This is the story of how the first pair of soulmates came to be.
It starts with Stiles and Peter. It ends with Stiles and Peter.
Fuck, the middle is all about them, too.
Okay, basically, the whole thing's about Stiles and Peter.
After all, it was always meant to be Stiles and Peter.
Always.
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The manifestation of soulmates may start with them, but this story—if you want to get technical—does not. In fact, it starts with nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And then there's a bang. A big, create-the-foundation-of-the-universe kind of bang.
And then there's space and time and Earth and water and sunlight and dirt.
And a garden.
In this garden, walks a lone creature.
It's a he, this creature.
He's tall, strong, and in the prime of his life. His skin is tan and he can feel bristly hairs growing on his chin. He's the first of his kind—the first of any kind—and he's ever so curious. And ever so lonely.
"Can I have another like me to talk to?" he asks his Creator one day.
They consider his request, whispering into the winds, "You would like another?"
He smiles up at the blue sky and nods. "Yes. Someone else—someone just for me."
The Creator mulls it over before replying, "I'll see what I can do."
He—Adam, yes, Adam is his name—is happy with this answer. At least he is, up until three days later when he's missing a rib and a stranger is standing next to him.
"What the fuck?" Adam growls up at the sky, clutching his throbbing chest. "A little warning would have been appreciated." He glances over at his new companion. It looks sort of like him, but it's missing some dangling parts and has way too much hair.
"I'm Eve," the other creature tells him with a sunny smile.
"Eve," he repeats, skeptical. After all, it stole his fucking rib.
"For you," the wind whispers. "It is another, like you asked. A she just for you."
Adam forces himself not to scowl—he's learned the hard way that dissent makes the Creator angry.
I asked for another like me, Adam muses, taking in, again, the complete lack of dangling bits. He breathes out a sigh and decides to make the best of it.
It takes all of four hours before Adam realizes this just isn't going to work.
Like, at all.
But he continues to engage, knowing that the Creator is keeping a watchful eye on him and his new companion. Adam lets her talk his ears off about just how wonderful the flowers and the grass are, about how their Creator is wonderful, how the air is wonderful, how Adam is wonderful.
It's all so very...wonderful.
It makes him want to scream. She wants to know nothing. He wants to know why—but he has no idea where to go from there. He's stuck in his head with a niggling, important question, and he has no way to push forward. He has no way to answer the one question that constantly plagues him.
