Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't until your second year of university that you finally saw it; the Red String.

Everyone has one, supposedly. Some see it later than others, your parents gently tried to explain to you. Easy for them to say, they've been attached at the hip since childhood. They encouraged you to attend circles that operated like a sort of group therapy for late bloomers. Naturally, you were having none of it. 

Your first couple classes were over, leaving you with some time to relax before your next lecture. You and a friend typically spent this time meeting at a nearby cafe to share your mutual complaints about the day thus far. The leaves crunched under your feet on your way there, bag slung over your shoulder. Once inside, you got your order and sat outside with them. 

"So... What are you going to do about it?"

"Hm?" You gave a questioning hum without looking up from where you picked at the edges of your paper cup. 

"The string? You're going to follow it, right?" Your friend implored.

That morning during your first class, you tried to brush away a light sensation on your hand, thinking it was just eraser dust, only to look down and realized it wasn't going anywhere; The red string was tied around your littlest finger. In your surprise, the first thing you did was text your confidant about it. 

Now though, the shock wore off. Being a very... open individual, in regards to orientation, you were curious about the vast possibilities of what partner the universe could have chosen for you, but you'd gone your whole life without knowing. Why freak out about it now? 

You laughed, "Follow it? For all we know it could lead across the country, man. I'm not just going to ditch all my classes at the whim of cupid. I've waited this long, I think I can wait a while longer." 

Your friend looked thoughtful for a minute. "I guess that's fair. I can see you're not much of a romantic, even now, but if it were me I'd be racing towards it." 

"That's because you're hopeless." You smiled.

They stuck their tongue out at you playfully, "What if you're seeing it now for a reason, though? Haven't you heard some of the late bloomer stories?" 

Bringing your cup to your mouth, you glance at the pinkie holding it. The string was still there, glaring at you. It whipped in the wind as if flailing desperately for your attention. It became slightly opaque, almost glowing in the sun. 

"It's probably nothing that can't wait. Stories are stories for a reason." 

Just before your friend could chide you for your apathetic attitude, you nearly dropped your coffee as the string was pulled tight. 

"What's wrong?" 

"It's...it's tugging. Literally, tugging at me."

"Pulling you? Whoa, dude, I've never had that happen. See? You have to follow it!" 

"But-" The string tugged at you harder.

"I'll get the bill, just go!" 

You looked back and forth for a second, before ultimately conceding with an exaggerated groan. Well wasn't this inconvenient. 

In spite of that thought, and all the others prodding at your through the opened floodgate, you sprinted to follow the string away from the cafe. It led you through the center of campus, winding through buildings and unwanted bystanders. You had to weave through people even once you emerged outdoors again on the other side of the main hall. 

You suddenly really wish you had a car. This could very well be miles away and you'd have no idea. 

Regardless, you let it literally string you along towards the opposite end of the community. You didn't need to pick up any slack, as if you were being reeled in like a fish on a line. Your stomach churned nervously, you could practically taste the metal hook in your mouth. 

Several times you stumbled and nearly fell, trying to keep up. At one point you narrowly avoided someone passing on their bike, earning a few colorful words from him. Alas, he wasn't your destination, so you ignored him. 

When the string finally allowed you some slack, you slowed to a halt, doubling over, out of breath from running clear across the university in less than 10 minutes. 

The sound of sirens pulled you out of your stupor, and you looked up to see someone being dragged out of their apartment complex in handcuffs by an officer. Neighbors stepped outside or opened their windows to peak at what was going on. Finally your eyes focused through the sun onto the guy being arrested; He was clearly a student here too, judging by the logo on his jacket and the bags under his eyes, hiding beneath a mess of black waves. His jaw was locked, tense, while tears of frustration streamed down his cheeks, making the blue orbs even more saturated. If he weren't in such a predicament, he'd be undeniably pretty.

You had to stand on your toes to get a better view of him by the police car. You glimpsed at his hands-- black nails and rings contrasted with the red string tied tight around his finger. You stopped your steps forward, realizing this was your so-called soulmate. At the same time, he saw you and the same thread pulling you to him. His evident horror matched your own expression. He was a criminal? Your supposed partner for life, a heathen? You lived your life by the book, you never would have imagined... What was he even being arrested for? The tears on his face said it has to be something heinous. 

The boy planted his feet in place to maintain eye contact with you, despite the officer tugging at him to obey. He stayed put to take you in as though the first time may be the last, just the same. A silent conversation passed, as if his expression was enough to speak volumes despite the 30 feet of distance;

It's you. After all this time, you've come to meet me in my worst moment. When I may never see you again.

You felt your lungs constrict. Was this a cruel joke? Don't go. Please. I don't even know your name yet, this isn't fair. You can't leave the moment I find you!

The arresting officer tugged at him again, "Come on, Solace, don't make me use force." And shoved his head down into the car. The door slammed shut on the red yarn, but didn't sever it. The police cab began to pull away just as suddenly as it had arrived. Sebastian could feel his neighbors looking through the window like he was on display, and out to the left, you still watched across the street. You looked utterly lost. If he could, he'd apologize for the shitty first impression. The word devastated didn't even begin to describe the way your knees shook, the way you clung to your end of the string. Your hair strung along in the wind, looking ghostly, but you were too focused on him to brush it out of your field of view. The bag you were carrying slid off your shoulder unceremoniously and dropped onto the pavement, being paid no mind.

He had to force himself to look away, to watch his street pass by him instead. The street he, his friends, his cat all lived on for the past 3 years. The sight didn't make him any less sad than the one on his left. He didn't even get an introduction to you, and he would probably never get the chance. 

Sebastian hung his head and laughed at the irony, like it was the funniest shit in the world.

Chapter Text

To say the first time you saw your soulmate was devastating would be an understatement. You might have been a little traumatized, truthfully. It all felt like a huge slap to the face. Guess love really just wasn't for you, huh?

After he was taken away, you had to battle with yourself to get more information. Part of you wanted to know what happened, who he was, if you could do something to help him. While the other part told you this was all CLEARLY a sign that you should get used to isolation, to leave this behind lest it get any worse.

You didn't get as much room to breathe as one might think. Seeing his face just once was enough for it to haunt you with possibilities, in dreams and in waking times. 

Dreams about the life you could be leading with him right now had you waking up almost surprised to be the lone occupant of your bed, your home. Like something vital had gotten lost. A sea without the tide. A headstone with no epitaph. A house without a door. Yeah, you could try covering it with curtains or foam or a goofy saloon gate, but the cold air would still blow in without the fitting door, and it would never really be safe. Somehow, that was worse than the nightmares about that day. Reliving the memory, or your mind conjuring scenarios of meeting him again only to be stabbed in the back, and not figuratively.

The curious side won. You asked around campus, met some of his friends, and watched the news to find out what the hell happened.

His mates were shocked when you awkwardly tried to explain that he was intertwined with you, soul-bound. According to them, their friend Sebastian never saw his own string; didn't think he had a soulmate, other than his fuzzy companion. He never seemed especially bothered by it, either. 

Through such sources, you were able to learn about him: He was an engineering major, a musician, a middle child, and a lovely cook. Talented all-around. And, apparently, a general menace in his mannerisms. The kind of pain in the ass that you can't help but keep around anyway. The kind of annoyance his friends would later recount with a fond smile on their face. Some of them even showed you a couple pictures; a charming, messy individual with a multitude of piercings and an endearing sort of smirk. To which you would nod in approval-- 'Yeah, with a face like that, he could get away with an awful lot'.

Except murder, apparently. 9 counts of it. 

When asked if they believed the accusations, those who knew him would lose that admiring expression and lower their eyes, unable to say for certain that he was incapable of violence.

"Well, I—I don't know. We always thought of him as a good guy, but on the occasion that he did lose his temper... it wasn't pretty."

His family wasn't very willing to talk to anyone, and you weren't eager to meet them under the circumstances. 

Still, one of Sebastian's buddies let you have a photo of him. You had no memories of him to preserve really, but just in case… You wanted to remember what he looked like when he was free. 

He never did come back to meet you. When he was sentenced to death, it was hard to pretend like it never happened. You were there to see the fear and anger on his face when he was arrested, looked him in the eyes when he was forced into the car. How could you act like that meant nothing? How could you be expected not to grieve the relationship you never even got to start? Even if it was with a serial killer... 

You would have liked to have had that chance, even if it hurt more to have someone you loved taken from you. Better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all, as the saying goes.

It didn't stop you from living out the next several years, of course. Get your degree, your job, have other relationships... But the missing piece was more evident than it had ever been before seeing him. 

The days would pass normally, life went on. At night, though, the silence left you to stare at the ceiling, wondering what it would have been like. Would you fight less with someone who was meant for you? Would he have been just as infuriating as you were told, or would he have been the tender partner you looked for in other people? Maybe the connection meant he would be able to read you unlike anyone else ever had. Or maybe not. It was just a fantasy now, after all.

But lying there, awake at night, what bothered you most was the moral question: If you had gotten to know him, and he was indeed a killer, would you have loved him regardless? Or would you turn him in, doomed to spend your days without him anyway? You're unsure of the answer. 

That question came to mean much more when you saw first-hand just how the law could fail people. When you were successfully framed by a supposed friend. The deliberation was much shorter than you would have liked. They could have at least put a little more thought into it before condemning you for life. 

You were stunned into a haze, disbelieving. The rest of the process and the year following went by in a dissociative blur. The all-encompassing numbness left you alone in your cell with your thoughts, reflecting on the life you had led to that point and, of course, the life you might have led if not for everything that went so wrong.

When Urbanshade came to recruit you, you were unimpressed with them but deemed the choice better than rotting away in your cell until you met your soulmate's same fate. If only you knew.

In the tedious agony of imprisonment and experimentation, memories were really all Sebastian had left. Due to some of the more damaging procedures, lots of those memories became splotchy, harder to hold onto. Sometimes he could only sit in his cell, coiled up, and try not to bawl as he forced the most detailed image he could of his mother's face into his mind, deathly afraid he might lose it if he didn't. Before he was granted any kind of freedom from his rank as a lowly experiment, he regularly spent the days in his too-small tank reliving moments from his adolescence and his last few days as a free man; these were the times he remembered most clearly. 

This, of course, meant that every now and then, he thought back to the day of his arrest, though it pained him. He can only imagine how his family must have felt, how his friends might have come to fear him and try to bury all memory of association with him. He remembered your face. He never got to know your name, never stepped within 10 feet of you. Really, seeing you there was just icing on top of the already shitty cake being forced down his throat. The universe really did have a cruel sense of humor. It felt like being face-to-face with a deity, flashing him with double middle fingers, only to grow a third and later a fourth hand just to do it again.

He wondered sometimes what you thought of him after all was said and done. In his head he had taken to simply calling you naranja, as he never learned your actual name. The thought amused him, though your face was a bit blurry in his memory. He wasn't an idyllic fool—he knew that even if he did make it out, you wouldn't want this monster of a man. But it was a little therapeutic to fantasize.

Now, as a fugitive, he scarcely had the time to think of such things. His life was on the line every minute, he had to be careful of every person he saw, be it Expendable or a potential Urbanshade troop.

So during this scavenge, his senses all kicked on to tell him a human was nearby; probably just another expendable. There was no potent scent of gunpowder emanating that far back, only from the room he was in. Turrets managed by his digitized friend hung overhead. He moved back to the doorway out of the line of fire, ready to loot the body of whoever might fail to get through this trap. Redundantly, Painter appeared on a screen next to Sebastian and let him know a prisoner was about to pass through with a drawn-on face that was a little too excited for Sebastian's taste. Painter was just eager to show his new friend how helpful and efficient he could be for him, that's all!

Seb winced, seeing there was still relatively fresh blood all over the room. Somehow he had even gotten it on himself; what a damn mess-- 

He was about to wipe it off, but looking at his upper left hand, he realized it wasn't blood at all. He brought it up to his face to inspect, confusion showing in his pursed maw and squinting orbs. Painter took no notice and planted his sights on the new expendable, foolishly poking into the doorway.

The string. That accursed string was back—Sebastian's head flicked back up at the clicking of turrets preparing to open fire. 

"WAIT—"  The first few bullets had already flown and scattered vibrant red onto Painter's concrete canvas. His little smile disappeared, and he stopped to question Sebastian's outburst. You clutched your side and collapsed almost instantly. The red yarn threaded around your hand that held your wounds as they bled through the suit, staining your hand and blending with the tie into an inseparable hue.

Sebastian didn't answer Painter's inquiries; instead, he ripped the offending gun off the ceiling and rushed over to where you lay, hesitating only a second before stripping a belt from himself to bind the wounds and gather you up in his arms. 

Painter's annoying pitch continued behind him, "What the hell, Sebastian? I almost had them! It's just another prisoner; what gives?" He received no response from the oversized fish as he grumbled foreign curses., so he continued, "I only have so many bullets, ya know! And put that thing down; it's probably diseased." Visible disgust was drawn onto the screen's features. 

Having finished the wrapping, Sebastian uprights himself and turns to head out the way he came, back towards his hideout. He refrained from punching the little screen in on his way. 

He braved a look down, seeing you barely holding onto consciousness in his three arms. You squinted up at him, clearly very confused about everything happening right now, especially the beast carrying you. (Blue-hued skin, fins, gills, and three glowing blue eyes? Have you lost it? And the feeling of three hands??)

Looking at your face, it all came flooding back. This was undoubtedly the same person. Though, maybe it was the lighting, but you looked more worn down than the last time he saw you. Granted, that was a decade ago, but still.

And here he thought college was the ultimate eye-bag planter. Looked like the outside world treated you worse than he would have figured. For some reason he always imagined you being successful, with or without him. Then again, this was all based on the vibe he got after seeing you for only a few seconds at a distance.

As if his life couldn't get anymore insane, you somehow ended up in this hellhole with him. He was hardly watching where he was going at this point, monitoring your sleepy form carefully. He tried to make sense of it all as he took in every feature he could find. This little human was his. Made just for him, and vice versa. ..God! The thought summoned an unusual flutter in his abdomen.

The foreign urge to nuzzle your burdened face had him mentally slapping himself. 'Don't be weird man. They are literally bleeding into your arms right now.' It had been so, so long since he received a touch he didn't hate. He hoped this might feel different. You were supposed to be meant for each other, weren't you? To call him starved wouldn't do it justice. 

By the time you woke from the shifting sands of sleep, he was still trying to work on your wounds back in his shop. The burn in your injuries broke through your dreams, and you opened your eyes to find another, very startled set looking down at you. 

"Dammit.. I didn't expect you to wake up so soon. Hold still, I know it hurts." He said in a low volume, hoping you wouldn't try to flee from his monstrous claws as they struggled to work a pair of forceps into the bloody hole and remove the last bullet from your torso.

He had no way of knowing if you would survive this or not, couldn't tell if the this particular bullet hit anything vital. The others were embedded in limbs, easily fixed. 

You tensed up, awake now, but didn't struggle, thankfully. Your breaths came and went rapidly as you stared hard at him, like a deer in headlights. Sebastian would have no clue what to do if you started hyperventilating, so the best he could do now was try to distract you from the agony washing over you. 

"Shh, try to relax, I need to remove this last bullet. Then we can just wrap it up and get you some painkillers, okay?" It felt strange, taking on a gentle tone after all this time of having to wear his toughest skin. Unbeknownst to him, it served to soothe you perfectly well.

He wanted to avoid your eyes as he worked, but as insecure as he felt, he just couldn't. Not with the way you stared with such a stricken sort of paralysis. He hoped you weren't about to faint from fear.

While your brain was catching up with you, you finally looked away from his face to look over the rest of him. His hands were the size of your head, claws struggling with the little medical tool more and more as blood coated them. The red thread around his finger didn't fray even as it moistened.

It was him.

The string, the long black hair, the little stubble, the rips in his fins where piercings used to be...

Your gaze trailed back up to his concentrated expression, "Sebastian..."

He noticed, and stopped at the sight; your eyes were watering furiously, pupils expanded 'til they nearly eclipsed your irises as they found his. it was pure adoration written there. 

"Aren't you afraid of me, naranjita? Why... why are you looking at me like that?" He questioned aloud, brows furrowed.

"...No. Should I be?" You finally spoke.

He short-circuited for a moment, realizing he had never heard your voice before, and the one he imagined wasn't quite right, "I..I mean, look at me."

"I am." You wanted to add something else, but let your mouth fall closed. Seeing him now, you finally had the answer to your question. 

He blinked at you, several times, like that would clear anything up. Then he shook his head dismissively and went back to slowly pulling out the bullet shell, which had you wincing and grabbing at the desk for an anchor. After some mild thrashing, your fist found purchase in the grimy sleeve of his unused arm. 

So strange, to think he was finally within arms reach. Finally, the ability to simply touch him. Honestly, it had been starting to feel like he was fictional. 

"Are you always this cryptic?" He grumbled. 

You just smiled at him through the pain of him finally pulling the brass material free of your skin. Your fingers clamped harder onto his shoulder at the motion. "Have you always been part fish, or is that a recent thing? Also, did you call me an orange??" you choked out.

He set the objects aside and shot you an incredulous look, "Don't worry about it. How... did you end up down here?" Truthfully, he was afraid of the answer.

"Framed for murder. You?" You glanced around his little shop, registering how small it is for a being his size. There were files and gadgets everywhere, some he clearly worked on himself. The way you casually surveyed the room was almost impressive to him. You were so...calm. Who or whatever put you together must realize he would need someone very collected, all things considered.

Relief washed over him, "Same here. You clearly already have my name, so didn't you get the memo?"

"Moved away after college. Couldn't stand to think about it." You explained.

The beat of silence was suffocating. As much as you enjoyed watching his hands work, you felt like you'd explode if you stopped hearing his voice, so you went on, "I did... ask around, about you. Got your name, asked classmates what you were like."

He hummed in understanding and moved to get more comfortable, propped up on his side now with mirth in his eyes, "Oh yeah? And what did they say?" His massive tail drifted lazily back and forth across the floor. He was so big that even laying down, he was at eye level with you where you laid across the desk.

"That you were kind of an asshole." You grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes, "Can't say that surprises me. I'll let you judge for yourself, I suppose. Though, fair warning, I'm much less of a people-person, these days..." He cleared his throat, "You know how it is. Human experimentation, years of isolation, malnutrition, followed by varying degrees of discrimination— Makes a guy kinda grouchy." 

You played along with his obvious attempt at coping, "Oh yeah yeah, totally. Been there." Internally, you felt like your lungs were constricting at the admission. It hurt that the one who was supposed to be your lover had to endure all that suffering, instead. Still suffering.

There was a brief awkward silence. Sebastian got up again and began properly dressing your wounds. "So... you know my name, clearly, but have yet to give me yours. Forgetting your manners, much? I think I've waited long enough to hear it."

You mentally facepalmed at the realization and gave him your name. For the first time, he gives you an authentic smile. The shape of his lips makes it look slightly off, but it's warm and genuine nonetheless. "It's good to meet you. Formally." 

You agreed, though he didn't miss how your expression fell. "What is it?" He added your name, trying it out. It felt...nice. He liked finally having a name for the pretty lil' face.

"It's just... You've been down here, this entire time. Almost literally, right under my feet. When the string was gone again... I was sure you were dead." He listened attentively as you finished, "I was starting to think we'd just have to meet in the next life, ha.."

Sebastian finished with the bandages, careful not to catch his claws on your comparatively fragile skin. "Well... We're here now." He quickly added, "I-I understand that you may not want much to do with me, but if needed I'll be—"

He was cut off by you scooting to the edge of the table and pushing your face against his shirt. "...here." He twitched and his tail flicked uneasily, but with some courage, he brought a hand to rest across your back.

You spoke again through the muffling of the material, "I don't know where you've been, or where you're going from here... But I want to go with you. If you'll accept me. I lost you once, I'd rather not do that again."

His flukes slapped the floor and ear-fins fluttered against his will. What was he supposed to say to such a profound request? Certainly not 'no'. Still... "Putting your life in the hands of a giant fish mutant with homicidal tendencies? You must not be very bright, huh?" That last part sort of just came out. He winced at his subconscious attempt to push a potential bond away.

You lifted your head momentarily to crane your neck upwards and rest your chin on his chest to gaze at him. "Better yours than mine, seeing as how I landed myself here." you smiled, "If staying with you is stupid, I don't want to be bright. ...I dreamt about you, you know. I've always wanted to know what this would have been like."

He returned your eye contact with flattened fins and darkening cheeks, "Idiot. Fine, your funeral." With more confidence, he picked you up by the arms and got into his corner, placing you safely in his coils. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. For now, however, you need to rest." He shuffled a bit, unsure how to position his top half with you wrapped up in his tail. You smiled fondly, completely ignoring the absurdity of the situation, and gestured to guide him to lay upon his scales right beside you.

The red string tangled through his tail and around you. For the first time since the lockdown started, he slept more than 3 hours, content and warm.