"Excuse me, can I get the curried Udon, please?"

Louis traced his fingers along his forearm, matching the cursive font in a practised path. It had been six years since the words had first appeared on his skin. Six years since he'd woken up on his birthday full of excitement, only to wake up with something very… average.

His mother had the words I just wanted to tell you that your eyes are brighter than stars, reaching up her spine. That was lyrical; that was what you're supposed to get. His best friend had Will you be my player two? sketched out between her freckles, and Louis would have killed someone for a chance at words like that. He would have settled for anything, literally anything other than an order for greasy food that he heard day in, day out.

Still, that didn't stop him from looking up hopefully every time he heard it, even if it wasn't exactly the same wording- he had a Japanese noodle delicacy on his arm, this couldn't be an exact science. He carefully formulated responses about the precise colour of the customer's eyelashes, but every time he was met with the same, blank, look, because they weren't walking around carrying his words. His heart had sank into his shoes so many times it was a wonder it was still beating.

But still, every night he wished on as many stars were in the sky, and every morning he put on his apron, and hoped.

Today's going to be the day, he thought, wiping down the countertop and watching the rain lash against the window as he bounced on this balls of his feet. Every morning, he forgot the disappointments of the day before. He didn't hate his job, but this feeling before his shifts… it was the kind of dizzy elation that would make cleaning sewers seem like fun.

The door swung open, rain dripping from the hem of the customer's coat. He looked them up and down, heart beginning to beat rapidly in his chest. Unpredictable, yes, but viable. The stranger pushed back her hood with perfect tapered fingers, her blonde curls falling over her shoulders. She was everything that Louis wasn't interested in, high class and female where he liked scruffy indie boys, but she was pretty enough, and had the brightness of intelligence in her eyes.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice high and clear. "Can I get the curried Udon, please?"

Louis's breath caught in his throat. Okay. This could be it. He nodded, wordlessly, trying to give himself room to think. He tried to focus on her nails as they tapped on the counter, but the rhythm kept slipping away.

Instead of composing a sonnet on the spot, he decided to go obvious. "That's a lovely coat you're wearing?" It turned out more of a question than a statement, and he quickly laid the noodles on the table, blushing.

She glanced down at her clothes. "Uh, thanks. How much do I owe you?"

Louis's heart faltered, but didn't fall yet. "Is that… is that all?" The woman glanced at an expensive looking watch, already visibly bored.

"Um, yes. I have a train to catch." Now that Louis listened, her voice had a mean, impatient edge to it, and the curl of her lips was a little too severe. That didn't stop his shoulders from slumping as he spoke in a monotone, handing over change and watching her retreating back go out and face the rain.

Oh.

He looked down at the marbled counter, which was blurry, though he couldn't think why. He shook himself. This always happened. There were always false alarms. He got overexcited at the thought of meeting his soul mate, and jumped upon the first person who wanted anything at all from the takeaway. He had to get himself under control, and he'd be fine.

Slowly but surely, his heart crawled back up from his shoes.

A couple of hours later, Louis looked up to see Danny Zuko. Well, it probably wasn't the real Danny, but close enough. He was leaning on the counter, leather jacket wet from the rain, hair pushed up into an over-styled quiff and a piece of bubblegum in his mouth.

"Hey, man, can I get the curried Udon?"

Louis choked in surprise. This guy was gorgeous- arrogant sounding and cocky, maybe, but capital H-O-T. His words weren't exactly what the tattoo said but, close enough, right? Definitely close enough. "Ah, sure, mister, um, dude, person." When faced with an Arctic Monkeys reject, he apparently turned into a flushing, tongue tied adolescent. Cute, real cute. He burned with embarrassment until he heard a spluttering noise behind him.

Louis turned on his heel so fast he nearly fell over. Oh God. This is it. Oh my God. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" He took a deep breath. "Is that your tattoo, as well?" He was rarely this brave, but he was certain this time, absolutely certain.

The guy cleared his throat. "No, ah, sorry dude. I'm fine. Swallowed my gum, is all."

"What?" Louis stared ahead, uncomprehending. "But you seemed… surprised…"

"Well, apologies for not planning on needing a Heimlich in advance?" He gave Louis a strange look, but not an unfamiliar one. "I was planning on eating those today, dude." He nodded at the noodles lying semi-wrapped on the counter. The man scratched his neck, and Louis saw the words Hello, sexy, scrawled across his forearm.

Louis bit his lip, possibly even more mortified than before. "Oh, okay, I'm sorry, I just- okay." He slid them across the counter, taking the money with a hollow feeling in his chest.

He'd been sure, so sure this time. The rain was still falling, and Louis glared out and hated it all. Hated how everyone else had already found their soul mates, the tattoos, the restaurant, himself. Hated this whole thing. That's it. No more caring. No more of this. He balled his hands into fists, kicking the shop counter with malice.

Then the door swung open, hitting the bell with a sharp ding.

It took a moment for Louis to notice him, but when he did, it was near impossible to look away. If Danny Zuko had been hot, this guy turned it up to eleven, but he walked with shyness, with caution, all muted grey jeans and slumped shoulders and hair that was the most perfect shade of brown shadowing his eyes. The boy gave a tiny smile, the gentle curl of entirely kissable pink lips melting Louis's heart.

Not that Louis cared. Or was staring. Or whatever.

The boy put both hands on the edge of the counter, looking nervously through his fringe with eyes that were almost golden. "Excuse me, can I get the curried Udon, please?"

Louis stopped. Just stopped. No, no, this can't happen. His fingers started to shake, his breath coming rapidly. This couldn't, no, wouldn't happen. He refused to let the universe build him up for this, not this time. He was sick of it, sick of seeing boys like this one, perfect and beautiful and not meant for him. Sick of being tired and tired of being a lone, and so very very done with all of this.

His eyes were wide, manic, as he looked at the shy boy. "You know what? Fuck the noodles. You can shove the noodles up your fucking arse, for all I care." He spat the words out, breathing heavily. "I don't want to do this anymore, I hate it, I- what?" Louis didn't mean to snap at the stranger, but those golden eyes were wide with shock, his mouth a comical 'o' shape.

"Did you just say… what I think you said?" The boy whispered, and Louis looked confused. "It's you. Oh my God. You said it. I've found you." The stranger laughed, covering his mouth with both hands. "I've found you."

"What do you mean you-" he broke off as it dawned on him. "Oh. Oh, shit, you don't mean…"

The boy nodded, and pulled down the neck of his shirt. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." His tattoo ran across his collarbones in the same curling font as Louis's. You know what? Fuck the noodles. The boy laughed harder as Louis revealed his own tattoo. "I'm Quinn," he smiled that perfect smile again. "And I'm so happy to finally meet you."

"Louis," he offered a hand. "Likewise. Also, I'd like to apologise for making you walk around with a rant about noodles."

"It's- it's okay. Louis. Wow." God, his name sounded great in that voice. The stranger- Quinn, my soul mate Quinn- blushed, and shuffled his feet. "Hey. Um. Is it rude if I say I really don't want the noodles? Would you," he took a breath, steadying himself. "Would you like to go get a coffee, with me, instead? And then, maybe-"

"We could spend the rest of our lives together?" Louis smiled, and it felt more genuine than it had been in a long time. "Mine's a cappuccino." Quinn looked delighted, and Louis was sure he looked the same.

He realised that Quinn hadn't let go of his hand, and squeezed it, quietly sure that he'd never want to let go, not for the rest of his beautiful, sorry days. And the best thing was, he wouldn't have to.

Louis smiled and saw that, at last, the rain had stopped.