your name on my wrist (Septiplier)

Every day, Mark would look at his wrist, finding a blank space.
Everyone else had their soulmate's name there, while he had none.
He would cover it up with smiles and loudness in his small recording space, but sometimes, the lonelyness would catch up on him.

And then there's fucking Jack.

(Originally posted on AO3 in Autumn 2015)