Philophobia

The 200th birthday

Okay, there are a couple points I need to make here first.

I am fully aware Mark cannot drink. He's going to do it anyhow, and no ones going to die.

Not from drinking at least.

There are probably parts of this story that don't make sense, and I will do my best to fix them. For now, please do your best to just try to ignore my mistakes...heh.

Alright that's it! (Read on lovelies)

- Lyn

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Time, at first, was slow and precious. It felt as though at any moment it would slip through his finger's, leaving him to crumble in its wake. 

These days, time was simply an existence. It did not affect Mark, and he did his best to try to leave it alone in turn. They had an understanding. 

Because of all the time though, he found he knew so much; he'd seen war, plague, death, birth, and everything in between. Lived a thousand lives, been a million different people. There are some things he couldn't understand though- things that refused to be answered. 

Why him, for example. 

Sitting in the bar, he downed drink after drink, thanking his high alcohol tolerance once again for allowing him to drown his thoughts. As the bartender came over he eyed Mark warily, probably wondering how the hell someone could drink this much. (I am aware Mark has no alcohol tolerance, this is just me taking a fictional liberty) Mark pretended not to notice his stares, and continued chugging. 

People were dancing all around, and a couple of ladies were watching him from the other end of the bar. They seemed to be discussing among themselves about whether or not they should go and talk to the man. Usually Mark wouldn't mind the attention, but he was tired tonight. He didn't want to deal with anyone. 

Probably because tonight was June 28th. His birthday. 

People who didn't understand him may have asked why he wasn't celebrating, or at least why he was so depressed. It was a complicated situation though, and since he had been around long enough in a universe that seemed to love to torture him- birthdays had become a bit of a reminder of sorts. 

One that in his worst moments made him wish he had never been born. 

Getting up from the bar and leaving his empty mug, Mark stepped out in to the mix of sweaty people all dancing to the thumping music. 

Not here to dance, he weaved past them, doing his best to avoid eye contact. He saw the exit, but not before spotting two guys who were showing the first signs of age. They were in their twenty's somewhere, and Mark had longed to be that age enough he knew what it looked like. Stopping for a moment to stare at them, he felt his spirit crush a little further. Every time he saw soulmates together he couldn't help but...

Steeling himself and turning away, he marched past all the other people towards the door. Walking out in to the cool air, Mark made his way over to the street and was relieved to be out of there. Watching his cool breath spew out in the air, he hailed a taxi and got in. Rubbing his hands together for warmth, Mark found himself lost in thought once again. He considered the world he lived in, and how in this world, everyone had something called a soulmate. They were a person's perfect other half, and whatever they need them to be; be that a best friend or lover. No one knows when they originated, but most suspected they were created as a way for humans to be with who they were supposed to, and to not die unhappily. A built in, foolproof companionship system. 

The part of the system that made it work so well is that at age 18, people stopped aging until they found their soulmate. Then when they met their soulmate they would age along with them. 

Things almost never went wrong. People always found their other half- usually no longer than three years after they stopped aging. They were drawn to each other in ways science couldn't explain, and would just end up running in to each other. If your soulmate died before you met them? That's was fine too, because soulmates are reincarnated in other body's; different people with the same souls. What was even better was that while you were waiting for the reincarnation, you stopped aging again. Whoopee. 

Everything was perfect. Except for in his case. 

Mark was an anomaly that no one could understand, and the government, after noticing a person who was alive a lot longer than they should have been, didn't how to react to him. The higher ups first noticed him around half a century ago, and when he was brought in to explain himself they were astonished at what they heard. 

Mark was 200 years old. He had been born in the early 18th century, and grew up in the large Fischbach estate in England that had grown filthy rich off of farming and agriculture. Like everyone else, he had stopped aging at 18. Like everyone else, he had gone out and explored, filled with the wonder of the world, and the promise of a soulmate. Unlike everyone else, Mark had watched as his friends found their partners in under a year, grew old, and died. He watched as his siblings went through life learning and changing while he stayed the same. He stood still as the world morphed and spun around him. 

So, as society changed, Mark was forced to adapt. He took on new names, learned all he could as discovery's continued to be made. Went from place to place searching for his other half, all while trying to make his way in a world that never stopped changing. He stole, begged, and went through job after job. He fought in wars, and watched them from the sidelines. Time moved forward. 

Mark, did not. 

Though he searched and though he looked, he never seemed to find his soulmate. Or anyone else who was experiencing the same thing he was.  

Eventually he stopped searching, refused to care. He made his mind up that if he ever did meet his soulmate, he would kill them. As many times as needed. Dark as it seemed, Mark didn't mind the idea of living forever. And his 'soulmate' deserved to pay for everything they had put him through. 

Emerging from his thoughts, Mark found that there were tears streaming down his face, portraying both his anger and sadness. Wiping them off, he sighed at how soft hearted he was after everything he'd been through. The taxi driver was staring at him, seemingly debating on asking him if he was okay. Mark gave the man a small smile, then spoke.

Explaining to the driver the directions he needed, Mark focused on the view out the window as he began the trip home. 

...

'Home' Might have been a bit of a loose term.  Mark constantly moved from place to place with nothing but his possessions and himself. He was currently working as a video game designer based in New York. 

He made games that sold a lot of copies, and the job payed well. It had helped him to live in comfort for the past few years, and had made that time some of the most satisfying in his life. 

The only issue with the occupation he had was that it drew public attention, meaning people would eventually notice he wasn't growing older. It would be a really long time until that became an issue though. For now everyone would just assume he hadn't found his soulmate yet. 

As was dropped off in front of the complex, Mark hopped out of car and jogged to the entrance of the apartment building. After getting to his room he spent a few minutes playing with his one of his few friends, a dog named Chica, and then almost immediately collapsed on his bed. 

He was asleep within minutes.

HEY!
Real quick, it's me, the author. If you are liking this story I'd love if you could take a quick break and go give my short story for the perfect date prompt a little attention. It would mean the world. Thanks! Continue on~