It was common enough to have similar, generic phrases appear, marking quiet, ordinary first meetings between destined couples, pairings who were meant to be.
But to have an uncommon greeting such as this and for it to be marked in the exact phrasing-
“What do you think it means, Sixer?” Stan traced the letters of the word over his wrist, his eyes squinting.
“Why would anyone say ‘run’ before saying something like ‘hello’?”
Ford shrugged, eyes flicking up to his 13-year-old brother. “It's not that weird. What's peculiar is that we both have it.”
“You think we have the same soulmate?”
“That's ridiculous, Stanley.” Ford replied, almost absently as he wrote in his notebook.
“The odds of us being connected to the same person is practically non-existent.”
“So there's a chance?” Stan grinned excitedly.
“Well, yes, but it's so small it may as well not be there.”
“But a teeny tiny chance is still a chance!” Stan protested with a snort, growing exasperated at his brother's denial.
Ford rolled his eyes but had to concede that Stan wasn't wrong.
Years later, Stan found himself deep in the woods of Oregon, wandering with Ford by his side.
Becoming paranormal investigators hadn't been part of their plans- hell, nothing about what they did now had been planned.
“This way, Sixer.” Stan told him curtly as he followed his nose, instincts itching beneath his skin.
Ford turned his way, his own jaw set grimly.
“How close are we?”
“I'd get your pretty little gun out.” Stan replied grimly, eyes dilating into feral slits.
The piercing cry of someone in stark terror and distress sent them both careening in the same direction.
Stan immediately felt off. His gut twisted as they came across the figure huddled against a boulder, shaking and trembling in what appeared to be terror-
He could hear their heart, pounding against their ribs, almost in sync with his own-
“It's alright-” Ford called, deep voice terse even as he spun around to face away, gun held out and down as he watched their back, tensed for the ensuing confrontation. The beast was out here somewhere-
“You're safe-” Stan spoke at almost the same time as Ford, moving forward to comfort the trembling body-
Smells off, something ain't right, their heart, it's thundering like mine does when I-
His blood ran cold as they looked up, eyes dilated into inhuman slits that matched the wildness of the monster that howled within the corridors of his mind. Their mouth opened, lips tracing the word scrawled along his wrist-
The cry that echoed from their mouth was almost inhumane and if any other circumstance, Stan would already be shifting, skin ripping and peeling to unleash the wolf beneath.
Run.
His wrist itched with the word, his ears rang with the sound of it.
He heard Ford’s breath stutter, felt a tremor in his chest as his heart clenched and thudded through his ears.
“You-”
But before his eyes, the figure was shifting, howling in animal pain.
Ford was locked up, eyes wide with horror, his numerous thoughts skipping like a broken record, breath short, drowning out the howl of the beast they'd been hunting.
It couldn't be. This was impossible.
The fabled shared soulmate he'd been so sure didn't exist was snarling like a beast before them, eyes wild and reflecting red in the moonlight.
In that moment of hesitation, it was just long enough for the newly turned lycanthrope to lunge forward, teeth flashing hungrily.
Stan barreled at the wolf, fur sprouting from his arms as he made to intercept them- however, to both their surprise, the wolf ran past them, loping into the darkness. Without hesitation, Stan followed, howling as he pursued them.
Ford fumbled with his gun, cursing as he ran after them, his heart pounding in his ribs.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to go-!
“Since when do they ever, Sixer?”
He ignored the itch beneath his skin, feeling the heat of the protective sigils that were inked around his head, hidden by his hair.
The demon had taken interest once more, but Ford was past caring- his soulmate was real, existed, and they were under the same curse he’d tried to save Stan from.
There isn’t much time-
8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8
The discordance of logic and instinct was thrown aside in favor of the chase- Stan never felt more alive than when he was running at full tilt in wolf-form, body stretching and bunching with the drive to hunt, to chase, to catch-
But there was something different about right now. His instincts were driving him beyond hunger, beyond the craving for blood and gore-
The human in him had seen his destined other half, an entity he’d fully given up on ever finding, but now, the wolf in him was snarling and writhing with the need, the instinctive desire to catch and hold onto his mate with teeth and claws-
He snarled as they turned sharply, moving far quicker than he would have expected, but what Stan lacked in speed, even in this form, he made up for in tenacity. He’d chase them to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took-
The scent of his brother was nearly all but forgotten, and he regained some of his mind, his purpose only slightly as he shifted his course slightly, mind fixated now on herding their quarry.
They were filled with the rage and fever of a first blood, but without sustenance, Stan sensed they would not be able to keep this pace up forever- eventually, they’d tire, and then-
Without warning, he caught up to them- They’d stopped running and had turned to face him, ears pinned back, teeth bared.
He dug his claws into the earth as he scrambled to course correct- however, they weren’t looking at him. Their teeth weren’t meant for him.
Stan’s heart palpitated and it was with a sickening inhale that he realized there was a new scent in the air as the wind shifted.
There was another wolf in the woods... The one who had turned them to begin with.
The monster he and Ford had been sent to hunt.
In all the confusion, Stan had completely lost track of the scent, and now, it filled his nose and sent him into a possessive rage. He twisted around, just in time to collide with the heavy body of the older, wild werewolf.
Teeth flashed and snarls rang through the woods.
The scent of blood spilling, the sting of fresh wounds closing back again-
It was a dance that Stan had done before- fighting his own kind never got any easier, but it was never prolonged either, because the goal, the purpose was to buy time-
The expected gunshot rang out, cutting through the noise all too easily.
Stan’s opponent went down with a squeal, shuddering and trying to stumble back to his feet, but Stan knocked him back down again with a snarl, keeping him pinned until he was unconscious.
Ford emerged from the shadows, and Stan relaxed, stepping off the body as Ford approached cautiously.
“Stanley?” He questioned quietly and Stan wagged his tail in response.
Behind him, he sensed the presence of their soulmate, who had hunkered down by a fallen log. Stan left the unconscious body of their quarry to approach the newly changed werewolf, ears forward and head lowered, gauging their reaction cautiously.
They made no aggressive motion and he drew closer.
Their scent filled his nose and he found himself circling around them, curling his larger body around theirs, nosing into their fur with inquisitive huffs.
Ford finished binding the fallen werewolf and administered the suppressant, rubbing his eyes before observing his brother curl around their soulmate.
Now that the crisis seemed averted and the woods were quiet, he allowed himself the luxury to think and marvel at the coincidence that had brought them here, to Stan snuggling with another of his kind.
A tangle of yearning filled him and he felt his wide palms itch slightly with the urge to reach out and confirm that this was real, but he restrained himself.
“You watch them, Stan. I’ll go get the truck.” He said quietly before turning on his heel, still processing things.
The skeptic in him questioned whether the new werewolf could truly be his soulmate- after all, they would have to have both his and stan’s words on their arms. This couldn’t be the case…
Deep down, he knew this was incorrect. His wrist itched where the single word was written, and he felt his heart pound, emotions strangling his breath with an unspoken longing.
Did he want a soulmate?
Yes, he did, more than anything.
Did he want to share a soulmate with his brother?
… that was a less definitive answer. He shared so much with Stanley, it seemed unfair that they should even share the same destined partner.
“You’re damn right! Why should you let him have all the fun, Sixer? You’re always letting him have the best of everything, when do you get to have what you want?”
Ford viciously slammed the truck door closed as he started the engine and cautiously drove out towards where he’d left his brother with the bound werewolf and… and their soulmate.
We’ll figure it out. We always do.
8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8~8
You woke up with an incredible thirst, as if you hadn’t had anything to drink in forever. Your body felt far too warm and you stirred with a groan- heavy blankets were heaped on top of you.
Confusion was paramount in your emotions, as well as a pounding headache. Where were you?
Vague memories flashed through your head- and with a sudden whimper, you hugged your arms around yourself.
The bite. The wolf bite.
It had followed you, waiting in the shadows, chasing you until you were driven mad with anxiety and some unbearable urge to be in the woods, away from people- except for the two men who had tracked you down and spoken words you had longed to hear all your life.
“It’s alright”
“You’re safe.”
You had never felt these kind of reassurances in your life. From the beginning, you had struggled to find your way, to find a place to be safe, to be loved and accepted.
The words on your arms had been both a beacon of hope and a cruel, cruel joke to you all your life.
You shifted as your hearing picked up muffled voices from the other room, and then, there was the approach of footsteps.
Your heart thundered as you struggled to sit up, anxiety bubbling in you.
Instead of the door swinging open, there was a knock and a gruff, concerned voice.
“Hey, you alive in there?”
“Uh, y-yeah…” You called back nervously. With consternation, you realized that you were naked and you hugged the blankets close to your chest.
“There’s clothes on the stool. I know you’re thirsty and hungry. Get dressed, we’ll take care of you, alright?”
You licked your lips, feeling the cotton something awful as you croaked.
“Alright.”
“That’s the spirit. Just come down the hall, y’can’t miss the kitchen.”
You didn’t get up until you heard the footsteps recede and you carefully slipped out from under the thick blankets, putting on the oversized clothes gratefully before catching sight of yourself in the mirror.
You looked healthier than you had in a very long time… and since when were you able to see so clearly without glasses?
Ignoring these concerns, you took a deep breath and made your way to the kitchen.
More memories came flooding back when you saw the near identical faces of the two men who waited for you in the kitchen. A tall pitcher of water, along with a glass, sat at an empty chair, along with a heaping plate of sausage, bacon, eggs and a stack of pancakes.
Your mouth watered and before you knew it, you were scarfing down the food, hungrier than you could ever recall feeling. The water disappeared, and you ignored the stares of your would-be saviors.
Once you had regained some semblance of sanity, you looked up sheepishly.
“I’m sorry for being rude.”
“Don’t worry about it, toots. I’ve been where you are- the hunger and thirst are killer.” It was the voice of the man who had knocked at your door. His hair was long and tied back in a ponytail, amber eyes fixed on your arms curiously.
You shuddered, feeling your left arm tingle under his gaze.
“Are you feeling better?” The other man asked, his voice deep but less gravelly.
“I… I think so.”
The same man cleared his throat.
“My name’s Ford. This is my brother, Stanley. I realize this is very unconventional, but can you show us your arm?”
You smiled, somewhat shyly.
“I can… if you both show me yours.”
You held out both your arms. Ford inhaled sharply, as if he couldn’t believe it.
The words he and Stanley had spoken to you were scrawled on both your arms, one phrase on your left, and the other on your right.
Wordlessly, he and Stan pulled up their sleeves and showed you their wrists, where your plea for them to run was scrawled.
“... I never thought I’d actually find you.” You confessed, heart full of tangled emotions.
“I confess… this is unexpected for us too-”
“Speak for yourself, poindexter, I knew they existed the whole time.”
“... this is unexpected for me.”
You gave a soft laugh at Stanley’s bluster before a sobering thought caught up with you.
“What do we do now?”
Ford adjusted his glasses.
“I assume you’re aware that you share the same condition as my brother does. If you wish it, you may stay with us. Stanley takes a suppressant, which, I can start making double the amount so that you can be treated with it as well-”
“You will stay with us, right?” Stan cut in, and your heart pounded at the pleading tone in his voice.
He didn’t know a thing about you, neither of them did, but they wanted you. You could see it in the way they both looked at you, eyes warm and pleading.
“I’d really like that.” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up.
The way both of them lit up, it went straight to your heart, buried itself deep and you knew, without a doubt, that you’d really found your place.
