With The Marks On Your Skin // boyxboy

Chapter 1: It's Normal

[I'm super excited about this! Enjoy!]

Another day in this altered society, where every person's goal is to find your one and only, soulmate.

How do I spend it?

Buying scar ointment and bandages. You know, the usual.

In this world, your soulmate can put anything on their skin, and it'll show up on yourself. But here's the thing, everybody's different. The only thing we all have in common is the ability to write with ink on our skin, which also appears on the skin of our soulmates.

And there's some people who have additions to that. Some people can put on makeup, and it'll appear on the other person too. Like my buddy Zach. His soulmate went through an emo phase in the 8th grade.

I'll have you know, seeing a very jock-y, athletic guy walk into class with dark eyeliner and black painted nails with occasional black lipstick and eyeshadow was very entertaining. He told me that every time he tried to wipe it off, he would get angry notes across his arm from his soulmate. Zach always complained about it, but I knew he secretly didn't care. I saw him attempt to hide his small smiles as he drew hearts all over his arm. His soulmate, who we now know as Claire, now sticks to clean, black-winged eyeliner, neutral eyeshadow, and sparkly pink lipgloss on Friday's.

Other people can also put pressure on their skin to feel on the other person, or some people don't get any special things. Those things are pretty rare though. As for me, I was blessed to be born with sharing wounds with my soulmate. And oh yes, it comes with a side of pain, on the house.

Either my soulmate doesn't know how to take care of themselves, or bad things happen to them, because throughout my entire life, I've had to share bruises, cuts, gashes, scars, and pain with my soulmate. There were times where I'd have to stay home from school because it hurt too much.

Lately, I've been getting cuts on my wrists. My soulmate has no chill man. I'll be sitting around in my room, minding my own business, and then bang my arms look like a murder scene.

I don't really know what to do. I've never dealt with self harm before. Even though this is something that's always been with me, I feel so far away from my soulmate. I have never tried to write anything to my soulmate. I'm too afraid. First of all,
I don't even know what to say, Second of all, it's not like they've tried to be in contact with me either.

I try to help with making the cuts better, but my soulmate obviously doesn't give a flying fuck if I bandage it up myself or put ointment on it. They seem to be picking at them or just cutting over them in general.

And I've had just about enough.

"Hey Dom, how are your wrists?" Zach leans over to my desk and looks down at my (finally) bandaged arms. We were sitting in Algebra right now, not that I give a shit or anything.

"They hurt like hell. I couldn't sleep all night because they kept reopening from the cuts being picked at." I grumbled. My face was buried in my black sweatshirt as I rested my arms on the desk. Having a soulmate could be a real handful sometimes.

"It's like they don't even acknowledge that I'm trying to heal us. I'm sick and tired of this constant pain!" I took a deep breath and pulled out a blue pen from my pocket, almost dropping it in the process. Zach was a little taken back, not expecting me to snap.

I clicked the pen, and started writing a little something-something on my hand for my soulmate.

/Hey could you maybe stop slitting your wrists? It fucking hurts, asshole!/

"I don't know if that was a good idea. Was I too insensitive?" I looked at the fresh ink that sat on my skin. Was this how I wanted to start things off?