The marks started to appear on people's skin at the turn of the century. Small in size. No bigger than a quarter. They were black. Like tattoos. But they weren't tattoos. People didn't get them willingly. The marks just showed up unannounced.

There were many discussions. What were they? What did they mean? Why did they appear? Opinions were of abundance. The word ‘soulmate' didn't arise until after World War I.

By the 70s, the marks gained traction. People searched for the person who was deemed their soulmate by the universe. Sometimes it worked out. Sometimes it didn't. Sometimes people spent their whole life searching. Some got their mark covered by a tattoo making it harder to decipher. Others wore a covering depending on where the mark appeared.

Even with the marks having been around for generations, some people still didn't believe the soulmate explanation. A stupid silly mark telling them who they should be with?

That was Lance Bass. He hated the mark on his wrist. He wore a special leather band around his wrist. Had for the longest time. Wished his mark was on a part of his body where it would be hidden by the clothes he wore. Like his mother and father. Not even a watch would cover the offending mark. The leather band was a permanent fixture. The only time the band was off was in the shower.

Lance didn't need some mark to tell him who he should be with. He already had enough of that from the Church congregation. His community. Everyone. His matching mark - he knew - was going to be a female and he'd be expected to accept it. Get married and have babies. The American life.

One problem.

Lance was gay.

Had been since the tender age of six.

These marks were just another voice telling him he was wrong for feeling the way he did.

Lance took his pen and slid it beneath the leather strap itching at the sensitive skin on his inner wrist. Itchiness and a burning sensation were the norm. According to mandatory soulmate classes in school, they meant he had crossed paths with his soulmate.

What a joke.

He crossed paths with thousands of people every day. That's what happened when you were one-fifth of the top boyband. Sold out tour in a different city every night. Venues packed with thousands upon thousands of screaming girls.

Another joke the universe played on him. Make him gay and stick him in a boyband. All the girls he could ever want and he didn't want any of them.

Nope. He knew who he wanted. Knew he could never have him.

"You're gonna scratch it raw if you don't stop."

Lance looked up at the voice. Joey Fatone walked out from the back of the bus after showering. They had finished a show in Cleveland. Next stop: Philadelphia.

"Maybe it will fall off." Lance muttered but he withdrew the pen and tossed it down on his notebook open on the table in front of him.

"Know who it is?" Joey slid into the seat across from him with a soda and half-eaten bag of chips.

"I don't care."

"Come on man. Of course you do."

"No I don't." Lance stared at Joey. Joey let everyone see his mark on his bicep. He didn't care. Of course Joey had already found his soulmate. A sweet girl named Kelly. His high school sweetheart no less.

Lance was happy for his best friend. Happy he found his ‘one'. He loved Kelly. They were perfect for each other. But every happy ending had a not so happy ending. He knew that. They all did.

Chris Kirkpatrick was just as disgruntled when it came to marks. While he believed to an extent they were soulmate marks, he still held that you didn't have to be with your soulmate to be happy. Chris had dated Danielle for years. Before *NSYNC. They didn't share the same mark. No one knew. They were happy. In love.

Then Danielle met the one who shared her mark. Chris had been devastated by Danielle's leaving. So much so he had his mark covered up. Even with the huge design over the left side of his chest, Lance could still make out the mark when Chris had his shirt off.

A mark was never truly covered up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if years down the road there's not a data base full of marks for people to search through."

"Cause that doesn't scream predator." Lance mumbled.

"Why don't you just show me your mark? Maybe I know who she is?" Joey had been trying to see Lance's mark for years. To his knowledge, no one in the group had seen it. He flaunted his. He didn't care. It is what it is. Chris hadn't kept his hidden. He hadn't cared either. Until he did. Justin didn't flaunt his but he didn't hide it. Mostly he was embarrassed because it was on the small of his back. Like a tramp stamp. He endured endless teasing.

JC kept his hidden. Joey had seen it once during the Mickey Mouse Club years. Visible marks were hidden on TV shows. There were plenty of rumors of fans attacking actors and actresses to see their marks.

‘Dysphoria.' JC had told them at one point early on when they had gotten in to a discussion about marks.

Dysphoria meant an imbalance within the match. The marks were wrong. It happened.

JC had never gone into a deeper explanation. No one ever pushed. Least of all Lance. If anyone knew about dysphoria, it was Lance. His match would be the same. Because he wasn't interested in a female. If he ever found his match, he would tell them that. No thanks. He felt a little sadness and guilt. Holding someone's happiness in his hands. That's how he felt. He would never love them. Not like a soulmate should.

Not like he would love JC if given the chance.