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“Are you sure about this?”
Richie inhales slowly, trying to calm his racing heart as he stares down at their interlocked hands. They haven’t talked about what will happen depending on what they discover after this, but he needs to know. Letting out a shaky breath, he nods, tightening his grip on Eddie’s hand and looking up to meet those stormy grey eyes that he loves so much. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Though still clearly wary, Eddie nods, offering a half-smile as he leans forward to press their lips together in a quick, terrified kiss. “No matter what,” he says, voice hushed, “we’ll figure it out. Okay?”
“Okay,” Richie breathes, nodding once more as he swallows the lump forming in his throat. He glances down at their hands in uncertainty, brows twitching together. “Um. How does this work?”
Eddie leans his forehead against Richie’s and takes in a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Just close your eyes,” he instructs sternly, leaving no room for argument, as if Richie would dare to question Eddie in a time like this. Richie’s the human one here, whereas Eddie has two decades worth of perfecting his witchcraft under his belt, so who is he to assume Eddie’s wrong? Besides, he trusts Eddie more than he’s ever trusted anyone ever before, so he doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he lets his eyes fall shut. Eddie hums in approval, lifting his hand that isn’t occupied in Richie’s to lightly brush his fingertips over the curve of Richie’s jaw before quickly letting it fall once more. “Good. Make sure you keep them closed, okay? If you open them before I tell you to, we’ll have to start over, and doing this takes a lot of energy. I can only attempt it two, maybe three times before needing to take a break.”
“Got it,” Richie murmurs, though his lips twitch down in a frown when he realizes he can’t seek comfort in Eddie’s gaze. “Keeping them closed until I get an okay. Noted.”
Despite how serious this situation is, Eddie can’t help but let out a chuckle, kissing Richie once more, quick and chaste, before withdrawing completely. The only thing that keeps them connected is their linked hands, and at the sudden absence of Eddie’s warmth, Richie is unable to stop himself from tightening his hold, an unintentional noise of complaint bubbling from the back of his throat. This has Eddie laughing a little louder as he promises, “I’m not going anywhere, Rich, don’t worry. I just need to make sure I can see the book so I don’t fuck it up.”
With a small grunt of dissatisfaction, Richie says, “You won’t fuck it up, Eds. I’ve seen the shit you’re capable of, don’t stress yourself. This’ll be a piece of cake.”
“No talking until I’m done,” Eddie gently scolds, but his smile is audible in his tone, and it helps remind Richie that there’s nothing to worry about. Best case scenario, they’ll find exactly what they were hoping for. Worst case scenario, they’ll find the opposite, but they’ll make it work somehow, doing whatever they need to do in order to stay together. Because, really, fuck fate, or God (Gods?), or the universe, or whatever it is that deems itself worthy of deciding who belongs with who. If whatever it is that chose their soulmates didn’t make Eddie his, then they’re clearly mistaken and shouldn’t be trusted with the task.
Richie seals his lips together, trying not to grin. This is serious, he knows, but he’s in love and his boyfriend is holding his hand, and isn’t that something worthy of smiling about?
The following few minutes are quiet, and at first Richie is left questioning if anything is happening at all, but then he can feel it, somehow – in the bottom of his gut, there’s a tugging sensation, and he knows that whatever it is Eddie has to do, he’s started it. So Richie waits, subconsciously squeezing Eddie’s hand when the odd feeling in his gut gets stronger. Not painful, no, but uncomfortable, feeling like an itch he can’t reach, or a cramp he can’t seem to shake off. Thankfully, Eddie never fails to return the gesture, though not once does he speak up, and while Richie understands he most likely has to remain quiet to summon whatever energy he needs to complete this, that doesn’t fail to make him feel more and more antsy as the seconds tick by.
He bites his tongue, just to make sure he won’t make a sound. Eddie squeezes his hand again. Richie squeezes back.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” Eddie mumbles after nearly ten minutes of this, and his voice sounds wrecked, like he was just screaming at the top of his lungs for an hour rather than sitting in silence. “I’m gonna take my hand away, okay? But I’m not going anywhere, we just can’t be holding hands if we want to actually see it.” Reluctantly, Richie allows Eddie to detangle their fingers and shoves his hand between his thighs before he can feel the cold in the absence of Eddie’s skin against his. “Okay. I closed my eyes, too, so I haven’t looked yet. I want… I want to look together. Is that okay?”
“I’m too scared to look alone,” Richie admits softly, digging his teeth into the soft skin of his lower lip and trying not to shrink in on himself. If Eddie’s eyes are closed then he supposes it doesn’t matter, but he hates feeling small and weak, even though he’s well aware that Eddie is much stronger than he is, and while he may not physically be taller than Richie, his personality and his being are definitely bigger by every other definition of the word. So, squaring his shoulders and pretending that’s enough to make him brave, Richie says, “I want to look at the same time.”
Eddie reaches over to grip onto the collar of Richie’s shirt, twisting his fingers into the material and using his hold as leverage to pull Richie closer. Due to neither of them looking, he misses, planting a smacking kiss to the curve of Richie’s chin, but it only takes a moment before he manages to seek out Richie’s lips, and the kiss isn’t heated or desperate or anything like that. It’s urgent and it’s terrified and it’s filled with the realization that when they part they’re going to have to confront whatever they see.
Deciding that he wants to push that confrontation back a few more moments, Richie presses into the kiss, semi-aware that this kind of force may leave bruising in their wake, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to be closer, and he wishes they had put aside the time to be more intimate before doing this, to spend an hour or two on nothing but one another, kisses languid and touches gentle, retracing each other’s bodies – bodies they have long since memorized like a map, with lips and teeth and tongues.
But they didn’t think that far ahead, so Richie will settle for this, his hand curling around Eddie’s neck and sliding up until his fingers are buried within Eddie’s soft, dirty blonde hair, his other hand cupping Eddie’s jaw. He considers just staying like this forever, but Eddie pulls back, panting lightly, and carefully withdraws from Richie once more. Richie doesn’t even bother trying to hold back the whine of complaint that he makes in response, and that makes Eddie giggle lightly, but the laugh is strained at best and completely fake at worst. “No more putting it off,” Eddie states, and Richie just wants to reach for him, pull him in and hold him close, but if there’s ever been a time for him to behave, this is it. He links his hands together and lets them rest over the curve of his thighs, eyes flickering back and forth despite not being able to see anything other than the inside of his eyelids. “Are you ready?”
“Not really,” Richie answers honestly, but he makes sure to lilt his voice in favor of hiding how nervous he really is. He hears Eddie let out a short and sharp exhale, and he can tell that they’re both fighting the urge to grab for each other again, fingers twitching where they’re splayed out against their knees. Richie bites down on his lower lip anxiously, this time harder, and feels the moment he draws blood, the metallic taste rinsing over his tongue and leaving a strange bitterness behind. “As ready as I ever will be, I guess. Just… count me down, okay?”
“Of course,” Eddie agrees, swallowing so thickly that Richie can hear it. The fear is palpable in the room, and if this wasn’t so important to him, he would call this off here and now, would end this ritual and go make a nice lunch and spoil Eddie with treats and sweets and only good things. But it is important, and he can still spoil Eddie when they’re done, so he keeps quiet as Eddie murmurs, “I’m gonna count down from three, and we’re gonna look when I get to one.” Richie nods, and he knows Eddie can’t see him, but he can’t bring himself to audibly respond quite yet. Thankfully, Eddie must sense Richie’s agreement, as he goes on to quietly say, “Three… two…”
Richie feels his heart stutter, his breath catch. The world seems to freeze over entirely.
“…one.”
Slowly, he opens his eyes, having to squint through the lighting in the bedroom, and the first thing he does is seek out Eddie’s gaze, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when those grey eyes are staring right back at him. He can’t see their hands yet, but the knowledge that all it’ll take is one glance down is enough to have his heart racing in his chest. There are a million things he wants to say right now, but when he parts his lips nothing comes out, so he settles for nodding once and hoping Eddie understands. If the way Eddie nods back is anything to go by, he does.
In unison, they shift their eyes downward, hands poised in front of them. Richie sucks in a harsh breath when he sees the red thread tied around his pinky securely. He wiggles his fingers curiously, not surprised to find that he can’t actually feel the thread against his skin. Then, cautiously, he follows the red thread, trailing after it until he can see the other end tied to Eddie’s pinky, keeping them connected.
So they were right. In the eyes of fate, they’re meant to be together.
“Oh, thank god,” Richie breathes, so much relief flooding through his body that it brings tears to his eyes as he continues to stare at the string attaching them, scanning over it, back and forth, almost worried that it might disappear. “Eds, we’re—”
“Richie,” Eddie interrupts, and he doesn’t sound relieved. He sounds shocked. Richie looks up at him in alarm, only to find him staring out the door. “Look at your other hand.”
Timidly, Richie does, moving his gaze down to his other hand and finding another red string tied to that pinky, too. Only this string isn’t leading to Eddie, no. This string goes straight out the door and down the hall, linked to something far from where they are, something they can’t see from here. Richie stares after it, jaw dropped, and meekly asks, “What does that mean?”
Softly, voice lilted with awe, Eddie answers, “It means we have more than one soulmate.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think they’re a girl? I mean, I know I’m technically bi, but after being with you for so long, I don’t think I can date a chick again. And you’re gay, so how would that even work?”
“I don’t know, Richie.”
“Is there more than one? ‘Cause I’m down for a threesome, maybe even a foursome depending on who it is, but if we end up having, like, five other soulmates, I’m gonna have to tap out. Little Richie can’t take that much.”
“I don’t know, Richie!”
Richie snaps his mouth shut, eyes widening at the irritation in Eddie’s voice. He turns away from the bowl of cereal he was digging into, milk rolling down the side of his chin and a mouthful of Cheerios muffling his words. He drops his spoon into the bowl and leans back, taking a moment to wipe away the milk and swallow his food before gingerly asking, “Are you alright, Eds?”
Letting out a ragged sigh, Eddie slumps in his seat, playing with the scrambled eggs on his plate with a strained look on his features. “Yeah,” he murmurs in response, only to pause, consider, and add, “No.” Then, with another sigh, dropping his fork onto his plate unceremoniously, he crosses his arms over his chest and hunches his shoulders up in some kind of shrug. “I don’t know,” he settles on, sounding unsure. “I just… having more than one soulmate is… it’s not common, you know? And I can’t imagine my future with a third person, or even a fourth, or… however many we have. I can only imagine it with you, and this… this is… this is big, okay? What if this changes everything?”
“It doesn’t have to change anything,” Richie tells him, getting out of his seat and maneuvering around the kitchen table in order to lower himself into the empty chair next to Eddie. “We can still be just us. I mean, we’re soulmates, me and you. Just because we technically have more doesn’t mean we’re obligated to spend our lives with them. If it were fifty years ago, maybe, but we’re lucky enough to live in an era where soulmates doesn’t always equal life partners. Do you know how many people don’t stay with their soulmates, or fall for people they technically aren’t meant to be with? The threads connect you to people you share your soul with, but there’s not an instruction manual or some shit. Soulmates are just… people you’re connected to, people you share a soul with. Maybe, whoever we’re connected to… maybe they’re, like, platonic, you know? Platonic soulmates are a thing.”
Slowly, Eddie nods, but he doesn’t look very convinced as he looks over at Richie, brows pinched together and lips tugged out in a slight frown. “I’m not… I’m not against change. That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m just… I’m scared about it being a bad change.”
For a moment, Richie weighs Eddie’s words in his mind, trying to figure out the best way to respond. Then, speaking a little slow, a little careful, he says, “I think, if it starts to look like a bad change, we back out of it and go back to just being us. As cool as I think it might be to have another soulmate that I love as much as I love you, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re my top priority here, you know? If whoever else we’re connected to ends up being bad for us, then we’ll drop them, and we’ll move on.”
It takes a couple seconds, but Eddie’s frown lessens at that reassurance, his shoulders relaxing and his tension draining away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding again, the crease between his brows disappearing as he reaches forward to pick up his fork again, bringing a bite of his eggs to his mouth and chewing them with a considerate expression. Looking towards Richie, Eddie points his fork at him, brows now raised, and says, “Y’know, this means we have to try and find them. I don’t have strong enough magic to just, like, track them down or figure out any names, so… any ideas, lover boy?”
“Oh, for sure,” Richie nods, though it’s obvious that he’s not being serious as he reaches over and tears a piece off of Eddie’s waffle, popping it into his mouth with ease. Gently knocking down the fork that’s still being held in his face, not harsh enough for it to fall and clatter to the table or the floor but with enough force to make Eddie’s hand move back slightly, he says, “You do your little spell again, and we follow the damn string until the spell wears off. Rinse and repeat until we find what we’re looking for.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Eddie snorts, shaking his head as he cocks an eyebrow at Richie. “Do you know how fucking tiring that shit was? That was, like, the most powerful spell I’m capable of doing with where I am. Maybe if I found someone to help me get stronger, or if I had a few years to strengthen my magic myself, but I don’t think those things are happening. Think of something else.” Taking another bite of his eggs, Eddie gestures with his fork and adds, “Besides, what if it is more than one person and our strings end up going different ways? What if they end up living on another continent, huh? There’s too many uncertainties. We need, like, a real plan. Or, maybe…”
As Eddie trails off, Richie leans forward, intrigued by the way Eddie’s features transform into some kind of realization. “What? What is it, Eds?”
And Eddie grins, excitement glinting in his eyes, any of his previous anxieties having officially melted away as he meets Richie’s gaze. “I don’t know how to find them,” he says quickly, words speeding up like they always do when he’s energized. “But I know someone who might be able to help.”
Audra Phillips is known for, perhaps, a dozen different things. She is an incredible actress, starring in many hit movies and playing side characters in various popular shows. Her hair color changes a couple times a year, alternating between her natural brown-ginger mix and a more general dark brunette, and when she smiles, fans all over the world swoon simultaneously. About five years back, she was all over the news because of a car crash she was in, resulting in some major injuries that healed nicely, the only visible reminder of the incident being a faint scar on her upper lip that’s just too stubborn to fade away. A year after that, she came out to the public, throwing her into the spotlight once again.
The thing that brought the most attention to her, however, was when she went on a talk show and revealed that she’s in a relationship with three other woman.
While she is clearly not ashamed about this, often posting pictures and videos of her and her girlfriends all across her various social media platforms, she doesn’t really go in depth about the dynamics of her love life with the public, choosing to keep the details private, though paparazzi and nosy assholes are constantly trying to open the door and bring all their dirty secrets into the light.
Eddie knows Audra because of an incident from way before she became famous, back when she was in need of some magical assistance and only had a limited amount of cash to offer. The details are a little fuzzy from all the time that has passed, but he remembers it was health related – her mother was sick, he thinks, something that had started small was but quickly turning into a threat to her life, and simple medicine wasn’t doing the job. When she cried at his kitchen table, he brushed away her money and did what he could for free, mixing up a couple different elixirs and offering a few little bottles of essential oils that should help. Thankfully, the results were positive, and a couple times a year, Audra still gets a hold of him to remind him that she still wants to do something to repay him for his help.
So, he calls her, and within the week, they’re being picked up by a car she sent for them and getting whisked away to her house on the outskirts of Hollywood.
When Audra sees him, she pulls him into a hug, her grin so wide that it almost looks like she’s greeting a close friend rather that someone she barely knows. Either way, Eddie melts into the embrace, because Audra has a calming aura about her, a sense of ease coming from her posture and the way she talks. After a moment, he pulls back, but she keeps him at an arm’s length, scanning over his features and whistling low beneath her breath. “Damn, Kaspbrak,” she says. “Last I saw you, you looked like you were barely an adult. What happened to the guy with the potions and the baby face?”
“I grew up,” he answers simply, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling along when she laughs. Backing away from her entirely, he turns around, gesturing to Richie, and says, “This is my boyfriend.”
“Richie,” he introduces, sticking out a hand and trying not to look as out of his element as he feels. Audra laughs again, grabs his hand and pulls him into a hug instead. The friendliness helps him relax, and by the time they’re pulling away from one another, he has an easy smile on his face and finds it easy to tell her, “I’m a big fan of your work, by the way. You’re really talented.”
Audra waves a dismissive hand. “I’m a bigger fan of your boyfriends work, trust me.”
And Richie snickers, grinning at Eddie and reaching for his hand. “Can’t say I disagree there.”
The tour of Audra’s place is short and simple – it’s a nice house, but it isn’t a mansion, rather just big enough for four woman and their two dogs to live in, as well as any guests that may wind up staying with them for a couple days. Eddie kind of wants to tell her that the tour isn’t necessary, wants to get right to business and start making some progress, but Richie seems excited to look around, so he doesn’t rush it. Thankfully, though, Audra seems to sense his urgency to get to the point, as it doesn’t take long before she’s leading them into the living room, where three other woman are lounging around with their laptops open and a movie on TV. She quickly introduces them by name – Kay McCall, Patty Blum, and Beverly Marsh – before making her way to an empty sofa pushed against the wall and clapping her hands together. “So!” she exclaims, looking at Eddie expectantly. “What can I do for you?”
Eddie doesn’t want to beat around the bush, which is why he quickly answers, “Richie and I have more than one soulmate, and I didn’t know who else to go to about it.”
Nothing really changes, but it feels like the room goes quiet and everyone’s attention turns to them. The shift in the air makes Eddie shift uncomfortably as Richie tightens his hold on Eddie’s hand and looks around, brows pinching together just slightly. For a very long moment, Audra only stares at them in mild shock, then looks over her shoulder to meet gazes with her girlfriends, before slowly asking, “How, uh… what did you want me to do about that?”
“Help us,” Eddie tells her simply, glancing around the room in confusion. He was right – all of them are staring at him and Richie, in various stages of tension or uncertainty. “We don’t know how many soulmate’s we might have, and we don’t know how to find them. We need help.”
“I can’t help you with that,” Audra says, sounding guilty. She pushes herself to her feet before Eddie or Richie can protest, crossing the room and holding a hand out to one of the woman – Patty, the one with blonde hair and a naturally kind complexion. Helping Patty to her feet, Audra faces them again and tells them, “I’m going to introduce you guys again. To start with, this is my soulmate, Patricia Blum.” She gestures towards Beverly and Kay, who are holding hands and smiling up at Audra with some kind of pride etched into their features, and continues with, “These are my girlfriends, Beverly Marsh and Kay McCall. Beverly and Kay are soulmates with each other, but we are not, technically, all soulmates. According to the threads, we only have one.”
Understanding dawns on Richie’s face before Eddie fully grasps what she’s saying, and all Richie can do is nod, looking a little crestfallen. Eddie hears him inhale slightly, then sniffle a little, and he can tell in the change of Richie’s breathing that this disappointment is already bringing him to the brink of tears. That realization makes Eddie want to be angry, but everyone looks just as upset by the clear sadness on Richie’s features as he feels, so he doesn’t bother to address the need to be frustrated, instead turning his full attention to Richie, leaning in close and squeezing his hand as he whispers, “We’ll figure something else out, okay? We’re gonna find them, Richie.”
And Richie nods, looking kind of annoyed at himself for getting teary – he resents that part of himself, his tendency to cry over the simplest things. They’ve talked about it extensively before, how it isn’t something to feel weak about, or to try and hide, but Richie still tries to push it back, shove it down, cover it up with a joke and a laugh and some other half assed attempts at humor. But this isn’t a normal situation. They have at least one other soulmate out there, and he wants to find them, wants to figure out if he’ll fall in love with them, too. If they’ll double the happiness he already feels with Eddie, make their lives better. He wants to know, and not being able to is kind of painful. It just… hurts.
“Audie,” Beverly speaks up, tearing her sympathetic gaze away from Richie as he stubbornly blinks, scrubbing the heel of his palm over his cheeks and nodding again when Eddie gently brushes his fingers over the inside of his wrist. They don’t pay close attention to what’s happening around them, but Beverly gets to her feet, leans in to whisper into Audra’s ear, and then leans back to share a heavy sort of look. After a moment, Audra nods, releasing a slow breath as she glances between Beverly and the two boys sitting across the room. Murmuring something in return, she steps back completely, sits next to Kay and reaches out to hold her hand while Beverly approaches the boys with a small smile. Eddie eyes her warily, shuffling a bit closer to Richie and hoping that she won’t say anything that would be more disheartening than what they’ve already heard.
What she does day, however, is anything but.
“I have these friends,” Beverly tells them softly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Richie’s knee in what’s meant to be a comforting gesture. All they do is blink at her, waiting with bated breath for her to continue, wanting to hope for the best but being scared to get their hopes up. Beverly smiles wider, just a little bit, and continues with, “Three of them, to be exact. A witch, one that I grew up with, one of the strongest I’ve ever seen, and a half-witch, and a shapeshifter, too. And all three of them… they’re soulmates, red threads and all.”
The moment Richie sucks in a harsh breath is the same moment Eddie grins, leaning closer to Beverly in excitement, feeling almost like a little kid being given a present on Christmas morning rather than a twenty-three year old man. His voice even lilts just slightly, a bit higher pitched and airy than normal, when he asks, “They are? All three of them?”
“All three of them,” Beverly confirms with a nod, gaze dancing at the clear joy written on their features. She leans back, digging into her pocket to pull out her phone, and says, “I think this goes without asking, but do you want me to give them a call?”
“Yes,” Richie says without a moment of hesitation, looking the tiniest bit misty-eyed again.
Eddie squeezes his hand, just a little, and adds, “Please.”
The most powerful witch that Beverly Marsh knows happens to be named Mike Hanlon, and Mike Hanlon has two boyfriends that he adores with his entire heart and soul.
“I figured out I had two soulmates when I was sixteen,” Mike tells them while he’s pouring out three cups of coffee, Richie and Eddie both sitting at the kitchen table, listening closely to his every word, soaking in the relaxing tone of his smooth voice as he speaks. “My folks raised me well, taught me everything they knew. Hanlon’s are known for being pretty powerful witches, you know?”
“I’ve heard, yeah,” Eddie nods, gratefully accepting one of the mugs as Mike makes his way over, handing the other to Richie before sitting across the table from them with his own. taking a small sip from it and offering a languid smile to Eddie. “My mom tried to suppress my magic, ‘cause she didn’t realize my dad was a witch before they had me, so everything I learned was self-taught and kind of weak, but every time I went to other witches for help or to trade anything, they always mentioned your family.”
Mike hums, eyes dancing in an unreadable yet oddly calming way as he looks at Richie. “You’re human, right?” he asks, not maliciously, not unkind – just asking for the sake to know.
That doesn’t stop Richie from looking a little embarrassed as he nods and answers, “Yeah.”
“One of my boyfriends, Ben, he thought he was just human for a very long time,” Mike muses, taking another slow sip of his drink and relaxing back in his seat. “Kind of like you,” he adds, looking back to Eddie, “his father was a witch, but his mother never knew that, and his dad passed away before telling anyone. It wasn’t until after I met him that he learned he’s a half-witch, and that’s just because I could feel the magic in his blood. Bill’s different, a very different kind of magic, capable of changing however he wants, whenever he wants. It’s interesting, actually, being with them. Two witches and a shapeshifter, all very powerful. Ben’s not as strong of a witch as I am, mostly because it takes a significantly longer time to develop strength when you’re a half-witch, but I’ve been helping him for years now and he can pass as full blooded with how much he’s grown.”
Eddie blinks once, a little slow and stunned. “That’s… really cool. I didn’t know half-witches could get that strong. I just thought…”
“You thought what all half-witches think,” Mike fills in, his smile slight and sympathetic. “That you’re less than, not as capable, not powerful enough. Am I right?” Slowly, Eddie nods, tightening his grip on his coffee cup until his knuckles turn white. Mike leans forward, places his mug on the table and maintains eye contact as he states, “That’s all bullshit. Half or not, you’re a witch, and you are just as capable as any other witch out there. It might take longer, more work, more patience, but you can do it.”
If Eddie was able to form a response, he would have said thank you, but all he can do is gape at Mike silently and wonder how this visit turned into a therapy session.
Mike leans back again, grins a little wider, and asks, “How many strings were there?”
“What?” Richie asks, sounding just as flabbergasted as Eddie feels about how the conversation is going, scrambling to catch up with what’s going on.
“When you performed the spell, how many threads did you guys see?” Mike rephrases.
Shaking his head slightly to focus in on reality, Eddie answers, “Two each. There was one connecting the two of us, and then one on our other hands going out the door.”
“One other soulmate, then,” Mike nods, humming again, this time more considerately. At the confused looks on Eddie and Richie’s faces, he explains, “If there was more, there’d be more threads. One other thread means one other person. Like me, you were born with two soulmates.” He takes a moment to ponder over his thoughts, picking up his coffee to take another sip and tapping his fingertips along the side of the cup absentmindedly. “Okay,” he eventually says, coming to some sort of decision in his mind. “I can do for you what I did for myself when I cast the spell and saw two threads.”
Instantly, Eddie and Richie lean forward, reaching for each other until their hands are clasped together, seeking comfort from the touch. Softly, Richie asks, “What is that?”
And Mike shrugs, glances down at their linked hands, and tells them, “There’s a spell that can figure out where the threads go. I can’t tell you the name of your soulmate, but I can tell you where they live. After that, it’s up to you.”
There are many downsides to being one of the few truly powerful psychics in this world, but in Stan’s opinion, the worst bullet point on his list of cons is the lack of free time he really has.
The headaches are also a problem, and the occasional visions that are so horrible and vivid that he has to lay down for a few hours just to remember how to breath properly, but those aren’t the worst part for him. Every day, he gets a call from someone who needs to know something – information about a loved one, wanting to know if they’ll ever win the lottery, trying to catch a cheating soulmate, anything. If there’s a question involved that they think a psychic can solve, they track down his number, offer to pay whatever it takes, and schedule an appointment as early as the very next morning.
It helps him make a living while working from home, yes, and he does find joy in helping others, but most of the people who come to see him are petty and rich and selfish. When someone comes in with a real problem, he loves helping them, loves giving them the answers they’re looking for. And the free time thing wouldn’t even be an issue if he knew how to say no to people, but they ask if he’s available on a certain day at a certain time, and if he has nothing else planned, he just… agrees. He always agrees.
Today, however, is a rare day. It’s a special day. He could feel it the moment he woke up.
He thinks that today is the day his soulmates will finally find him.
When he was eighteen-years-old, Stan saw a glimpse of something unusual. Usually, unsolicited visions tend to be more of a warning for future tragedy. His abilities as a psychic are limited to feelings, for the most part, and having answers that he can’t explain – the clairvoyance part, however, is what makes him see things, and occasionally hear things, as well. Clairvoyance is what makes his dreams into things that aren’t from his imagination, turning them into flashes of people he doesn’t know and places he’s never seen. The difference between a minor psychic and a powerful one is how much of their power is based on feelings and how much is based on more.
In his dream, eighteen-year-old Stanley Uris saw two boys, and he felt the connection he had to them. He knew, as he usually does, that they were his soulmates, and he knew, as he usually does, that it wasn’t up to him to find them. There was magic in the vision, something beautiful written into his dreams, and he could tell, with utmost certainty, that at least one of them was a witch, and they would find him eventually, when they were well and ready.
That had been five years ago, and Stan has been patiently waiting ever since.
Since then, he’s seen more glimpses of them, seen them in flashes and dreams. He’s never heard their names, he’s never gotten a clear look at their faces, but he thinks he loves them already. He’s heard clips of their laughs, he’s seen flashes of smiles and hands and freckles and skin. Their identities may be lost on him, but he feels it, as he feels most think. Without intention, without a warning. He feels his heart beat in time with theirs and he knows that they’ll be great together, the three of them.
And today, he has nothing planned, his schedule free. That never happens. It is that fact, as well as the knowing ache in his chest, that he can tell what’s in store.
The moment they step on his property, he feels it in his gut, in a tingle down his spine. His heart thuds in his chest with every step they take, and before he even realizes it, he’s on his feet and heading towards the front door. His hand shakes when he reaches for the knob, struggles to get a proper grip as he tries to twist it, but he makes it work, hears the click of the lock and the creak of the wood as the door swings open and reveals them.
One of them, the taller one with the dark, curly hair and the glasses, has his fist raised in the air, like he was about to knock when Stan opened the door. There’s a scar on his lower lip, moles and freckles dotting his pale skin, arms thin and long, legs even longer. He looks frozen to the spot, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to come up with something to say. Everything about him screams too much, but in an endearing sort of way. Stan thinks he wouldn’t mind being overwhelmed by just how much of him there is.
Next to him is a man that’s more of an average height, his hair such a light brown that it almost looks blond – or, perhaps, such a dark blond that is almost looks brown, Stan can’t tell. There are freckles dotting his skin, as well, though they’re of a lighter color with less moles, making them more difficult to spot until you’re really looking for them. Unlike the taller of the two, he doesn’t look frozen, or even that shocked. Instead, his gaze is sweeping over Stan from head to toe, brows pinched together in thought, some kind of consideration brewing in his gaze. His eyes look like storm clouds and Stan wonders if they change with his emotions like the clouds change with the weather.
Stan grins, feeling every muscle in his body relax, his heart settling and his lungs crying out in relief like he’s taking his first breath of fresh air, and in a voice much softer than he’s ever used before, softer than he ever thought he was capable of, he says, “It took you two long enough.”
“So, you… you knew?”
Stan nods, the action slight, as he maneuvers his way around the kitchen. Part of him wants to make something professional, something that makes sense – tea or coffee, perhaps – but he’s not a big fan of either, only drinking them when his headaches are particularly bad, and he hasn’t gone grocery shopping in a few weeks, so all he has to offer is chocolate milk. Which is a little embarrassing, but there aren’t any complaints when he makes his way back to the living room with three glasses precariously being held in his hands. Thankfully, Eddie gets to his feet instantly to grab two of the glasses before Stan can drop any of them, to which Stan murmurs a grateful, “Thanks,” as he sits down.
“If you knew,” Eddie says, handing one of the glasses to Richie, who looks pretty excited about the type of drink he’s been given, “then why didn’t you find us first? I mean, surely you could have.”
“I could have, yeah,” Stan shrugs, sinking back into the cushions of his loveseat, gaze stuck on the two boys sitting on the sofa across from him, unable to look away. “That’s part of being what I am, though. I could have found you, but I knew that I had to wait. Maybe it was fate, maybe it was just how things had to happen, I don’t know, but… I wasn’t supposed to find you. You had to find me.”
Richie nods as if that’s the most reasonable thing he’s ever heard, while Eddie only hums, looking down at his drink as he weighs over the information in his head. As Eddie is pondering over his thoughts, Richie lets out a sigh, his smile wide and giddy as he muses, “Stanley Uris. Stan. Stan the man. One of my soulmates.” At that, he laughs an incredulous little laugh, placing a hand on Eddie’s knee as if searching for a grounding point and shaking his head. “Two soulmates. Jesus.” He looks at Eddie then, grin turning into something more devious as he says, “At least it’s not five. Little Richie can handle this.”
The laugh that bursts from the back of Stan’s throat is unexpected and impossible to contain, but Eddie just groans, sounding equal parts fond and mortified. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with him,” Eddie says to Stan solemnly, even while Stan is still snickering into his palm. “I’ve been dealing with him for years. You’ll get used to hearing gross shit like that, I promise.”
“Oh, make me sound like more of a burden in front of our soulmate, why don’t you?” Richie scoffs, rolling his eyes and withdrawing his hand from Eddie’s knee to pout childishly. Stan isn’t sure if it’s meant to be theatrical or not, but the words feel a little too heavy, only getting heavier when Richie murmurs, “I’m already the weak link here, or did you forget that I’m the only human in this room?”
On some level, Stan thinks there should be more time put aside for them to talk, to get to know each other, to establish a foundation before jumping into this whole being soulmates thing – especially since Richie and Eddie have been together for years, and Stan is only just now being thrown into the mix, but… there’s a look, a painful look, shimmering in Richie’s gaze, and Eddie looks stuck and sad, like he’s heard Richie say things like this before and still doesn’t know the right way to respond. Setting aside his glass, Stan moves without thinking, much like he did when he went to answer the door, until he’s made his way around the coffee table and is kneeling in front of Richie, reaching forward to tilt his head up until their gazes meet. With a small smile, Stan tells him, “You don’t sound like a burden at all.”
Richie blinks once, looks over to Eddie, who appears just as shell shocked as him, and then looks back to Stan, a lump already forming in his throat. He goes to respond, but nothing comes out.
“You sound very sweet, actually,” Stan goes on, moving his left hand slightly to cradle Richie’s face in his palm, using his right hand to reach over and do the same to Eddie, gaze flickering back and forth between the two of them. “You know, I…I’ve seen you, both of you. In dreams, in visions, in… moments, I guess. And I know I don’t know you, not really, but we’re already connected by the threads, and I’ve been waiting for so long to meet you, and…” Stan trails off, his smile widening into a somewhat unstable, watery grin. He almost pulls back, takes his hands away, but they seem to be leaning into the contact, drawing comfort from it. Shaking his head slightly, the same incredulous action that Richie had done, Stan says, “I don’t care about magic, or the lack of it. I don’t care about one of you being human and the other being a witch. I don’t care about any of that, because you two… you’ve seemed perfect to me since the first time I dreamed about you. And that’s not going to change.”
For a long moment, no one moves, Eddie and Richie both staring at Stan with wide, unblinking eyes, while Stan continues to glance between them, waiting for some sort of reaction. Then, with a gust of air and a murmured, “Fuck it,” Eddie is lurching forward and pulling Stan into a kiss.
And they feel it, then, all three of them. Their hearts match up and beat in time with one another, and their veins flood with something unfamiliar and exciting, like adrenaline but a hundred times better. When Eddie pulls back, Richie takes his place, enthusiastically pressing his lips to Stan’s. After that, Richie kisses Eddie, and Eddie kisses Stan again, and the rest of the world doesn’t exist for them – the only thing that matters is the three of them, soulmates, being drawn together by the red threads of fate and knowing that they’ll be connected like this for the rest of their lives.