The four of them had been friends for as long as they could remember. It was only natural that their soul marks had shown up in pairs. They'd been inseparable, done everything together: double dates every weekend, movie nights, gaming marathons. They'd had big plans for a joint wedding. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Tim remembered little of the accident. A screeching noise, a scream next to him, the feeling of something cold pressing against his chest. All he knew for certain was that he'd lost two people he loved that day. The grief had been unbearable; the next few days a blur. He'd barely had time to process the loss when Bernard's name on his arm faded, replaced with another—the other survivor's, whose arm now also bore Tim's name.

They'd tried to ignore it. Pretend it wasn't there. They were friends, they were grieving, this wasn't the time. But the damn marks burned and tingled and clawed at their souls, wanting to tear out the old love from their hearts and forcibly replace it with something neither of them were ready for.

"This is wrong," Tim choked out between sobs. He didn't know what to feel anymore. "This is all wrong."