Chapter Text
The first time John noticed, really noticed, the name inscribed on his wrist was when he was 6 years old. He had been standing next to Mrs. Watson as she was baking his favourite chocolate chip cookies, and he had looked down and seen a word seemingly tattooed into the skin in faint lettering, the tone just slightly darker than his summer sun-tanned skin. He had looked up at his mum and asked,
“What does this word mean? Why is it there?”
Her eyes had widened but she seemed unsurprised, having gone through a similar situation with Harry almost 2 years before. She stopped stirring and knelt down, smoothing out her frilled baby blue apron in the process. She took his wrist and indicated it to him.
“This, John, is a name. Not just any name, though: your soulmate’s name.”
“Soulmate?”
“The person that you’ll be with for the rest of your life, just like your father and I.”
“Oh, okay. What does it say?”
She glanced down and took a small second to read it. “William.” She frowned slightly but seemed to accept it right away. “John, you and Harry seem to be in the same boat because of this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how most of the couples you see are a man and a woman right?”
John nodded, and answered, “Yeah, but Mr. Karwell is a couple with a man. I saw them the other day.”
“Yes, because some men like men and some women like women. Harry has a girl’s name on her wrist, and you have a boy’s name. Anybody is allowed to love anybody else.”
“Isn’t that how it already is?”
“It should be, but some people don’t like that, though. You’ll have to be careful, because unfortunately some people aren’t able to see true love that’s right in front of them and decide to be mean to those who are boys that like boys and those who are girls and like girls. I wish I could somehow knock some sense into those other people, John, I really do.”
John frowned, and said quietly, “So… Some people might be mean to me if they see the name on my wrist?”
Mrs. Watson sighed, “Yes.”
“Okay.”
She stood up and John began examining the name on his wrist, tracing the fine lettering with his finger.
“Also, John, it can be considered impolite to look at a person’s name without asking first. It’s a very… Personal thing to some people.”
John looked up at her and nodded. “Like not asking people why they’re wearing a wig?”
Mrs. Watson chuckled at the memory, and said, “Yeah, just like that.”
“Okay. But why does Mr. Barnukel wear a wig?”
“He doesn’t want people to know that he doesn’t have hair anymore.”
John just shook his head, “I don’t understand.”
“One day you will, dear.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
It happened for the first time when he was 13. He was walking home from school with his friend, Oliver. John was holding his backpack straps with both hands, and the two boys were laughing at something that had happened that day to another one of the boys named Victor. Suddenly behind them another boy called out.
“John! Hey John Watson!”
The two boys turned, and Oliver’s eyes widened. John looked at him in confusion, then looked back at the 3 older boys approaching them. It didn’t look like anything was amiss until they began shouting at him.
“Hey faggot!”
“How’s it like being a fairy? Huh, faggot?”
“Fucking pansy, you shouldn’t show your face around here.”
John’s stomach seemed to sink to the ground, and Oliver grabbed his arm and said in a panic,
“Run!”
The two boys turned and bolted, trying to keep ahead of the older boys who were also bigger than them with longer legs. It was a fight between the two groups: which one could run the fastest but most of all which group was the most desperate. John couldn’t help but start yelling, “Mum! Mum!” when they got close to John’s house. Mr. Watson came bolting from around the corner of the house and saw the two boys sprinting towards him. They got behind him and looked back at the group of boys that had been chasing them, but they were standing a couple of houses down. Mr. Watson glared at them, which the group obviously saw and rushed off. John was nearly in tears and so was Oliver, who was still panting from the running.
“Why were those boys chasing the two of you?” Mr. Watson asked, looking down at them.
“’Cause of my wrist, Dad.” John exposed his wrist to Mr. Watson, but he didn’t need to look. He already knew, and Mr. Watson’s face had hardened, anger glinting in his eyes.
“You’ll take a different route from school, alright? Oliver, would your mum be okay with this?”
“Yeah, she should be.” “Okay, good. I’ll ask your sister to go with the two of you from now on. If I ever catch those boys again, their parents will hear about it. Go inside now, I’ll explain this to your mother.”
John nodded, but Oliver added, “I should go home now, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mate.” “Alright, see ya.” John went inside as his friend walked down the street, with Mr. Watson ahead of him making his way to the kitchen. John felt a bit relieved at being safer inside his house. The familiar hallway in front of him that opened into the living room smelled vaguely of hamburgers, and it made John feel a bit hungry but he had no appetite. He just collapsed on the couch face down and groaned.
“Rough day at school, was it?”
John turned his head slightly so that he could regard Harry. She was nearing 15 now, and was sitting in an armchair with her drawing notebook open in her lap. Her legs were tucked underneath her, and she was idly playing with one of the 5 different necklaces she had around her neck. Her spiky dyed black and purple hair made her stormy-grey eyes glint with playfulness all the time, but at that moment John didn’t feel like playing around.
“No, not really, just… These guys chased Oliver and I down from 3 streets over.”
Harry frowned and asked, “Why?”
John didn’t really want to talk about it. Mummy had warned him that one day people might not like the fact that he had a boy’s name on his wrist, but John guessed that maybe he had just been living in a bubble where he hadn’t really believed that would ever happen.
Mr. Watson came in at that moment with Mrs. Watson in tow.
"Harry, you’re going to need to walk with John to school now.”
“What? Why?”
“Some boys decided that being homophobic was the right way to go and chased your little brother and Oliver.”
Her eyes widened. She had always been gay, never taking any interest in guys. She hadn’t felt the hate towards gays as much as a boy would, and the fact that John was now getting some of the bullying that she had witnessed seemed to shock her and even worry her.
Nodding, she answered quickly, “Okay, I will.”
“You’re not going to fight and kick and scream about it?” John asked just then, honestly curious. Harry was currently in a very rebellious phase, and a day didn’t go by without their parents and her disagreeing.
“No. It’s too important and anyway I have no reason to go against it. No one is ever laying a finger on you, John. Not if I can help it.”
John smiled at that, and their sibling rivalry seemed to be forgotten for that night. The next morning and every school morning and afternoon after that, Harry would always be waiting for John, rain or shine. The 3 boys would sometimes follow their group from a distance, yelling out occasional slurs. It only stopped when the boys seemingly got older and went off to college, much to the relief of John. It was nice to not have to worry about other people caring about the simple lettering imbedded in his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, John. How are ya?”
John looked over at the brunette sitting next to him. Her long dark brown hair was tied back in a neat sophisticated pigtail, and her large rimmed black glasses almost made her look like the nerdiest girl in the whole school. John wasn’t put off by people who were stereotyped as nerds, but for the lack of a better word he always found himself describing her that way.
“Hey, Tara. I’m alright, you?”
“Well, could’ve been better but you know, good company like yours will help.”
She smiled shyly at John, and he couldn’t help but smile back. They had been in the same university class for the past 2 months, and it really turned out well when she had run in late and the only seat left was next to him. She ducked her head and pushed her hair back behind her ear, and it was so adorable that John couldn’t help but ask what he had been wanting to ask for a long time:
“Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?”
Her warm brown eyes met his and she answered, “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
The two of them ignored the words inscribed in their wrists. The names only showed that the person who they would connect the most with, but only if they ever met. Many couples weren’t in sync with what was on their wrists, and that was perfectly okay. Tara’s parents were one of those couples, and they had stayed married for almost 24 years now. The names didn’t really dictate your fate; it just showed you that this certain person, out there, was perfect for you. Everyone else can only fall short.
Those were the words that John remembered throughout his and Tara’s relationship. They dated for 9 months, until it came to an end because they just weren’t great together as a romantic couple. They stayed friends, but when John went off with the army they lost contact.
Looking back on it, John didn’t really understand why he did what he did while in Afghanistan. Every time a soldier died in his care, he made a point of discreetly looking at the name on their wrist. The person that the name belonged to would now never find their perfect match. It felt like it had to be done, to at least acknowledge the living person that was now alone in the world. At night, when all you could hear was the deafening silence of uneasy temporary peace and the soft wind blowing through the dunes of sand, sometimes John wondered if William was already dead. You weren’t able to know if your other half died, all you could have is a life of endless what ifs. Sometimes, if John felt like that this was it, his death had come, he would sometimes find himself thinking a silent apology to William. It was life, though, and somehow he got through all those fights. It was so like himself, to apologize to someone he had never even met. His heart sometimes felt too full of empathy.
It was during one of such fights that he found himself apologizing.
I’m so sorry, William. I hope you could forgive me.
Dear God, let me live.
The bullets flew past him as he ducked down, covering a wounded soldier on the ground. He was in a crumbled building that still surprisingly had a roof, and he was mostly covered. He took out his medipack and began working, shushing the soldier when he moaned in pain. The soldier had two bullet wounds, one of which would prove to be fatal and John couldn’t do anything about it. He squashed down the feeling of helplessness and grabbed the man’s hand.
“Soldier, look at me. Soldier!”
The man opened his eyes slightly to regard John dizzily. He was losing consciousness, fading fast.
“Tell… My wife…”
Before he could finish, John’s mate Benjamin came crashing through the wooden door, shooting blindly behind him.
“John! You need to move, NOW!”
John took one last look at the man on the ground, and saw that he had stopped breathing. He grabbed his wrist and saw the lettering. Karen.
John stood up, his head going slightly dizzy from the sudden pressure change but adjusting quickly from having done it so often. He grabbed his gun and aimed it forward, walking at a half-crouched fast pace through the rest of the building. When he got to another door, he looked back at Benjamin, who was covering his back. John kicked down the door and burst through, swinging around to check that the coast was clear. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he could barely hear above the ringing caused by the constant litany of gunshots around him. He didn’t know whether he was feeling the thrill of the chase or the gut-wrenching fear of impending death, and really, he didn’t care all too much.
They cut around a corner and stopped to catch their breaths once they saw the coast was clear.
“Jesus, they’re coming at us much harder than usual.” Benjamin said through deep breaths, calming himself down like every soldier had been taught to do. John nodded his agreement, and scanned their surroundings again. They were in an alley, open to the street at both ends, but the noise was a bit muffled by the high walls that were still miraculously standing after the recent bombings. He swallowed, and replied,
“We need to keep moving. Our orders were to retreat.”
“Okay.”
They began walking in the opposite direction that they had come from, keeping low and keeping their guard up on high alert. Once they got to the end of the alley, John glanced around the corner at the empty street. It was littered with building fragments and tumbled-over military vehicles, but was surprisingly almost silent, as they had gotten away from the main gunfight. Seeing no one, he nodded to Benjamin and went first, keeping low and running as fast as he could to the other side of the street.
They were halfway when a series of curt shouts in a foreign language rang through the empty air. Before John could throw himself onto the ground behind a truck, a couple shots were fired, and he barely registered the sounds before being knocked back slightly by a sudden immense pressure in his shoulder. John screamed a blood-curdling scream and collapsed behind the truck.
“John! Look at me, don’t lose consciousness, fucking Christ did it seriously have to be the doctor to get shot, fuck, bloody hell bloody hell BLOODY HELL!”
Benjamin was frantically searching through his pack, but John could barely concentrate. Everything had taken a sort of blurry quality, and his hearing had cut as if he was underwater. The effect lasted only a few seconds before the pain, oh god the pain!
John groaned loudly, and Benjamin was shouting for back up into the walkie-talkie that he had found. John started to feel his consciousness dissipating, fading away and leaving the sides of his vision almost black. As his eyes shut closed and his mouth still open in a silent scream of torture, his only thoughts were of pain and fear.
Oh, god, I’m about to die.
Oh god.
Fuck, I don’t want to die.
Please, God, let me live. Please, I beg you…
When his vision went completely black and all that was left was utter deafening silence.
Right before he really succumbed to the darkness, his very last thought echoed weakly through his head.
I’m so sorry, William. I really, truly, am.