know this stupid soulmate bond thing won’t let me say the country. But…here. A place where you can get a job playing hockey. I mean, I’m sure you can where you are. But…maybe it would be better here? I don’t know.
Everyone says is better to play hockey…where you are. If same place. More money. More players. Maybe my mother would come with me. I do not know. I do not think she likes it here. I do not think I like it here. It would be easy for me to make money somewhere else. Her, no.
Couldn’t you give her money? A lot of players have said they do that for their families.
She would not take it. Want me to have it.
But she would still visit, right?
She would try. Would also be…hard for her to leave.
You don’t want to leave, do you?
I want to leave this place. I want to find you. I do not want to leave her.
Shane has a million more questions now, of what would happen to his soulmate’s mother if he left what Shane imagines is Russia, but the subject feels heavy, the emotions too big for boys so young, the words not there. So Shane deflects.
You’ve gotten a lot better. Just from this one conversation. Speaking my language.
Thank you. Very hard language to learn.
Who’s your favorite hockey player?
Uhh…
Right. No proper nouns. Sorry.
Shane does find out that while his soulmate is dedicated to the sport itself, he’s not as dedicated to hockey culture and statistics as Shane is. Shane asks about facts he knows, certain records, and the boy knows almost nothing. So Shane tells stories, in the limited way he can, and his soulmate listens, Shane can practically hear his smile in the few responses he gives, and it fills Shane up in a way he never knew he was missing.
Things are good afterwards. They’re so good. They talk every day, all day, forgoing sleep, half listening in school sometimes. It’s exciting. The thrill of doing something he shouldn’t. Of having something that feels like a secret. Which, it is, considering he hasn’t told anyone yet, even his parents, that he’s connected with his soulmate, let alone that it’s another boy. They notice, though, watching Shane a little more closely than usual, as he stares at the wall, his shoes, smiling at nothing. He notices them noticing, tries to keep his face as neutral as possible, difficult as he’s learning his soulmate is funny and witty and maybe flirty, at least this is what Shane thinks flirting is. He knows they're the same age, how does a middle school kid know how to flirt? Does he actually know how to flirt, or is he just being nice to Shane? Does this connection they have make every conversation weigh more, make everything feel more meaningful? Is this just all in Shane’s head, a hopeless romantic, thinking all this attention means something? It has to, they’re soulmates. They wouldn’t be here if it didn’t.
Shane is grateful his parents don’t ask questions when they can probably see the cycle moving in his brain almost every single day. They have to know. They must know, it’s normal for the connection to be made in late elementary, early middle school, almost coinciding with puberty. Shane already has enough to deal with in that regard, the hairs in new places, the way none of his pants fit right anymore, the dreams he has of a faceless boy with a Russian accent so close to him, dreams that wake him up into a body that’s stuff and he’s not sure how to fix it. He learns how to deal with that from school, from his friends, from the conversations he overhears in the hallway. A bit from his parents. They beat around the bush, give him pamphlets and little books and try to say they’re happy for him and are here for him and Shane nearly runs away screaming every time, face beet red. But his soulmate is there, steady, getting better at English every day, probably going through the same thing, commiserating about the same problems, the same worries, the same hopes and dreams for the future. Shane loves him. He knows he does. He’s the best friend he’s ever had. But adding the weight of that word onto everything else they’re going through feels like too much, so he doesn’t say anything. He’s still not sure if feelings are felt through the bond, but every so often, he’ll send the warmth, the happiness he feels, he’ll push that out into the universe and hope the boy on the other end can feel it, can understand what Shane is saying without saying it. Sometimes he’ll do it while the boy is talking, and he’ll stop for a moment, and Shane convinces himself that he does, that he can feel it, and that the wave of emotion Shane feels when this happens is him sending those feelings right back.
Shane is twelve when he is rendered motionless by a scream in his head that is not his own.
It sounds like an animal, something wild and untamed and dangerous. It sounds guttural, pulled from the depths of the soul, from the dark places of the heart. It sounds painful. It sounds inhuman, not of this earth.
In Shane’s twelve year old brain, he can recognize that this can only be from his soulmate, but he can only think that it means the boy is in trouble.
What happened??? Shane is practically screaming back. Are you okay??? What’s wrong??? Please answer me. I need to know you’re okay, that you’re not hurt.
But he’s just met with more screaming. Heavy breaths, like he can’t get enough air in.
And then it turns to crying. So much crying.
He probably doesn’t even realize he’s sending all of this, Shane thinks. He probably can’t even hear Shane calling out for him over so much anguish, something tearing him up so deeply from the inside. And hopefully not the outside. Shane is frozen in fear for what could be happening to his soulmate. He wants to know so badly, but knowing might break him too, and then who would save him?
Shane stares forward, pinned down by the cries. Nothing he hears is coherent. Until one word finally is.
MAMA!!!
Something happened to his soulmate’s mom. His mom, who he plays hockey for, who wants to see him in the NHL, who may not be able to now.
The word pierces Shane’s heart, stings his eyes. He immediately assumes the worst, and based on the way the screams aren’t letting up, he’s terrified he might be right. He still doesn’t speak–he can’t, there’s no point, nothing will get through to his soulmate in this state. He doesn’t know if the communication they have is strictly verbal or if feelings go through as well–they must, there’s no way his soulmate would tell him all of this willingly, especially in the moment, when there’s so much horror. So Shane sends feelings back–happy ones, the sound of the school bell ringing on a Friday afternoon, the burst of cold lake water on his hot skin in the summertime, a soft blanket.
A comforting rub on the back. A hug. A hand in his hair. A kiss on the forehead.
Obviously, Shane has no basis for what his soulmate looks like, can’t quite imagine the texture of his hair as Shane runs his hands through it, the color of his skin as Shane kisses his forehead. But he pictures peace and warmth and pushes it out as hard as he can to the point where he nearly gives himself a headache.
And maybe Shane is imagining it, but he thinks the cries begin to subside.
Eventually, they cut off completely. Once again, Shane’s brain jumps to the worst possible outcome, that the same thing that happened to his soulmate’s mother happened to him. Shane tries to reason with himself, maybe the boy finally calmed down, maybe the boy got distracted by something else, maybe he realized he was sending everything and cut himself off.
But then he doesn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. Or the next one. Or the one after that.
Shane reaches out constantly, but is met with complete silence. The days turn to weeks, eventually into a full month with no contact, and Shane begins to spiral that something bad has actually happened to his soulmate. His parents notice, and Shane deflects for as long as he can, which makes the spiraling worse. Eventually, they sit him down and, as gently as they can, force everything out of him. And Shane spills. He’s been connected to his soulmate for four years now, it’s another boy, he won’t talk to him, Shane’s terrified something bad happened to him and he has no way of knowing. Shane’s parents are understanding of what is essentially a coming out moment, but have no advice for him on what to do. There’s nothing to do, they say, except to reach out and offer support, but Shane has been trying so damn hard and nothing, and Shane cries for what might be the eighth day in a row, he stopped counting.
It’s a random Thursday, a month and a half after that scream tore Shane’s world apart, when his soulmate comes back to him.
Hi.
Shane is in the middle of taking a shower. He nearly collapses onto the tile, knees buckling, bracing his hands on the wall like he just got punched. He stops breathing. And then he immediately worries that he’s taking too long to answer and now maybe his soulmate is worrying about him being okay and oh god, what does he say, and he’s thinking too much and now taking even longer to answer.
He turns the water to ice cold. Gives him something else to focus on for a second before getting his brain back on track.
Hi, hi, oh my god, you’re okay, holy crap.
Am I?
Are you?? I’ve been reaching out for over a month and you haven’t answered me. I was making myself sick with how scared I was, for you.
Yes, I know. I heard you. I’m sorry I did not answer. I’m very sorry. I missed you. I wanted to talk. But I could not. To you, to anybody. It has been very hard for me recently.
I…I know. Well, I don’t know. Not exactly. But…I heard you screaming for your mother. I heard you crying.
Oh…
So I know something happened. I just don’t know what. Because you didn’t tell me. Which I’m not mad at you for, especially if something did happen, but you wouldn’t talk to me and I got scared that something happened to you and I wasn’t going to talk to you again or meet you ever or…
Fuck, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Now Shane is crying in the shower, and he’s freezing, so he turns the water back up to warm, but that doesn’t stop the emotions flooding through him, the relief.
Solynshka. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to ignore you. I promise, I swear. I…
No, wait, I’m sorry, I’m making this about me, I shouldn’t be. Please tell me you’re actually okay.
I…Yes. But also no. I am not hurt. Well…yes, I am. Fuck. I do not have right words.
Will you at least tell me what happened?
My mother. She…
The silence stretches. The water in Shane’s shower goes cold. He hears some sniffling and turns the warmth back up, trying to send the feeling of it through.
My mother is dead.
Oh God. It is the worst. He’s relieved for about a hundredth of a second that his soulmate isn’t physically harmed, but he understands how hard it must have been to parse through the hurt, to find the words to describe it.
I’m so sorry.
Nothing. Shane continues.
Do you want to talk about it?
This silence is shorter. The calm before the storm, the flood.
She was sad. I know she was sad. My father is not nice. To both of us. But is different for us. Me, he wants me to be good all the time. I try to be good all the time. Never enough. Not good enough, ever. But my mother…I am good enough for my mother, she tells me all the time. But he is so hard to her. Thinks things that are not true, could never be true. She tried to make him understand, see the truth, but he never did. He got angry. Hurt her. Hurt me, too, sometimes, when I wasn’t good enough. I do not like it, never have, but I get through it. I am strong. My mother…she is not weak. I know she isn’t. But she was so sad. He made her so sad. I hated seeing her sad. I hate now…that her sadness took over everything. Took her away. Made her think it would be better if she left everything, if she left me. It’s not, it’s not better, everything is terrible, I have to face him alone, for the rest of my life.
You don’t. Shane tries, but the crying starts, and Shane sinks to the wet floor, each sob piercing a new hole in his heart.
He will not even say what happened. Not to me, not to anyone. It was an “accident”, everyone thinks it was accident. It was not accident. You do not “accidentally” swallow a bottle of pills. You do not “accidentally” find the empty bottle next to a dead woman in your own house.
You…you found the bottle?
Yes. But also I…
Shane can practically feel the force his soulmate is using to drudge the words up. He knows what he’s going to say. And when he does, the holes in his heart become caverns.
I found her.
The words sound empty, like they’ve sucked the life out of the boy. Shane feels empty hearing them. He can’t think of anything to say. Nothing he says will bring his soulmate’s mother back. So Shane is silent, listening to his soulmate continue to cry until it eventually peters out and he calms himself down. Shane can tell this time that it’s what it is, a steady decline, not abrupt like last time. Surprisingly, his soulmate speaks first.
Thank you.
For what?
For…listening. For staying.
Shane can’t help but laugh. You’re not getting rid of me. Ever. You know that. We’re stuck like this.
You make it sound like it’s bad thing.
It’s not. The opposite actually. I–
Shane almost says it. He can’t. He’s twelve years old, for crying out loud, he doesn’t know what love is. The kind of love that soulmates are supposed to have for each other, he can’t already be feeling that, can he? Is that what this is? Is this what it feels like? His hollow heart at his soulmate’s sadness, a pain he knows will be cured when he knows his soulmate is smiling again? The best part of his day being just talking to him, existing in this third imaginary space with him? The fact that he couldn’t imagine being this close, this connected to anyone else but him?
Hmm. Maybe.
I believe you, he says instead. I believe you that it wasn’t an accident, that it’s wrong to lie, it hurts to lie, it hurts that this happened. But you have to know you’re not alone, right? I didn’t mean we’re stuck like this like it’s a bad thing. I meant that I will always be here for you, with you, no matter what, not because I have to be, but because I want to be. You’re my best friend. I can’t wait to meet you someday and…do all the things that soulmates do. But like, if I could, right now, I’d come over to your house with boxes of pizza and gummy worms and we’d play video games and eat everything until we threw up.
Laughter wrings out, and Shane’s shoulders relax. He didn’t even realize they were tense.
I obviously like it a lot when you’re happy. But I don’t not like it when you’re sad. I mean, I don’t, but I’m not going to not deal with it. As your soulmate, that’s probably my job, right? To make you feel better when you’re sad? To do the best I can at it from here, and to do an even better job at it when we’re together? I don’t wanna say all the cheesy shit like “it’ll get better with time,” “she’s in a better place,” blah blah blah. But I’ll listen to you whenever you wanna talk about it, about her, about anything. I’ll take that responsibility. I want to. I…I really care about you. A lot. I hope you know that.
I do.
But then his soulmate is crying again, and after a few heavy sobs is flooding words at him, this time all in Russian, and now Shane is starting to get overwhelmed. When he’s done, Shane finally turns off the shower and towels off.
You know I didn’t understand any of that, right?
I know. Maybe I can teach you some? Since you helped me with your language?
Shane brightens. Yeah, I’d love that.
Ok. I want you to know last thing I said in all of that.
Ok. What was it? It kind of all meshed together.
Ya tebya lyublyu.
Shane furrows his brow in the mirror, confused why he’s starting with something so complicated, but tries it. Fails miserably. Asks his soulmate to say it again, slower. The boy walks him through it, until Shane can send something back that’s acceptable.
What does that even mean? What did you make me say?
You said…
This pause feels infinite.
You said “I love you”.
Oh.
I love you?
Yes.
That’s what you said to me.
Yes.
Oh.
Maybe it is that easy. Maybe Shane can say it.
Ya tebya lyublyu.
Yes. Good.
I do, you know. Love you. I love you.
God. God, I love you.
Shane can’t help but smile.
Will you tell me what else you said? You said a lot.
No. My secret.
Will you teach me?
Maybe someday.
Will you remember it all?
Yes. I promise.
Unbeknownst to Shane, somewhere in Russia, a twelve year old Ilya Rozanov grabs a pen and writes everything down.