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In the olden days, it all came down to a freckle.
Or a birthmark.
Really any distinguishing characteristic that popped up on your body could be pointed at and declared your soul mark. It was a stupid concept, one that had allowed hucksters to make money off of desperate lonely people for centuries.
Soul interpreters were banned now, but in their heyday, they were the final word in happily ever after. Some woman in a turban with a drawn-on mole would convince a young girl that that three moles on her hip were in fact a triangle of destiny that matched her to some man, often one with the means to bribe the interpreter. Then the girl would be married off and wonder why living with her soulmate made her so miserable.
A few soul interpreters had branched into same-sex soul matching, but most had maintained a rigid boy-girl formula that led to increased murder rates and affairs among paired couples.
Will had pointed all that out to Hannibal, for weeks, but the doctor remained resolute that the new soulmate tests were science-based and incredibly reliable. Will would counter with a factoid about soul marks being bullshit. Hannibal would respond with a study in the New England Journal of Medicine. Apparently, some nerd in a lab had identified unique enzyme sequencing that really did match two compatible people. A database was formed in a matter of months. People sending in vials of blood and hoping to find that one true match – the one that would fix all of life’s problems and make them whole.
“We’re already together, what good would the test do?” Will sighed, tossing Hannibal’s latest scientific journal on the table. He hadn’t bothered reading past the headline - Alphabetized List of Recognition Specificities In Enzymes Raises Pairing Certainty to 99.9%.
“It would be a confirmation,” Hannibal said. The doctor had been pushing hard for this test for weeks, and Will had a queasy feeling confirmation wasn’t what he was seeking.
“You really think it’s a bright idea to send the blood of two wanted criminals into a testing laboratory?”
“They won’t be looking at identifiers, only enzyme sequencing.” Hannibal smiled. “I’ve checked, they share no information with CODIS. They wouldn’t want to put off potential customers.”
“You don’t think Jack is trying to get access to that database?”
“We left Jack bleeding out on my kitchen floor, Will. I doubt he’s up to anything more strenuous that sipping his meals through a straw.”
“OK, but what if-”
Hannibal was in front of him before Will could blink. “What if what?”
“What if?” Will’s stomach churned.
“Do you think there will be an if?”
“No.” He hoped there wouldn’t.
“Then I shall counter your what if with why not?”
“Fine.” Will rolled up his sleeve. “Draw your pint of fucking blood.”
“A vial will do, unless you wish me to make that raspberry chocolate pudding later?” Hannibal produced a phlebotomy kit from seemingly thin air.
“I- ow Jesus, some doctor you were.”
Hannibal smiled, as he drew the life from Will’s veins.
When Will returned from his run, he found two padded envelopes resting on the doorstep, labeled SoulSync in bold letters. Will felt cold as he regarded the envelopes, like a snake coiled on the threshold of his happy home.
Still, Hannibal was at the market. At least he could open his without a pair of sharp cheekbones peering over his shoulder.
Will gingerly picked up the envelopes and wandered into the kitchen. He tossed the one labeled Enzo Moretti onto the counter. He moved into Hannibal’s office, where he poured three fingers of the good scotch and started a fire – the chill he had felt upon seeing the envelope had reached his bones.
With a sigh, and a few gulps of peaty alcohol, Will slipped his finger beneath the sealed lip and tore.
Congratulations Mr. McKey, Your Soulmate Is Waiting! Exclaimed the cover of the report. He sneered at the cheery font and tore the page away.
We have the news of a lifetime for you, DANIEL MCKEY , your soulmate is just one number away! As you know our meticulous testing process is 99.9% accurate and accredited by the New England Journal of Medicine, The American Medical Association, The World Health Organization, and Public Health Europe as the first and best source of soulmate matching.
We have carefully tested your blood, then retested the results to find your enzyme sequence. Known in popular cadence as the “soul code”, this unique sequence of enzymes will only be found on one other person in the world. There have been a few rare cases where an enzyme sequence has matched to several others, known as a poly-pairing, and you are NOT one of those individuals. (Note: If your form identifies you as a poly pairing, please be advised that we offer polyamory counseling on our website.)
After submitting your enzyme results to our database with over 28 million active users, we’ve found that you DO have a match. Your match is a female named MOLLY FOSTER .
So you can learn a little bit about your soulmate, SoulSync has prepared a brief summary. MOLLY is 35-year-old woman. She has a SON and was WIDOWED . Her three biggest loves are her SON , DOGS , and FISHING . She currently lives in VERMONT . As a registered member of the SoulSync database we can offer you her contact information for a small processing fee. If you decide to get married within the year, SoulSync offers a 15% discount at all SoulSync chapels, with over 200 worldwide locations!
Will dropped the papers to the floor.
A woman.
A woman with a son and a love of dogs.
Will leaned heavily against the desk and let himself acknowledge just how right that felt. He closed his eyes and thought about the house, no, cabin that they would settle into. Will could rescue a whole passel of dogs. Molly would laugh every time he brought home a new stray, then roll her eyes fondly and kiss him on the cheek. Let’s give you a bath and see what we’ve got she’d say as she took the dog from Will, offering a wink. The boy would take some time to adjust, but Will would show him how to tie lures and win him over in a few months. The family would fish on Sundays. It would be their form of church, just them, the river, and whatever they were able to drag from the depths of the water.
It was a good life, a happy one. Will knew in his bones he’d find peace there with the dogs and the Fosters.
And yet.
Would he ever be able to cast bait into the water without silently calling it Hannibal first? Would Molly understand that his nightmares could never really be stopped, just soothed by whispered Italian poetry and soft kisses to his neck? Would Molly be afraid when Will used his teeth during their love making? Would torn skin and bruises be the same fond tokens to her?
He closed his eyes and thought of the little cabin in Vermont again. How grey it would look in the cold winter mornings. How loud it would be, stuffed full with barking dogs, a growing boy, and the creeping dread that this type of domesticity didn’t fit him, no matter what his enzymes said.
Beyond the cabin he could see warm amber light. He followed it to the piazza where he and Hannibal took coffee on Saturday mornings. He walked down a terracotta street to the blood-bathed scene of a fresh murder, where he twisted limbs into art while Hannibal sliced meat for their table. He stopped in their bedroom where both monsters and men rolled in Prussian blue sheets, biting and clawing their way to fusion and completion.
It was beautiful.
Will had once wanted peace, but now he craved metamorphosis. His genes had simply not caught up to the man who had emerged from the chrysalis. He smiled, he hoped Molly Foster found someone that would show her the true potential of the world. It wouldn’t be Will, his soul was already synced.
“Will?” Hannibal was at the door, unopened envelope in hand. He looked at the papers on the floor. “I see you couldn’t wait for me.”
Will shrugged, bending to gather the papers and toss them in the fire.
“Waste of money,” Will said moving to wrap his arms around Hannibal’s waist. “I knew it would be you."
Hannibal looked at Will for a long moment, eyes glittering before tossing his SoulSync packet into the fire with Will’s. The empath smiled, pulling his monster into a hug.
This was his soulmate. This man was who he was fated to be with, not even death would part them. This man was the love of his life.
This man was currently peering over Will’s shoulder squinting at the burning papers in the fire.
“Just let it go.” Will pressed a smile into Hannibal's neck.
“My name is not Molly.” Hannibal said the name as though it were some type of venereal disease.
Will rolled his eyes. “I choose you, isn't that enough?”
“Of course it is, my darling boy. Of course it is.” Hannibal pulled Will into a soft kiss, the empath melted into the seeking lips. When they pulled apart, Will rested his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, smiling softly to himself. “Did she live in Virginia or Vermont?”
“No.”
“If I eliminate her as a possibility, your results may change.”
Will laughed, twining his arms around Hannibal’s waist. “How about I just call you Molly, instead?”
Hannibal nipped at Will’s neck. “If I kill you MY results may change.”
Will ran a fond hand over Hannibal’s jaw, smiling. “Come on now, Molls, don't be like that.”
“You must be my soulmate if I allow you to live.”
“See? That's better than some dumb test.” Will led Hannibal to the couch, offering him the last of his scotch. The doctor drank it before tugging Will down to curl at his side. They sat in silence, hands threaded together as they watched their soulmates burn.