The Galaxy Is Endless

Kozume Kenma didn't think he believed in soulmates.

The idea that the universe could come up with one singular person who was perfect for him sounded so implausible; wasn't a person supposed to decide their own fate? There were too many variables at play for his liking. What if he didn't like his soulmate? And what if they didn't like him? He didn't want to dwell on that thought. All his life, he'd heard people talk about the wonders of having a soulmate, even witnessing it between his parents, but he couldn't quell the anxiety that perhaps it wouldn't turn out like such a fairytale for him.

That wasn't Kenma's only problem with the idea of soulmate marks, however. His true qualm with them lay in their sadistic nature. Kenma didn't want to know the last words that his soulmate would ever say to him, he didn't want to fathom the anxiety that would bring with it.

These were the thoughts playing on a loop in his head as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, waiting for his mark to appear. He glanced down at his phone again. 11:58 P.M. Two more minutes. He may have told Kuroo that he was going to just see it when he woke up in the morning, playing it off like it wasn't a big deal, but he hadn't been able to catch even a wink of sleep, his mind fixated on what the words would say.

Kenma tapped his fingers on the bathroom vanity. He should have read more articles on dealing with soulmate anxiety, he knew he couldn't possibly be the only person who'd ever felt like this.

Or maybe he should have just taken Kuroo's offer of a sleepover, so he could have the familiar safety of his best friend's presence at a time like this.

But no - Kenma was far too proud for that. When Kuroo's mark had appeared last year, he hadn't seemed stressed in the slightest. In fact, he was so nonplussed by his mark that Kenma still didn't know where it was, or what it said. Kenma could still recall the casual grins and laidback nature of his best friend the day before his 16th birthday last year, his only comment on the matter being 'what will be, will be.'

That was the mantra Kenma was trying (and failing) to mumble to himself as he watched the seconds tick down until midnight.

He looked at himself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. "What will be, will be."

He wanted to believe that.

A light tingle began on his right collarbone, sending a shiver down his spine. He instantly tried to look at it in the mirror, but it was far too faint to make out the words, let alone the handwriting. Kenma huffed, lightly brushing his hands over his collarbone, as though to speed up the process in an attempt to unbury the words etched under his skin.

He wasn't sure about the placement of his mark. While he could keep it hidden under most shirts, it would still be semi-visible. His only saving grace now could be if the words were something plain, something that people would never ask him about; lest they cause people to ask questions. He wasn't willing to deal with that kind of attention.

Those thoughts were all cast from his mind as soon as the words were legible on his skin.

Inscribed onto his collarbone were three simple words that only served to complicate his foreseeable future.

'I love you.'

Kenma felt his eyes begin to sting with the threat of tears as he ran his fingers over the words, memorising the way each letter curled.

It wasn't only the words that had that effect on him. It was the fact that he knew that handwriting, each loop and curl as familiar to him as though it were his own. He'd spent hours reading it, watching it being written, studying off of notes in this hand.