painting the galaxy was harder than we thought.

11:57

Tendō Satori believed he didn't deserve a soulmate.

His parents had already convinced him of that enough, and still, sitting in front of his phone camera at 11:57 PM, there he was. His hands shook with excitement, no, with fear. What if his soulmate believed he was a monster as well? Or worse, what if his soulmate didn't want to be his soulmate? There were all too many different outcomes that could come forth with just a few written words, words that, if said unknowingly, would lose their meaning, as it meant they had fulfilled their true purpose, whatever it may be.

Satori fumbled with the hem of his shirt, a hand-me-down, from his older sister who'd left for college a few years ago, when he was only 9. Now, Satori was 12, well, about to turn 13. A few of his classmates in junior high had already received their soulmate marks, flaunting them on their wrists, the back of their neck, even in between their fingers. They were simple, a cluster of "I'll miss you"'s and "Goodbye"'s. Satori sighed, if his mark was anything out of the ordinary, he'd probably be targeted more.

Realizing it was now thirty seconds until 12 AM, Satori pressed his back to the seat, closing his eyes. He drew in a deep breath, his nose scrunched at the slight rotting smell of his room. The wood of his doorframe was exposed, the paint of which had been clawed off when Satori desperately tried to escape that of which was withholding him. His parents, tired of his antics and aloof attitude, would lock him in his room, put bars on his windows, and only open the door when he needed to use the restroom or eat.

Squinting at himself through the reflection in his phone screen, Satori shivered. A sensation, similar to a pen writing on bare skin, began at the base of his spine, Satori felt it spread slightly along his lower back.

A hoarse laugh escaped from the back of his throat, the sensation tickled, and he pondered whether or not he should even look at the writing. Weighing the options, Satori turned around, facing his back to the phone. He lifted up the back of his shirt, and craned his head to make out what it said in the reflection of his phone.

'You said we'd paint the galaxy together.'

He read it in his head, the writing was neat, small along the dip of his lower back, and it contrasted greatly with his pale skin. Satori furrowed his eyebrows and let his shirt drop down to cover his back.

What the hell does that even mean?

He picked at the skin on his lip before turning off his phone and laying back down on his bed. What Satori had called a bed was really a mess of used towels and pillows he'd found in the dumpster behind his local Goodwill.

Satori placed his arm over his eyes, which were drooping from the amount of time he'd spent up. If he made any more noise he was sure his parents would scold him in the morning. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed one of his hands underneath his pillow, and let his body relax.

___

The next morning, Satori was woken up not by the soft chime of his alarm, instead by the loud banging and yelling he'd grown accustomed to after having dealt with it all his life. He huffed and pushed himself up off the floor, checking his phone.

8:37 AM

Shit.

Satori rushed to change his clothes, trying his best to ignore the shrieking of his mother as his dad repeatedly hit the door to his room.

"I'm on my way out! Wait a sec! Jeez." He breathed as he stuck his foot through the leg of a pair of jeans. He wiggled his toes, sliding them out through the bottom.