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Zeke thought, objectively, he might have the worst luck in the world. Because really, who needed soulmates? He didn’t need some stupid mark on his arm to tell him who he loved. And besides, how reliable was the entire system, anyway? Lots of people never found their supposed soulmate, and they ended up perfectly happy. The idea that the words tattooed on his arm on his thirteenth birthday would somehow lead him to the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with was just stupid.
Zeke knew who he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He knew from the first day of kindergarten, when Mylene stood up in front of the class and sang her favorite hymn as if she were singing at a concert. He knew when he first played piano for her, when she first looked at him like maybe he could be something more than just a neighborhood kid, when they first kissed. He used to spend hours agonizing over what her first words had been to him, going over every syllable he could remember and praying that they would be something obvious. But he was sure he would recognize her words on his skin. Everything about Mylene was extraordinary; her words would be the same.
But try as he might, he couldn’t quite convince himself that her first words to him had been, “Hey. Motherfucker!”
When his aunt had seen, she’d yelled at him like it was somehow his fault that his soulmate had a dirty mouth. She’d made him put band-aids over it, and then made him promise not to fall in love with someone who was obviously such a bad influence. And Zeke couldn’t do anything but nod miserably, because the universe couldn’t just leave it at denying him Mylene. It had to give him a soulmate who sounded like they hated his guts.
Mylene wouldn’t tell him who hers was, or if she even knew. She just wrapped a scarf around her wrist, and when one of the boys tried to pull it off, she hit him so hard that Zeke swore he could still see the red mark for weeks. Mylene didn’t seem to care about soulmates, anyway. She was going places, and any soulmate would just have to wait until she was the queen before they showed up. And when they did show up, they better be king.
Zeke figured maybe it was for the best that he and Mylene weren’t soulmates. After all, this way he could just earn her love the old fashioned way. He wouldn’t ever have to worry that maybe she was just settling for him because the universe said so; he’d win her heart through piano and poems and records.
And that was the real problem: the record. Because he could wear a band around his wrist and forget the words; he could play Mylene’s accompaniment and write her a million poems, but none of that would matter if he couldn’t get the Pakoussa.
That was how Zeke ended up here, desperately searching for the key to Mylene’s heart. The heat of the shop seemed to weigh down on him as he ran his hand over the records, scanning each title in quick succession as he flipped through them. Soul Tracks, Milton Wright- and there it was: his salvation. Zeke snatched the record up, running his hands over the red album cover and scanning the title. Misty Holloway, Far, Far Away, Pakoussa remix. And there, just above the title: Promotional Copy. Not for sale.
Zeke flipped the record over, trying to bite back his disappointment. It didn’t matter; he would find a way to buy it. He could make a deal, pay extra, anything he needed to do as long as he got that record.
The sudden sound of shouts and whooping pulled Zeke from his thoughts, the relative calm of the store broken as a group of savage warlords barged in. Zeke slipped back, pressing himself against the wall and out of sight as the boys began to threaten the shop owner, their shouts overlapping as one of them shoved a contract into the man’s face. Zeke peered forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the commotion, when someone yanked the record from his hands.
Zeke spun around and the world stopped for a moment, time suspended in a single instant as he met the thief’s eyes, his breath frozen in his chest. And then the universe burst back into motion, the boy tearing his eyes away and dashing out of the store, carrying with him Zeke’s one chance to win Mylene.
The warlords were after him in a second, and Zeke was only a moment behind them, dashing after the shouting group and praying he could reach the record in time. There was no way he was letting the thief get away from him. They wove through the streets, dodging around pedestrians and jumping over cars, a ragged parade of shouting, machete-wielding boys.
Zeke didn’t know how long he chased after them, only that his lungs were burning and he had lost sight of the boy and the savage warlords by the time he rounded the edge of the burning building. And there, as if fate itself had decided that Zeke deserved the record, was the thief, dangling from the edge of the building by a single hand.
Time seemed to slow as the boy grunted, the record slipping from his hands and floating to the ground beside Zeke like some rare feather. Zeke picked it up almost absentmindedly, his eyes still fixed on the boy trying to haul himself back onto the roof. He kicked out wildly, his arms straining as he scrambled over the edge and back to safety, instantly turning around to stare down at Zeke.
The shouts of the other boys faded as their eyes met once more, the strain from running and something else burning in Zeke’s chest. He forced himself into motion, grabbing his books and tearing his eyes away from the other boy as he turned to run back down the alley. He had to remember Mylene; all of this was for Mylene.
“Hey!” the boy shouted. “Motherfucker!”
Zeke ignored him, speeding up as he dashed away.
“Motherfucker!” The boy shouted after him, his voice rising with panic and anger. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
His voice faded as Zeke got farther away, mixing with the taunts from the warlords until Zeke could no longer make out his shouts of anger. It was only when he was back on the street that the boy’s words sunk in.
Zeke had the worst luck in the world. But he also had the Pakoussa, and it didn’t matter what some thief had shouted after him. He had the Pakoussa, and soon he would have Mylene, and that was all he cared about. Zeke tightened his grip on the record, squared his shoulders, and began the walk back to Ra-Ra, ignoring the words burning a hole through his wrist. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.
---
Apparently the universe had noticed that Zeke had finally caught a break for once, because it immediately set about rectifying its mistake. The bouncer had barely looked at him before telling him to get lost, and no amount of pleading could change his mind. Zeke was almost crying by the time the bouncer threw the record into the street, running after it and desperately trying to wipe off the smudges as if that would somehow gain him entry.
Everything was falling to pieces. If he couldn’t get into the club, he couldn’t give the DJ the record, and if he couldn’t give the DJ the record, Mylene would never-
“Yo!”
Zeke spun around, his eyes falling on the boy from before storming towards him, his face a mask of fury.
“Where’s my record?”
“Right fucking here,” Zeke snarled, desperation and disappointment blending together until all that was left was anger.
The boy paused, nearly stumbling as he came to a stop just in front of Zeke. “The fuck did you just say?”
“I said it’s right fucking here! You gonna steal it again?”
Any uncertainty in the boy’s expression was gone as he lunged forward, grabbing Zeke by the collar and dragging him forward. “You better shut your mouth before I-”
“Yo, Shao!” the bouncer shouted. “Take that shit around the corner, man.”
The boy, Shao, shoved Zeke away, stepping back and shaking out his arms. “Fine with me. Come on, little man, come around the corner.”
“I go around, I’m gonna knock you to Sunday, wait for you on Tuesday,” Zeke snarled as he stormed after him, rational thought left far behind as he followed him to the back of the building. He would get in that club if he had to fight his way through every motherfucker in the joint.
Shao was already shrugging off his jacket, the headlights of a passing car briefly illuminating him as he began to slash at the air and shout wildly. Zeke set aside the record and raised his hands hesitantly, watching Shao do something that looked like a cross between karate and a seizure.
“What the fuck you doing?” he demanded.
Shao ignored him, jabbing the air a few more times as he inched closer. “Yo, I’m gonna give you one last chance to give me this fucking record.”
“Why, I thought you was gonna kick my ass.”
“You know who you’re talking to?” Shao demanded.
“Why you want the record so bad?”
“None of your damn business. You know I’ll fucking kill you without fucking blinking?”
“Then kill me, cause this record’s for my girl and you ain’t fucking getting it!”
Something in Shao’s expression seemed to snap and he lunged forward, slamming Zeke into the wall of the alley and shaking him. “Your girl worth your life? This record worth your life?”
“You don’t understand; this record’s her favorite! I gotta go in that club, get the DJ to play this record, and imma win her heart back; that’s exactly what imma fucking do!”
“You and your girl, you in love?” Shao laughed, shaking his head and spitting at Zeke’s feet. “You soulmates?”
“We don’t need to be!”
“Yeah, I bet you don’t. Bet your girl’s soulmates with every guy who looks at her twice-”
“Don’t talk about her like that!” Zeke shouted, shoving Shao back.
Shao slammed Zeke back against the wall, a knife suddenly in his hands as he dug it into Zeke’s throat. “I don’t got time for this shit. Your life, or the motherfucking record! You choose.”
“Kill me,” Zeke forced out. “I’m in love, man.”
“Man, you don’t know shit about love!” Shao shouted, his fist connecting with Zeke’s cheek in a brutal punch as both boys fell to the ground, locked in a desperate struggle.
The knife lay forgotten on the ground as they wrestled, fingers scrabbling over skin as each fought for the upper hand. Zeke bit down on a hand that flew too close to his face and was rewarded with a satisfying yell, but Shao retaliated by slamming his head into the ground and for a second all Zeke could see was stars. Shao rolled until he was on top, his knees squeezing around Zeke’s chest as he wrapped a hand around his throat.
“Oh, you real bad, now,” he snarled, pressing down just hard enough to leave Zeke gasping for air. “Your girl gonna save you? Your love gonna save you?”
“Fuck you,” Zeke choked out.
“Nah, man, fuck you. Acting like you superior or some shit just because some girl’s pussy got you tripping.”
“It’s not like that! My girl and I are for real!”
“Yeah? You got her words on your wrist?” Shao let go of his neck, leaning back to look Zeke up and down. “Maybe I should check, huh? See what your girl said to get you so whipped.”
“Don’t!” Zeke shouted, but Shao was already grabbing the band around his wrist and whipping it away, pinning his hand to the ground with an iron strength.
For a few, agonizing moments there was nothing but silence, both boys frozen as Shao’s eyes ran over the words again and again. Shao opened his mouth and then closed it, his gaze locked on Zeke’s wrist and his expression unreadable.
“It don’t mean shit,” Zeke croaked out as the silence became unbearable. “You’re not- anyone could have-”
“Shut up,” Shao interrupted, his voice shaking.
Zeke strained against Shao’s grip, trying to wrench his wrist free. “This don’t mean anything,” he insisted, trying to convince himself as much as Shao. “It’s just a coincidence; your words would-”
“Right fucking here,” Shao whispered.
Something in Zeke’s chest was twisting and spiraling until he couldn’t catch his breath, the world spinning around him. “What?”
“My words. ‘Right fucking here’.”
“It’s a mistake,” Zeke whispered, his breath catching as he tried desperately not to panic. “It’s a mistake; our words got mixed up- we aren’t- I’m not-”
Shao let out a broken laugh. “You ever hear about the words making a mistake, man?”
“It’s a mistake!” Zeke shouted, and maybe his anger gave him strength, or maybe Shao just wasn’t expecting it, because this time when he lunged forward Shao fell back with him, and now Zeke was on top, his fists and mind flying with a speed he didn’t know he had.
Shao recovered from his shock in an instant, clawing at Zeke’s face and grabbing a handful of his hair, yanking his head down so that Zeke’s chin collided with the concrete with a sharp crack. Zeke did his best to roll with the momentum, only now Shao was on top, his knees digging into Zeke’s chest.
“Get off,” Zeke grunted, bucking his hips to try and throw Shao off, but Shao just pressed down harder, one hand digging into his shoulder as the other rose up in a fist.
Zeke kicked again, his legs tangling with Shao’s as the older boy fell down on top of him, their chests colliding with a force that nearly knocked the air out of Zeke’s lungs. Zeke opened his mouth, to shout or cry or bite, but it didn’t matter because suddenly Shao’s lips were on his, and Zeke wasn’t sure when they’d stopped fighting, or maybe they hadn’t stopped at all, all he knew was that Shao’s hands were in his hair and he was pulling Shao closer instead of pushing him away.
Shao kissed like he was drowning, like he might die at any moment and he couldn’t be bothered to waste time on being gentle. Zeke fisted a hand in his shirt and pulled him in, his mouth open in a gasp as Shao used his grip on his hair to tilt his head back. His head was spinning, or maybe the world was spinning around him, and Shao was the only anchor he had.
Shao was the first to break away, gasping for breath and looking slightly dazed. “Shit, man.”
Zeke panted, wanting to pull away yet finding himself unable to muster up the strength to move. “I don’t- I’m not-”
Shao silenced him with another kiss, pulling back to grin at him and wet his lips with something that might have been nervousness. “Shit, man,” he repeated. “Don’t even know your name.”
“Zeke.”
“Zeke,” Shao repeated, and there was something so soft in his eyes that Zeke had to look away. “I’m Shaolin Fantastic.” He paused, a grin tugging at his lips. “The lady-killing romantic.”
“I’m not a lady.”
“And I’m not romantic. Guess we’ll have to learn to live with each other.”
This time it was Zeke who pulled him in, at a loss for words for the first time he could remember. Shao followed him easily, a grin on his lips as they came together once more. And for once, Zeke decided, his luck really wasn’t that bad after all.