There were a lot of types. He had gotten that book out of the library, and become transfixed by the hundreds of different types a person could be. Some soulmates always wore the same colour, some people had a symbol, rather than writing, marked on them somewhere, and some heard each other's thoughts in the back of their mind. That must be so weird.
There were darker ones as well, though; feeling each other's pain, hurting when the other does, seeing all the other sees, gaining the same fears and prejudices. The list went on forever. At least he had some new ideas. He tried to think if she had ever seemed like she was feeling the same as he was, but that was such an odd thing to notice, he didn't think he would have picked up on it if he wasn't looking for it. He didn't think they wore the same colours.
He'd made it in to the rugby team, thank god, and was put in for matches multiple times over the next few weeks, driving the issue from his mind. He loved rugby. He got ridiculously bruised, and had the scars to prove he'd been playing for a long time, but he loved it. Having sprained his wrist and broken a toe in the last match, he wasn't feeling particularly up for figuring her out on Monday morning.
During English - the only class he spent with her- he was feeling a little more adjusted to the way he had to move in order to avoid hurting himself. As she walked in, he noticed her limping a little. Not badly, but enough for him to notice. He really needed to stop; all the studying in the library hadn't helped him figure her out, but only made her more confusing. He greeted her as she sat down, careful not to touch her. She swung her bag under the desk, wincing when her hand hit the side. He smiled, "You alright?"
She sighed without looking at him, "I'm fine." Maybe she's realised I'm her soulmate and doesn't like it, he thought, panicking. His stomach sank, dragging his heart down with it. "You sure? Are you hurt? You were limping a bit when you came in," Maybe I'm being paranoid, he thought hopefully.
"I'm fine. I haven't hurt myself," Maybe I'm not, he thought dispiritedly. She wasn't telling him anything. He exhaled quietly, and tried not to irritate her.
He just didn't get it. Every week she would come to school seemingly in more pain (or perhaps just more frustrated) than the last. He hadn't realised how many scars she had. Almost as many as himself, he thought, his mind racing to the most dreadful ideas; he dearly hoped no one was hurting her, or that she hadn't made them herself. She couldn't of, as one was right on the small of her back - he'd seen when her shirt rose up when she'd stretched. He'd smiled a little to himself at that one; it was curved like a moon, and matched one like he had. He liked they were at least a little connected, even though his soulmate type seemed to be one- sided. Her legs were covered in bruises, and you couldn't give yourself bruises . . . could you? His brain was bending over backwards trying to figure it out. He was sitting in his form room after lunch break, still trying to solve the problem, when she walked in, looking ready to kill.
"You have got to stop hurting yourself so much!" she shouted, her chest rising and falling rapidly as if she'd run over there just to tell him that extra even more mind- boggling piece of information. "What do you mean?"
"You have bruises everywhere! And scars! And why do you always have a split lip?" He was thoroughly confused now. "I don't always have a split lip," He mumbled, feeling his split lip with his tongue, "Why do you think that, anyway?" She glared at him. He tried to explain, "I play rugby. Uh, if you haven't seen it-" She interrupted, looking outraged.
"I've played the stupid sport, and I never got this injured!" His brain started to signal to him what was going on, but he hadn't quite grasped it yet. "Why are you paying special attention to my injuries anyway?" He asked, trying to calm her down by diverting the conversation from rugby. She took a deep breath, "Because, you idiot, when you get hurt, so do I." His brow creased, "What- What do you- I mean-I,"
Then it clicked, "That's your soulmate thing?"
