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Written on your skin

Summary:

Keith is your typical troubled kid who's just trying to sort his life out. Things aren't perfect, but he's attending night school to get enough credits for university, he loves hanging out with Shiro and Matt on the weekends, and he's prepped to be the youngest member of his martial arts club to get his second Dan black belt. Things are looking up for Keith!

That is until strange notes start to appear on his arm.

They don't come off. At least, not when Keith tries to remove them. And they're written in handwriting that Keith knows isn't his.

So where are they coming from?

Notes:

I love soul mate aus. I love texting fics.

Behold the ultimate mash up.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

I love soul mate aus. I love texting pics.

Behold the ultimate mash up!

Chapter Text

Keith feels his eyes blink awake as he’s suddenly aware of how uncomfortably warm it is in his bedroom and how the skin of his thighs stick together. He rolls over and groans. His knees pop. He reaches for his phone to check the time.

 

11:12 am

 

He sighs feeling disappointed in himself. He used to get up and run 10km before 7am, but his night classes are now taking their toll. He tosses his phone to the side and that’s when he sees it. Written in what looks like blue pen, in fine, scratchy, writing, three words are written across the back of his left hand.

 

Eggs

Milk

Rice

 

He squints at the words. Was I supposed to buy these? He thinks. They’re clearly a shopping list of some sort, a kind of reminder, but Keith has no memory of writing down the list. He also has no memory of needing any of these ingredients. He had always been a restless sleeper, perhaps he had written it in the middle of the night in a bout of sleepy inspiration?

 

Keith pays it no mind and decides to finally begin his day. He hops into the shower and relishes the feeling of shedding his layer of night sweat. He feels even better when he takes a handful of body wash and begins lathering up his body. This is when he notices the second peculiar thing about the note on his hand.

 

It doesn’t come off. Not only does it not come off, but it doesn’t fade or bleed or even smudge. The note looks exactly like a plain blue ballpoint pen, but it behaves like its tattooed onto Keith’s skin.

 

Keith rubs at the note more aggressively. His nails scratch at his skin, hoping it’ll lift up, when he pauses. His eyes narrow on the note as realization hits.

“I’m fucking lactose intolerant.” He scoffs.

 

The note haunts Keith for the rest of the day. He wishes he could let it go, but upon further investigation things just start to get odder.

 

He has no memory of writing the note. He’s lactose intolerant, so there would never be a need to buy milk, and now Keith is pretty sure that the handwriting isn’t even his. He’s sitting at the dining room table rewriting the words “eggs milk rice” over and over again, trying to compare them to the one on his hand. He supposes he could have possibly written this? Maybe if he was half asleep and his motor skills were off? But the g’s look dramatically different and the lowercase k is all wrong. He groans.

 

“Studying?” Shiro walks in and seems impressed at the image of his little brother surrounded by paper with what looks like notes on them.

“Shiro, do I sleep walk?” Keith blurts. Shiro blinks at the odd outburst. He pauses for a moment until he registers the question he has just been asked.

“Ah I mean…” He scratches the side of his cheek in thought. “Maybe? I dunno. You’ve always been a pretty light sleeper. Generally once you’re awake, you’re fully awake.”

Keith pouts and Shiro sees that this is not the answer he was looking for.

“But sleeping habits change all the time, so you never know. Like it’s common for people who maybe slept really heavy as kids to get more sensitive when they’re older.”

 

Keith nods, but the wrinkle between his brows does not go away.

 

He manages to pull his focus from his hand for the rest of the night. His night classes are tiring, but they work wonders in distracting him. Keith collapses in bed at the end of the night and doesn’t remember his hand until he’s in the shower again. He breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that it has faded. It still doesn’t smudge in the shower, but at least it looks like it will not be permanent.

 

The note is almost completely gone by evening. Only shreds of letters remain in faint blue. Keith lounges on the couch, judging Shiro as he plays his video game and his character falls off another ledge.

“You can jump on your hat remember.”

“Fuck, no, I always forget that.”

“Or you know, just get better at hitting x. That’s literally all this is.” Keith smirks. Shiro elbows him in the ribs. Keith pushes him back.

 

“Next time you die I…” But Keith can’t finish his thought. Because there, written on his hand in fresh ink, on top of the last note that has not quite completely gone away, are new words.

 

Piano recital 6:30

 

“Next time I what?” Shiro asks. Keith can barely hear over the pulse in his ears.

“I gotta pee.” He slurs out. His footsteps betray his panic in how quickly they rush across the floor. Shiro stares after him with concern.

 

Keith crashes into the bathroom with labored breathing. He stares at the note. His head is full of screaming questions.

I’ve been awake this whole time, how did this happen? I didn’t write this… did I?! No! I would remember! Also I DON’T KNOW ANYONE WHO PLAYS THE PIANO!

 

He shoves his hand underneath the tap and begins to scrub. Hard. He scrubs until his skin is raw and dry, but the blue words remain as fresh as ever. He stares at the note in defeat, his gut growing cold.

 

Keith is scared.

 

Over the next few weeks more notes appear. All of them are in that same scratchy writing. All of them impossible to remove, but seem to fade of their own accord. Most appear on his hand, but several appear on his forearm and palm. Sometimes it looks like ink stains his fingers.

 

Remember permission slip

Cake pan 4 Hunk

Pick up Lisa

Get Tony’s cake

Uniform money

 

Each note references an event or even a person that Keith does not know. He doesn’t have a uniform, and definitely no permission slips since he was expelled. Who the hell is Lisa? These words start to make Keith less afraid, but they being to feel otherworldly. Like something is trying to reach out to him. He sees glimpses into a life that is not his.

 

Children’s drawings appear on his arm. Or at least he hopes it was drawn by a child. The classic square house with a triangle roof. Several crude looking human figures. A scribble that could be a dog. These make Keith the most nervous and curious.

 

Keith rolls out of bed one morning and holds his arm above his eyes to survey what damage may have been done during the night. It’s become a habit by now. Wake up, look at arm, stare in frustration at any new notes, contemplate their meaning, wonder if he’s crazy, acceptance.

 

This morning Keith gasps. His eyes roam over his arm to see that it is completely covered. Any bare skin that was left has now been marked with fresh notes and doodles, while old notes on his hand and wrist are just beginning to fade. His entire arm is a smattering of marker and pen, and some drawings have even made their way over to his other arm. Some are just swirls, while others are flowers or what looks to be a coding language. There’s a particularly large cupcake on his bicep with the words “Hunky cakes” written underneath it.

 

Keith is horrified. He dresses in a long sleeved shirt even though it’s a particularly warm spring morning. Keith curses global warming as he tries to make himself a chilly breakfast smoothie. He goes about his day, running to the grocery store and working on some readings for his classes, whilst trying to keep his core temperature from climbing dangerously high. He wears shorts and ties his hair up, before he starfishes on the ground.

 

When Shiro comes home from a long day of running tutorials he crashes on the couch next to Keith.

“Long day?”

“They’re so stupid.” Shiro whines. It’s one of his more common phrases these days. It’s not unusual for him to burst into Keith’s room late at night, brandishing some student’s essay that he’s marking, and start screeching “What the fuck?! What the fuck?! They’re so stupid! I told them so many times…. How do they…?! How do they not swallow their tongues in their sleep?!”.

 

“Sorry,” Keith chuckles at his brother slumped next to him. “At least you don’t have any first years next semester.”

“I guess. But then I get angry at my students because they should know better.

Shiro picks himself up by leaning on Keith, but visibly grimaces when he makes contact.

 

“Ugh, bro you’re so hot.” He wipes his hand on his pants. Now that he’s close to Keith he can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. It’s making him uncomfortable, so he can’t imagine how Keith feels.

 

“Jesus, why are you wearing this shirt? You should get changed.”

“I’m fine.” Keith shrugs. Shiro had felt that Keith’s shirt was damp with sweat. Hardly fine.

“At least push up your sleeves…” Shiro touches the cuffs of Keith’s sleeve, but Keith’s hand snaps down on top of his. He snatches his arm away.

“I said I’m fine.” He snaps.

 

Shiro’s eyebrows rise in concern. Keith knows he’s fucked up now.

“Roll up your sleeves.” Shiro says. It’s not a request anymore.

“I don’t want to. I’m not hot.”

“Yes you are. Now roll up your sleeves and show me your arms.” Shiro shifts his body in a way that shows his brother that he is prepared to use force. He plants both feet firmly on the ground.

 

Keith, troubled younger brother with a history of discipline and anxiety problems understands Shiro’s concern. He knows what Shiro is thinking. Lord knows he displays the symptoms, but he can’t tell him the truth.

 

“I’m not hurting myself.” Keith replies weakly.

“Then show me.”

Keith’s mouth hardens into a scowl.

 

He holds up his hands to push back, but Shiro is too fast. His larger hand wraps easily around Keiths slender wrist, and even though Keith scratches at his hands and protests, he still feels his sleeve easily wrenched upwards. Shiro stills.

“What the…?” His eyes roam over the markings on Keith’s arms.

 

They’re confusing, but harmless. He tries to read the notes, but doesn’t seem to understand the references to people or events that have no place in Keith’s life.

“What is this?” His tone is gentle. He releases Keith’s arm with an apologetic look.

“I don’t know!” Keith snaps. The stress and fear that had been simmering underneath his surface for weeks bursts forth. He’s terrified, but there’s a weird sense of relief that someone else knows now. That maybe someone else might believe him.

 

“They just started appearing. Sometimes during the night, sometimes during the day. I can’t wash them off no matter what I do, but over time they do seem to fade.” Keith’s words are erratic.

“I don’t know who… who any of these people are!” He points at a note on his elbow. This one is in different handwriting that reads Katie was here.

Shiro pulls his arm close and inspects the notes closer. He also doesn’t recognize the names. His eyes ghost over one note that makes him gasp. It’s more faded but the words are unmistakable.

Get Dad’s dry-cleaning.

 

“Keith… you definitely didn’t write these.” He admits.

“Yes thank you, I know that. My handwriting isn’t even the same. Believe me I’ve tested it.” With his secret out, Keith tears off his shirt in a huff. The fresh air against his sweaty body immediately makes him feel better.

“No I mean… I think someone else is writing these…” Shiro goes on. Keith continues to scowl.

 

“I think this might be your soul link, Keith.”

Keith lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Fuck.” He slumps forward. “I was afraid of that.”

“What? No Keith this is great! This is exciting!” Shiro grabs the smaller boy’s shoulders and shakes him. Keith flops apathetically.

“Shiro, I just…”

“Have you written anything back?” Shiro beams. At least someone is thrilled.

“God no.” Keith scoffs. He pulls himself away from Shiro’s touch. Shiro sits with a shocked expression.

 

“What?! Why not?!”

“Shiro!” Keith shouts. “You don’t understand. Like, I’ve gotten children’s drawings on here before! What if he’s old and has kids already? What if he’s…” He deflates.

“What if he’s already married?”

Shiro smirks.

“What if it’s not even a he?

“Oh my god why would you even say that!?” Keith hisses and shoves his brother as he cackles into the couch cushions. Shiro lets him get in a couple of good hits. He deserves it.

 

 

Weeks pass and the notes on his arm continue to come in, but thankfully he is no longer covered. It’s back to the odd reminder on his hand, or a doodle on his wrist. Keith is thankful that he no longer has to hide them. For the first few days when Shiro would spy them he would get this know it all “You’re being unreasonable” look on his face, but now he has completely dropped it.

 

Life goes on. Keith spends his days at the gym and his nights at the community college down the road trying to build up credits. He chips away at homework and punching bags, his days passing in the quiet way they always had. Shiro teaches during the day, and when their paths cross, they play video games together or go window-shopping with Matt.

 

Matt crashes into their flat unannounced one night. He balances a box of a dozen donuts in one hand and a bag of ciders, soft drink and rum in the other. There’s a tube of pringles in the pocket of his jacket.

 

“I just handed in the first draft of my thesis and now I need to get FUUUUCKED up!” He announces.

 

Shiro and Keith stare from where they hover in the kitchen. Shiro is the first to move as he smirks. His hand reaches into the top drawer and he spins a bottle opener around on his finger.

“Right on, man.”

 

After the initial congratulations, the three fall into a familiar pattern. Matt pulls out his laptop and they crowd around the coffee table, fingers greasy with pizza, and hop from vine compilation to some niche video Matt has found.

“Look at this premium content.” Matt whispers as his fingers excitedly enter new search terms.

 

When they grow tired of what weirdness the internet has to offer, Shiro pulls out the videogames. They play mariokart (Matt yelling “dibs on waluigi”) but it’s around the time Shiro is playing Breath of the Wild with Matt helping him to solve a shrine puzzle, that Keith feels himself drifting off. He shouldn’t be surprised. Night school was really starting to wreak havoc with his sleep schedule. His head hits the armrest with a heavy thud and he doesn’t move for 10 minutes.

 

“Dude, hey…” Matt whispers. Shiro hums in acknowledgement.

“Is Keith asleep?”

Shiro looks over his shoulder. Keith’s breathing is heavy and regular. His chest rises and crashes in a steady rhythm. Shiro chuckles.

“Aw poor little guy. He hit the wall.”

Matt starts to giggle gleefully to himself. He shuffles over to his back and pulls out a black marker.

“Punishment, punishment…” He chants under his breath. He uncaps the marker and gets close to Keith.

“Aw no, dude, no.” Shiro weakly protests, but he’s still laughing when Matt tip toes in close.

“He knows the rules! First one to fall asleep…” His hand hovers over Keith’s forehead.

“No! Dude, dude! Not the face! I’m serious, don’t.” Shiro hisses. Matt pouts a bit but understands.

“Ok ok, I’ll put it somewhere he can hide it.” He sighs.

 

 

“Morning,” Matt blearily greets Shiro as he pads to the fridge. He pulls out a gallon of orange juice and downs it straight from the bottle.

“Matt,” Shiro scowls over his coffee.

“What?” Matt wipes away his orange juice moustache. “I’m boosting your immune system. You should thank me.” He smirks.

 

He starts to prepare his toast and he and Shiro fall into a comfortable silence. The room is quiet but for the quiet tinkle of Matt’s knife occasionally hitting his plate. There’s a light breeze through the window and no one has anywhere to be for several hours.

 

“WHAT THE…?!” The silence is broken. Both Matt and Shiro begin to laugh at Keith’s distant shout.

 

It takes three seconds for him to come screeching in, brandishing his forearm in front of him. Matt’s crudely drawn dick covers most of the skin there.

“WHO THE FUCK DREW THIS?!” Keith is livid. His face is red.

Matt’s face matches, but it’s because he’s trying to keep in his laughter. He weakly raises his hand. Keith’s eyes are blazing.

 

“MATT I WILL FUCKING-!”

“Hey, Keith, bud come on. You know the rules-“ Then Shiro’s eyes go wide. He claps a hand over his mouth and guilt rises in his throat.

“OH MY GOD I FORGOT!” He cries. “Keith, I’m so sorry! I let him-!”

“YOU FORGOT???!!” Keith’s voice pitches dangerously high.

“Just go wash it off! He may not have seen it yet!” Shiro tries to find some silver lining. Keith sprints towards the bathroom.

“IT’S NOON!” He cries behind him.

 

 

Lance is startled awake with the blaring of his alarm clock. 6:30 am was definitely starting to feel more like 4:00 am. It’s towards the later end of the school year and each morning is becoming harder as Lance is pushed to stay up later and later by assignments. Outside his window the sky is starting to light up into a pale lilac. Lance groans and rolls onto his side. He swings his legs over his bed and rubs his face. Even in the dim light he can make out something on his arm.

 

“Great.” Lance rolls his eyes at the sight of a giant penis drawn on his skin. Being the youngest in the family definitely had its drawbacks.

 

He makes his way to the bathroom where he intercepts his older brother and the most likely culprit. He’s showered and is moving to his room with a towel around his waist.

 

“Hey Tony, thanks for the gift.” Lance holds up his forearm. The older boy sniggers and shakes his head.

“Wasn’t me bro.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Lance rolls his eyes.

 

The shower is still humid and damp when he steps in, but luckily the water takes no time to warm up. Lance starts to move through his morning ministrations, but decides to include an extra body exfoliating step. He pours his wild argan oil gel body polish onto his fingers and begins to work it into his skin, paying special attention to the graffiti on his arm. He scowls when the ink doesn’t appear to lighten.

“You kidding me?” He sighs. Tony must have busted out some mega permanent ink for this one.

 

Needless to say, Lance decides to wear his long sleeved school uniform that day.

 

 

By the time Lance has made it to first period he’s completely forgotten about the giant dick on his forearm. It’s warm, and despite his school’s hefty fees, they don’t seem to spend them on decent air conditioning. He instinctively rolls up his sleeves before he takes down the notes on the board.

 

“What?” Hunk’s little chuckle vibrates in the silent classroom. “What happened there?”

Lance looks at his best friend in confusion until he traces his eye-line to his arm.

“Oh! Yeah, ha. Woke up with this. Tony must have gotten me in the night.”

“Classic Tones.” Hunk shakes his head. “But you didn’t even wash it?”

“I did!” Lance replies. He drops his head when he makes pointed eye contact with their teacher.

“I did.” He repeats in a whisper. “Ok, I used my $50 body polish on this thing and it didn’t even fade! It has ingredients from Kenya!” He hisses.

 

Hunk hums and begins to examine Lance’s arm.

“That’s weird. It should at least be faded.”

“I know.”

“What kind of pen did Tony use?”

“He said it wasn’t him.” Lance pouts. Hunk nods.

“I actually believe him. This doesn’t look like Tony’s work.”

Lance pauses to glance down at his arm. He really looks at the crude art this time.

 

“Huh,” He nods. “This does lack his signature ball hairs”

“Tony’s dicks are a craft all their own. This is an insult to his talent.”

Both boys laugh. Lance starts to unroll his sleeve to cover it up again as their teacher walks beside them. He’s undoubtedly heard them laughing and is checking to see whether any work is getting done.

 

“Show me at recess.” Hunk mumbles under his breath as he begins to work through the equations.

“Show you what?”

“That it doesn’t come off. Show me that it won’t.”

“Alright, alright.”

 

 

“Behold! The penis of permanency!” Lance holds his arm underneath the tap and begins to scrub furiously with the prison grade soap their school has been issued. He rinses it and, sure enough, his arm is still marked as clear as day.

“Whoa, dude that’s crazy,” Hunk stares in awe. He steps forward to rub his fingers over the skin. The ink doesn’t even smudge. His mouth widens into an uncharacteristic grin.

“You know what this calls for?”

Lance’s smile sparkles with delight.

 

“Super secret science break in.” They both whisper in unison.

 

They run out of the bathroom feeling excitement rush through their veins. They take a detour to the science labs, where thankfully, they run into the third member of their heist party. Hunk scoops Pidge up into his arms without breaking his stride.

“What?! What are you doing?!” She thrashes.

“Science heist.” Hunk waggles his eyebrows.

“Ooooh.” Pidge stills. “Carry on my noble steed.”

 

They arrive in front of the science labs and Pidge’s fingers twitch with antcipation. She hammers in the pass key that she managed to break years ago and the three students slip inside. Lance waits at one of the benches. Hunk and Pidge run into the stock rooms, already shouting out what solutions and equipment they’ll need to get.

 

Hunk comes back with nail polish remover first and wipes it on to Lance’s arm. Still none of the ink lifts off. Hunk even looks at the cotton swab he used to see if it looks a bit discoloured. Nothing. Next is Pidge’s turn, who tries eucalyptus and tea tree oil, both known for removing adhesive residue. Neither removes anything here. Hunk returns with a small amount of methylated spirits. He says he wouldn’t recommend it, but they try it anyway. Nothing except a tingling sensation. Lance flops on the bench.

 

“I’m cursed.” He states.

“You might be.” Hunk laughs. Pidge pulls out a microscope and some slides.

 

“What are you gonna do with that?” Lance asks.

“See if I can figure this out on a cellular level.” She smirks. With a pair of tweezers she plucks a hair from Lance’s arm. He shrieks.

“What are you-?”

“It’s for science! Now give me a hair from your non-penised arm for comparison!”

Lance sighs but obligingly holds out his other arm. Pidge takes a hair.

 

With both hairs, she begins to place them on a slide next to each other. She carefully lays over a cover slip and slides them under the microscope.

“What are you looking for?” Hunk starts to move closer to her shoulder as she scales through the different lenses.

“Anything, but I should see… huh…”

“What?” Lance doesn’t like the sound of that noise.

“It’s just…hmmmm. Hunk you wanna look at these?” Pidge steps to the side and allows Hunk to look into the eye piece. Hunk carefully examines the two hairs side by side.

 

“Oh that’s odd.”

“What?” There’s a trace of panic in Lance’s voice now.

“Both hairs are exactly the same.”

“When you draw on someone’s arm… the ink stains the hairs on your arm as well… but there’s nothing here.” Pidge explains. “So its like… no one drew on top of your arm.”

“What are you saying?” Lance tries to grapple with what he’s hearing.

“I’m saying that maybe it’s a dick…. From beyond!” Pidge dramatically whispers.

 

Hunk and Lance both shoot her a skeptical look.

“Are you sure that the ink just didn’t wash off of the hairs, but adhere stronger to my skin?” Lance proposes.

“It’s possible. But less cool.” Pidge smirks.

“It seems that…”

 

And Lance has to stop. Because in front of his very eyes, the ink starts to change. It begins to bleed and smudge. Right, left, right, left. With every swipe it fades until there is almost no evidence it was ever there.

 

“WHAAAAAAAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUU-!”

“DEMON ARM DICK!” Hunk points and shouts. He jumps three feet backwards, like he’s worried his best friend might be possessed.

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit.” Pidge gets closer to Lance’s arm and stares in disbelief at the last few swipes. She grapples for something in her skirt pocket and pulls out a blue marker. She shoves it in Lance’s hand.

“WRITE SOMETHING BACK! IT’S FOR SCIENCE!”

With trembling fingers Lance takes the marker. He tries to think of what he could possibly write. He presses it to his skin.

 

Hello? Penis fiend?

 

Is what his first words are.

 

 

Down the hall, Keith’s screeching continues. He runs back into the kitchen, dripping with water, and shoves his arm in Shiro’s face.

“LOOK! LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!”

 

Shiro and Matt both look at the fresh note on Keith’s arm.

 

Hello? Penis fiend?

 

Matt unapologetically laughs. Shiro shakes his head and smiles.

“Well, I guess you better write back now.”

 

 

And suddenly, in squat, red, handwriting, a word appears on Lance’s arm.

 

Sorry

 

The three friends all scream and Lance shakes his arm like it’s something disgusting he wants to shed. He runs and jumps on the spot. Pidge is holding her head in her hands and just sprinting around the room. Hunk has shoved himself in the furthest corner, seemingly waiting for Lance’s head to start spinning.

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Lance scrawls down his arm in smudgy, fearful writing.

 

I know. I know.

 

HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?

 

I think

 

There’s a long pause before the full sentence is completed.

 

I think we’re soul mates.

 

Lance stares down at the words. His breath leaves him in a rush.

“GUYS!”

Pidge and Hunk stop their yelling.

“Guys… I think this is my soul link.”

Pidge immediately relaxes.

“Oh yeah that’s totally it.”

“Oh yeah, of course. Why didn’t we think of that?” Hunk starts to approach his friend again. They both calmly look at the conversation on Lance’s arm, as if the previous outburst never happened.

 

Holy shit. Lance replies

 

Pidge and Hunk begin to discuss the means by which these messages travel. What underlying biology must Lance and his soul mate share? Pidge excitedly thinks about the possibilities, what other uses could this ability have? Whilst Hunk wonders about the comparisons to their own technology. Could he convince Lance and his soul mate to race their writings against a text message?

 

On his arm, Lance’s note of Holy Shit is circled several times in that foreign red ink.

 

Yup. Comes the reply.

 

Lance is so focused on the letters coming in that he doesn’t hear the bell. He finally registers Hunk’s insistent voice.

 

“Lance! We’re gonna be late to class!”

“Shit, sorry. Uh, you go ahead. I gotta clean up.” Lance looks at his arm now completely covered in scrawl.

 

Hey, sorry I have to go back to class now. Will write later.

 

WAIT!

 

Lance stops at the urgent message.

 

Ok He replies. He can be a bit late for class. Iverson can suck it.

 

How old are you?

 

  1. Lance pauses. Almost 18. He adds. Yeah. That’s necessary.

 

U?

 

19

 

Oh, so older ;p Lance giggles to himself as he adds the winky face.

 

Boy?

 

This question makes Lance hesitate. He is, but he suddenly wonders why his soul mate is asking. For Lance it doesn’t really matter, but he wonders if his soul mate is looking for a confirmation or refusal. Are they that scared of what the answer might be?

 

Is that what you want? He writes back. It’s a little coy.

 

Yes.

 

“Oh,” Lance actually says out loud. He’s caught off guard by the speed of the reply.

 

Yeah I am.

 

Cool. Is all he gets back. Lance isn’t satisfied with that.

 

U?

 

Boy

 

Oh

 

That ok?

 

Yeah! Lance writes in a hurry. He realizes his initial reaction sounds disappointed.

 

Gay?

 

No bi. That ok?

 

Yeah. I’m gay.

 

Ok And Lance has to laugh because he suddenly feels at a loss for words… which is a first for him. He is thankful for the second bell.

 

Will talk later! Will sort things out. Have class now!

 

Ok. Have fun.

 

PLEASE WASH ARM. TEACHER’S WILL SEE!

 

K

 

Lance runs over to the sinks and begins to wash his arm. His writing bleeds away easily, but there’s a strange disconnect as his soul mate’s writing disappears at a different rate. Almost like his skin is a digital texture that has failed to properly load. It makes him dizzy to look at.

 

When the last of the foreign words have smeared off his skin, Lance looks up at his reflection in the mirror. He notices that his heart is thundering in his chest.

 

“I have a soul mate.”

 

 

Shiro quietly knocks on Keith’s bedroom door. He peeks in when he hears no answer. Keith sits on his bed with his head in his hands.

 

“Hey, I stopped hearing screaming so I figured things were either ok or…” Shiro starts to approach his brother and kneels in front of him. He touches his knee.

 

“He’s a 17 year old boy.” Keith sighs. The tips of his ears are pink.

 

“Aw,” Shiro chuckles. “He’s a baby.”

 

 

After dinner, Lance sits on his bed and stares down at his arm. The marker in his hand is shaking. He gulps.

 

Hi.

 

He waits. It’s late, so the recipient could be in bed already. He has no idea what his life entails. What if he was a baking apprentice and had to wake up at 4am?

 

Hey.

 

Lance is both relieved and nervous to have a reply so quickly. He wishes he could sleep and process all this (but who is he kidding. He would never get to sleep after all this).

 

This is so weird.

 

You get used to it.

 

That confuses Lance. Why does it sound like his soul mate has already adjusted? Has he experienced this before?

 

What do you mean?

 

You write on yourself a lot. This has been happening for a while.

 

Lance gasps. He thinks about all the inappropriate things he may have written. All the small details about his life that he may have inadvertently shared. But mostly he’s confused why he never saw any notes back. Maybe the communication had been one way for a while?

 

Oh man. Sorry. Did you write back?

 

No.

 

Why not?

 

Lance tries to not let his writing look as offended as he feels.

 

Scared

 

And now he feels like an asshole.

 

Aw, why :(

 

Worried. You seemed to have a lot of responsibilities. There were kids drawings. Thought you might be an old man with a family.

 

Oh! No! I’m sorry.

 

And he has to stifle a laugh. Now he understands his soul mate’s hesitation. It’s completely understandable to assume he might have a family of his own with how frequently he has to write reminders to pick his nieces and nephews up from daycare.

 

But 17 years old right?

 

17 :) I have a big family. Lots of siblings. I take care of little nieces and nephews a lot and they like to draw on me.

 

That’s nice.

 

Lance ponders where he will reply as the last bit of bare arm skin is covered. This means of communication is definitely not the most practical, but it fills him with a sense of excitement. It’s personal and special.

 

Move to leg He writes over the top of old messages.

 

K appears on his knee.

 

You have a family?

 

Just 1 brother.

 

Older?

 

Yeah

 

Me too. He’s an asshole.

 

Mine’s good.

 

He drew peen?

 

No, that was his friend.

 

Funny prank. Telling him thanks for making us talk.

 

But then Lance suddenly realizes how terrifying this morning must have been. How his soul mate would have been suddenly dragged into this confrontation that he was too scared to initiate himself. Lance finds his big brother skills overtaking him.

 

Still scared?

 

Yeah.

 

“I figured,” He huffs to himself.

 

Listen, I know this is really scary and serious, but I just want you to know that there’s no pressure between us. We might be ‘soul mates’ but that doesn’t mean anything has to happen. You could have someone already and that’s fine. I’m not owed anything.

 

Lance sighs. Then continues.

 

Nothing is set in stone. But I hope you don’t mind that I would like to get to know you? Maybe be friends?

 

There’s a long pause and during every moment of it Lance’s pulse is stuttering.

 

Yeah. Me too.

 

“Oooohhhh thank god.” Lance groans with relief and slumps forward. He takes big, calculated breaths before he reaches for his marker again.

 

You’ll like me. I promise. I’m very charming.

 

And modest apparently

 

Oh? Oh, so his soul mate could be snarky? Lance sniggers and draws a cheeky winky face on his thigh.

 

Hobbies? His soul mate asks. Lance makes a delighted little noise and begins to excitedly write on his other leg.

 

I’m on the swim team. Surf a lot. Babysit. Video games.

 

Ah. Cute beach boy.

 

Lance adds ‘extremely’ in front of the word ‘cute’. He hopes it makes his new friend laugh.

 

You?

 

Not a lot. Martial arts? Go camping a lot. Like space stuff.

 

ME TOO! Lance replies emphatically. His hand is a blur as his writing now comes pouring out of him.

 

I’m trying to get into astrophysics or astronomy at university.

 

Wow. Must be smart.

 

Not really. Just try to work really hard.

 

That’s even better though.

 

And it’s dumb, but that honestly gives Lance the gentlest smile. He’s always been self conscious about not being smarter, so these words of praise from a stranger touch on something deep in his chest.

 

You?

 

I’m not sure. Kind of in a weird place. Going to night school right now.

 

That’s cool. It’s hard to figure stuff out.

 

Sounds like you have a good plan. I’m sure you’ll get in.

 

Thanks.

 

There’s banging on Lance’s door and he jumps on the spot.

“Lance, are you still awake?” His dad asks. Lance casts his eyes down at his untouched phone.

12:13am

 

Damn, ok. Time had really gotten away from him. He’s going to be exhausted at school tomorrow, or even worse if he doesn’t get to bed soon.

 

Sorry I really gotta sleep. Talk tomorrow?

 

Yeah.

 

Cool. Night!

 

WAIT!

 

And Lance pauses.

 

What’s you’re name?

 

Lance’s fingers hover over his thigh. As much as he wants to scrawl out his name, he still has to exercise caution. He doesn’t truly know who this person is yet and his stranger danger training is screaming at him.

 

Not telling

 

What? Why not?

 

Lance laughs. He draws a little face sticking its tongue out then explains.

 

Well I’ll admit part of me is still nervous. I don’t truly know you yet. But also because you could have a common name like James or something. And I can’t have a mini heart attack every time I meet a James and start yelling at him asking if he’s ever talked to a 17yo on his arm.

 

Ah I see.

 

Unless you have a crazy rare name that you can 100% guarantee I’ll never meet another of.

 

I can’t.

 

Me neither.

 

So what do I call you then?

 

A devious smirk crosses Lance’s features.

 

Hmmm what about Mr. S for soulmate?

 

Absolutely not

 

Lance scoffs

 

Aw please? I wanna be cool and mysterious

 

Lol nah

 

Fine. Lance admits that he is a bit disappointed. We’ll figure something out. Gotta sleep now.

 

Ok talk tomorrow?

 

Yeah. Get whiteboard markers! Easier to wash off!

 

K

 

Night!

 

Night

 

 

Lance enters class the next day with unmarked skin and a spring in his step. There’s dark circles under his eyes, but despite this he smiles a little wider.

“What’s gotten into you?” Hunk teases when Lance slides into his seat next to him.

“What? Nothing.” Lance laughs and starts to pull out his books. Hunk doesn’t buy it. His eyes narrow and start to scan over his friend. When his gaze reaches his arm he remembers.

“Oh yeah, how did talking to the soul mate go?”

“Oh great!” Lance beams. “He’s 19, and he sounds really adventurous being into martial arts and camping. We both like space stuff, so that’s exciting and…. Why are you looking at me like that?” He stops his excited rambling as Hunk starts to wear the largest knowing grin he’s ever seen.

“That’s what’s different. You liiike him.” He sings.

“I do not.” Lance scoffs. “I barely know him. He just seems nice is all. And what? I’m not allowed to be a little excited? My skin is an organic transmitter!” Lance’s dramatics earn him a long glare as their teacher finally enters the room.

 

“McClain, save the theatrics for drama club.” She starts.

“Just hyped for Shakespeare, Miss.”

“Uh huh.”

 

Lance and Hunk turn their texts to the page indicated. Hunk tries to hide his smirk.

“I’m just saying, Lance…” Hunk whispers. “I know you can get ahead of yourself”

“I’m not getting ahead of myself.” He hisses.

 

The class settles into their work and most students lose themselves in reading and highlighting the prescribed packages. Lance becomes restless after only half an hour. English has never been his strong suit and he finds it difficult to focus. Despite Hunk’s warning, he does find his mind wandering back to the previous night. What did his soul mate look like? What was he doing right now? Were they even on the same side of the world?

 

Lance takes his new blue marker and draws a tic-tac-toe board on his arm. He smiles as he places a knot in the centre.

 

 

Keith is blearily eating breakfast with Shiro. It’s the first time in months he’s woken up to no notes on his arms, and if he’s honest, it makes him feel oddly naked. Had he always been this pale?

 

He munches on some bland cereal that Shiro insists is good for digestion. Shiro is mercifully exhausted and has not yet put himself together mentally, so Keith hasn’t been grilled about his conversation with his soul mate just yet. Shiro sits in an uncharacteristically disheveled state, nursing a large mug of black coffee and some buttered toast.

 

Keith is mentally running over his errands for the day when he sees the lines start to appear. Four intersecting lines and then a circle in the middle.

 

“Wha…?” He murmurs around his mouthful of cereal. This attracts Shiro’s attention who now sees the tic-tac-toe board. His eyes widen just a tad and he sleepily grins.

“Well isn’t that adorable.” He laughs.

“What does he want?” Keith looks perplexed. Shiro shakes his head.

“Play with him you dork.”

“Oh… oh ok.” Keith nods. He reaches for his marker and puts a cross in the top right corner. Another circle appears.

 

The game continues until Keith draws a victorious line through three horizontal crosses.

 

“Aw you didn’t let him win?”

“Of course not.” Keith scoffs. He’s about to start a new game when his soul mate begins drawing something new. A series of dashes.

 

_ _   _ _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _

 

Keith is a bit perplexed. He isn’t sure if his soul mate knows morse code? Or if this might be some other game?

 

“It’s hangman.” Shiro prompts.

“Oh,” Keith breathes. “Oh ok”.

His cereal lies soggy and forgotten as he begins to guess letters.

 

A?

 

_ _ _ _ a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 

e?

 

_ _ _ e a _ _ _   _ _ _ e _

 

s?

 

A vertical line appears on his arm. Ok. No s.

 

They continue to play until Keith manages to figure it out with a little laugh. His little man is still pretty safe with only the head drawn so far.

 

I_ r e a _ _ y _ o r e _

 

Can I solve?

 

Sure thing.

 

I’m really bored?

 

His soul mate fills in the rest of the letters, drawing colourful swirly lines and stars around the completed phrase.

 

You did it!

 

Great! Now pay attention to your teacher.

 

Aw man.

 

You need good grades.

 

It just sucks so much.

 

Patience yields focus

 

You’re not my mom and his soul mate signs off with another face of someone sticking out their tongue. Keith grins.

 

Shiro stares over his cup of coffee with intense interest.

 

 

When Lance lies in his bed that night, with the moon light streaming in and the sound of spring crickets chirping outside, he can’t help but stare at his arms with wonder.

 

Hunk had seen straight through him.

 

Of course he had. Lance had always been a romantic and intensely invested in the idea of soul mates. While his brothers had all enjoyed movies about adventurers and murder mysteries, Lance always sided with his sisters when it came to picking what they would watch. Usually large tales about star-crossed lovers destined to be together. Of course he loved the sword fights ad the slap-stick fun, but his favorite part was always when the lovers would finally kiss. He had always loved… well love. The idea of being in it. Of there being someone else who would make him feel so complete and whole. It was difficult to keep himself in check now that he knew he had another half.

 

He swore he wouldn’t get carried away, but that eight year old inside of him still feels a rush every time his skin is marked by somebody else.

 

He takes out his marker and draws crudely on his arm. A terrible face with a sharp chin and short hair. He draws a lopsided grin and small ears that stick out.

 

Hey babe! This is me! Draw you!

 

 

“Haaaabveyffu,” Keith blusters in his seat. His older classmate next to him shoots him a concerned look. Keith tries to school his expression into something that resembles neutrality, but he just ends up looking constipated. Especially with his cheeks turning so red. His classmate still looks confused, but pulls his attention back to his books.

 

Is that what you’re calling me? He hopes he sounds cool and not incredibly panicked.

 

Yeah. A pause. Is that ok?

 

Keith smiles knowing his soul mate must feel embarrassed.

 

Yeah.

 

Cool :) Now draw you!

 

Keith stares down at the drawing. It’s silly and doesn’t really tell him anything about what his soul mate looks like, except that he has short hair, but it makes him grin stupidly. Keith quickly glances up to see what their instructor is asking them to do. It’s a chapter he’s already gone through by himself. Great, he can afford to stop paying attention for a while.

 

He pulls out a watercolour pencil and licks the end.

 

 

Lance stares in awe as his arm is very slowly marked. Feint pink lines come through first with a light and quick touch, applying what look like guidelines. Simple shapes are sketched out, until finally, the familiar sure strokes of the red marker start to appear. Lance follows the shape of an angled jawline, sharp eyes, and a fine nose. Soft strokes make out long, feathery, hair that falls in front of his ears and along his neck.

 

He looks beautiful.

 

Done! His soul mate signs his art. It’s simple and quick, but actually gives Lance a decent impression of what his soul mate might look like.

 

WHOA! He quickly writes back. He starts to draw little stars around his soul mate’s head.

 

So talented! Amazing!

 

Thanks :)

 

Is that really what you look like?

 

Yeah? I guess? I’m not very good at drawing photorealistic or anything. But yeah I’d say I do.

 

Cute! Cute! <3

 

Lance starts to draw little love hearts next to his soul mate’s face.

 

 

“Hggrrrk,” Keith splutters. His classmate turns over his shoulder and shushes him. Keith sends his most menacing glare back.

 

He can’t help how his heart stutters at the little, plump, love hearts that now decorate his arm. It’s a normal reaction. He’s rarely been complimented on his looks. Throughout his life he had been called “mean looking” or accused of having “resting bitch face”. No one had ever called him “cute”… well except for Shiro, but that hardly counted.

 

Keith is stumped for words. Luckily his soul mate seems to be writing something else.

 

Even if you do have that mullet ;p

 

Keith gasps. He frowns and aggressively reaches for his marker.

 

IT’S NOT A MULLET!

 

Is so ;p

 

Keith pouts until a new drawing begins to come through. A strange and bubbly figure eight appears on his arm, with several fine spots drawn on top.

 

This is a garlic knot! It’s my favorite food. Draw your favorite food?

 

Keith scoffs.

 

Why?

 

I like your art! Send me art! And I wanna get to know you :)

 

Keith sighs. A mischievous grin slides across his features.

 

K

 

And it takes him five seconds to draw a circle and scatter some dark spots inside of it.

 

Cookie He replies.

 

Aw, c’mon

 

Fine, fine.

 

He takes a bit longer this time, drawing a tall and narrow arch that pokes out of a rectangle. He draws a distinctive ‘M’ on the rectangle, before adding some rough texture to the shape that pokes out of it.

 

Is that… a McDonald’s hash brown?

 

Yeah.

 

Oh my god. Amazing. Send me art throughout the day please! But I gotta do homework now.

 

Ah ok. Night.

 

Night babe!

 

Keith groans and falls forward on his desk. How dare these stupid notes on his arm make his body react like this. He isn’t prepared to have such nice words thrown at him and called sweet names. He isn’t adjusted for this at all.

 

Keith stares at the silly face of his soul mate until it fades. Washed off from the other side.

 

He doodles in his notebook what his other half might really look like until his class finishes.