- 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗦: ᴋ. ᴏᴜᴍᴀ - sᴏᴜʟᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀᴜ

[̲̅1 . 1

    
The faded song that radiated off of your phone sounded off, each ring going through one ear and out.

     The familiar singing from LiSA—the singer of Gurenge—happily flew through your eardrums; which reminded you that today was your second year at Hopes Peak High school. The soft, orange rays of light from your bedroom curtains shined through, the beautiful rays of sunlight resting on your bedsheets. It was still fairly early, a rough 8:00 A.M. glowing on your phone from your bedside table, each of your drawers slightly opened with random items sprawled out inside.

     For as long as you could remember, ever since your soulmate developed—which was when you were six—your soulmate had murdered you in every dream. No matter what you attempted, or how hard you tried to survive, he had found a way to kill you—whether it be painfully slow, or so quick and hasty that you couldn't even remember the cause of death.

     Never once have you attempted to chat with him, meaning you haven't even gotten a glimpse of his face. Most of the time, this boy was crafty—always finding a way to end the story with a death that doesn't allow his face to be shown, not even for a second.

     Except for times like the last dream.

     At times, you'd be able to get a glimpse of his face. Though even if you were to get the glimpse, the most it'll be, is well—a glimpse. The most you'd seen was his evil, sinister smile, or a small hint of a scarf. Who even wears scarves these days? On a sunny day, at that! And who wore a scarf to sleep? That shit got hot fast.

     None of these were even able to be called "dreams". Each night was filled with more nightmares, easily comparable to dreamless sleep—even though it wasn't the actual definition of the term.

     There was no way to find out who your soulmate is through your dreams. The only thing you could share were details about both of your personalities, and if you've even attempted to share your name, the dream world would find a way to censor it out.

     No, an annoying 'bleep' wouldn't censor it out. The world found a way to cancel it out by something random, usually something painful—according to those who have experienced it. Stories of random trucks driving into the duo of soulmates happily chatting in their dreams and dying had been told before, along with less gore-filled ways like a goose coming and honking really loud over their voices every time they attempted to share names.

     It was told that when you share at least your first names for the first time in person, a sudden bullet will be shot to your heart—not a bad one, but a bullet full of an unknown feeling. No, not a cliché butterfly-stomach-thing, more of a feeling of just knowing this person is your soulmate. Nothing more than a first name needed to be exchanged, and both of you didn't have to share it. If only one shared it, only—even though this was obvious—one of you would get the feeling of knowing your soulmate.

     There was a 100% guarantee you'd meet your soulmate in your lifetime, and not a single case had ever happened of someone not—besides the soulmate-less people, of course. So, even if you still weren't ready to, you had to at least attempt to be ready to meet the psychopath of your dreams eventually.

     Dreams only have five ways of being ended, or not started:

     1. Both of you sharing a romantic action.
     2. One of you being woken up.
     3. One—or both—of you dying in real life.
     4. One of you not sleeping at the same time they are, making the dream not occur in the first place.
     5. One of you dies in the dream.

     The fifth opinion made a shiver run down your spine. A truly horrible thought, especially knowing that you go through it so often. Sure, you could just sleep during completely different times, but it would get you behind on school, work, and everyone will always be asleep while you're awake. You decided you'd rather just deal with the dreams instead of risking your future and social life.