Banana Fish short stories | ✔

Tatoo of soulmates

In which soulmates have the same tattoos in the exact same place. I'm sorry for not updating these last few days.  Sorry for the short update but I'm trying to wrap up this project and yet I have dozen or so drafts.

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It's a bird. On his wrist, ever since he could remember. He always had it. A little bird flying in the air, its wings wide open while it looked like it could sail away at a moment's notice. Ash would often stare at it - sometimes not so subtly, hoping it doesn't leave. It never did. When Griffin was with him he would tell stories to Ash, about soulmates and their happiness. Birds that represent freedom with their wings that can fly them over any obstacles. One bed-night story stuck with Ash especially clear.

"Soulmate, that is someone that can truly understand you no matter what. They will be there for you when you need them the most. Once you find them, they will never leave. Being around them will set your mind at ease. Why? That's because they are your other half. You're the whole person yourself. But they are like another sock, you don't have to find it, but it's better together. According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. The only trace of who your other half is a single tattoo on your skin, exactly the same one as your soulmate. That's why Aslan, I hope you find your soulmate, then I'm sure you will be happy forever." Little Ash - who was seated on his big brother's lap, looked up. "But I'm happy now too. I don't need soulmate with you here." Griffin looked down sadly, aware that he won't be able to stay with him for much longer. He pressed his lips on the blond hair "If you say so."

Ash looked up from the book. With a sigh, he left the library. He sometimes thinks about them, his soulmate. He sometimes wonders how it would be if they met, but he never lets himself sink into thoughts. He's aware that his type of life isn't even remotely close to safety so he never lets himself ponder on the thoughts of his so-called holder of happiness. 

* * *

It happened a few times in the last serval weeks since they moved to Japan; Eiji stumbling in the kitchen towards the rich aroma of coffee then peeking out of the window overlooking their garden and finding Ash already there. He would be sitting in their swing, bent down or laying down with book sited between his legs, or being held up above Ash who was tracing the letters peacefully. 

It was one place he chose as his. One place where he didn't ask if he could be. In the rest of the house, he was still careful. Asking before touching things as if he had no rights on them; as if he was a guest.

And he was, but Eiji had always tried to make Ash feel at home here. First, it was garden, and soon - Eiji hoped,  the house will feel like home too. He wanted it most in the whole world; Ash to want to be there, next to him. 

Eiji relaxed at the pictures of serenity and hurried to snap a photo of it. Looking it over, a small, fond smile appeared on his face. "Ash, breakfast time." He called when he was close enough for Ash to hear him, but far enough to not startle him. Ash looked over his dark-framed glasses and smiled at Eiji "coming." Eiji smiled back.