“What did you do?” The hero’s voice was flat, the words sharp like an accusation, though their eyes betrayed a flash of something—hurt? Confusion? It didn’t matter. They didn’t get to act like they were the victim here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the villain shrugged their shoulders, trying to look as casual as possible. They couldn’t let the hero see how much this was eating at them—how deeply it hurt, even if they wanted to pretend otherwise.
“Don’t be coy.”
“Well, maybe you should be more specific.” The villain grinned, a little too wide, a little too innocent. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“Your mark,” the hero said through gritted teeth. “It’s gone.”
“Oh. That.” The villain took a step back, glancing at their now-bare wrist, the place where the mark had once been—where their bond to the hero had once lived. “I guess it finally decided to take a vacation. I hope it’s having fun, you know, away from the whole ‘soulmate’ thing.” They paused, letting the words sink in with a mischievous glint in their eyes. “It might’ve needed some space. Some people had real strong opinions about it and they weren’t shy about making their opinions known.”
“For good reason.”
“There’s never a good reason to tell your soulmate to fuck off, you know,” the villains scoffed. “Aren’t all of you goody two shoes supposed to know that? That’s like chapter one on ‘How to be a Decent Human Being’.”
“Not everyone’s soulmate goes around murdering people.”
“Oh yeah, because you’ve never killed a single person in your entire life,” the villain’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“It’s not the same,” the hero ground out, barely holding back the rage.
The villain crossed their arms, their voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Oh, it’s very much the same. You kill people because they don’t agree with you, and I—” They spread their arms with a slow, mocking flourish, “—do the exact same thing. Only, I’m honest about it. You’re just a hypocrite in shiny armour.”
“You don’t get to compare us,” the hero hissed. “You kill because you like it. I do it to protect people, to stop you.”
The villain let out a short laugh, bitter and sharp. “You really still believe that, don’t you? That you’re the good guy? How precious. We both know you’re just as capable of cruelty as I am.”
“That’s not—” The hero took a deep breath, trying to steady themself. “We’re soulmates. That should mean something.”
“Should it?” The villain raised an eyebrow, their voice laced with venom. “Because it doesn’t feel like it means a damn thing. You never wanted it. I was the one who tried to make peace with it, to accept it. You rejected it. You rejected me.”
The hero’s eyes flickered with a flash of guilt, but they quickly masked it with anger. “You’re a villain. You’re everything I fight against.”
“And you’re the hero, right?” The villain’s lip curled into a sneer. “The shining knight who thinks they have all the answers. Well, guess what? I don’t need your approval. I didn’t need your mark either.”
The hero’s voice was dangerously low. “What did you do?”
The villain gave a dramatic shrug, their hand flapping in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, nothing major. Just broke up with fate. Made a deal with a god, got it erased. No big deal.” They grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the paperwork, though. Gods really need to streamline their processes.”
The hero was silent for a moment, processing what they were hearing. “You… erased it? You got rid of it? You didn’t... you didn’t have to do that.”
“Didn’t I?” The villain tilted their head, letting the sarcasm drip from their words like honey. “Because, from where I was standing, it seemed like you were the one who couldn’t even look at me without trying to burn a hole through my skull. So, yeah, I thought maybe it was time to call it quits. Anyway, funny story about that.” The villain stepped closer, their playful tone still dancing in the air. “You know how they always say soulmates are a gift? So I just walked up to fate and demanded a refund.”
“Stop making jokes about this,” the hero snapped, frustration creeping into their voice. “You don’t just get rid of your soulmate’s mark. That’s… that’s insane.”
“Well, call me insane then.” The villain grinned wider.
The hero narrowed their eyes. “You don’t get it. This was supposed to mean something. We were supposed to mean something.”
The villain’s face flickered with something—something soft, almost sad—before they masked it with another flippant grin. “Oh, trust me, I get it. I’ve always gotten it. You were the one who never wanted this. You were the one who couldn’t even look at me without cringing. At least I gave it a shot. But you? You hated it. You hated the idea of being connected to someone like me.”
“Stop,” the hero said sharply, their frustration mounting. “I never hated you. It wasn’t like that. I just—”
“Couldn’t accept me, right? Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I get it now.” The villain waved a hand, interrupting them with a grin that was all sharp edges. “I’m a villain. You’re a hero. We’re so star-crossed. Shakespeare would’ve had a field day with us.”
The hero’s face softened for a moment, a flicker of guilt flashing across their features. “I never said that.”
“Oh please.” The villain scoffed, crossing their arms. “You couldn’t even stand being in the same room with me. Every time you looked at me, I saw the disgust in your eyes. I wasn’t your soulmate, I wasn’t even a person to you. All you saw was a villain, a person you had to hate because it made you feel good about yourself.”
The hero was quiet, the accusation hanging in the air. But the villain was already moving on, their playful tone back in full force. “Anyway, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice. I made a deal, and bam! Problem solved. No more mark. No more weird soulmate obligations. No more you looking at me like I’m about to tie you to a chair and spout an evil monologue about world domination.”
The hero clenched their fists, trying to hold onto their temper. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”
The villain’s eyes darkened, the bitterness creeping into their voice again. “Do you really think I didn’t try? Do you think I wanted to be free of you? But I couldn’t do it anymore. The pain of knowing I was nothing to you? The constant reminder of what I could never have?”
“You could’ve fought for it,” the hero argued, their voice shaking with frustration. “For us. I didn’t want this. But I would’ve—I would’ve tried if you had.
The villain’s face hardened, the smile fading. “No, you wouldn’t have. I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me. You couldn’t even say the word ‘soulmate’ without making a face like I’d just spat in your coffee.”
“You’re pushing me away,” the hero accused.
“Oh, please.” The villain threw their hands up, exasperated but still oddly charming in their annoyance. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m letting you go. There’s a difference. I figured it’d be kinder this way. You’d just end up tying me up and trying to reform me, like some kind of twisted, dysfunctional romance movie. Trust me, we’re better off without each other.”
There was a long silence, the weight of their words sinking in, but the villain was already backing away, their eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and something else, something more vulnerable that they didn’t want the hero to see.
The hero stood still, staring at the space where the villain had been, feeling a strange emptiness fill the space between them. The hero wanted to chase them, to argue, to fight for something—anything—but the words stuck in their throat.
“Well, that’s that,” the villain called over their shoulder. “You can go back to your clean, shiny world of righteousness and moral superiority. And I’ll just, you know, keep being the bad guy. No biggie.”
With that, the villain turned and walked away, their footsteps light, but there was a heaviness to their departure that the hero couldn’t ignore.
And as much as they hated to admit it, the hero felt like they’d just lost something they never really had.
