watssuptessa
They say the gods tie an invisible red string of fate around the pinky fingers of those destined to belong to one another. The thread can stretch, it can tangle, and it can fray under the heavy weight of a cruel world-but it can never, ever break.
But what happens when the universe tears you apart before your time?
When death finally severed my fragile breath, it could not cut the crimson cord bound to my soul. Instead, as I slipped into the cold, silent dark, the thread began to stretch. It stretched past the boundary of the grave, through the passage of years, and anchored itself firmly to the next life I was forced to begin.
On my end of the string, I was reborn. I was given a fresh breath of life, returning to this world with the exact same body, the exact same face, and the exact same eyes he used to look at with so much devotion. And on my shoulder, etched permanently into my skin like a sacred seal of our promise, was a birthmark shaped like the letter "M."
On his end of the string, time never stopped. Mikey remained in the same world, carrying the crushing agony of my absence, his heart still beating against the weight of a promise we made under the stars.
While I grow up all over again, the red string is tightening. It hums with the memory of his touch, pulling me relentlessly through the crowded streets of Tokyo to find him. I am the exact same girl he once held, and my soul still bleeds the same love. I will run back to him, letting him look into the eyes he knows so well and tracing the letter on my shoulder, because the red thread does not care about death. It only cares about bringing me back to the arms where I belong.