The first time he noticed the newly formed lines on his pale skin, Gilbert had panicked. He barely kept himself from screeching when he peeled his shirt off, all along his left arm were lines in a deep shade of black, making it impossible to see a trace of the colour underneath. Struggling to breathe, he inspected the marks, following them as they swirled and zigzaged across his skin, reaching down to his wrist. There were patches where the lines had an obvious show of more pressure from where they slightly bled, while others were almost see through. Taking it all in, trying to assess it, he concluded it was a monster of some sort, neck long with a small head, body mostly hidden in what he assumed to be a lake, judging by the stones and trees surrounding it. He had to constantly twist and turn his arm to get a full picture, the lines were shaky, as if the artist was unsure with their movements and some things seemed just off about it, trees seeming out of place and the water seeming plain. It wasn't a masterpiece by far, but it wasn't terrible either. If it wasn't on his skin, the boy may have liked it.
When he finished taking off his clothes, the seven year old stepped into the water filled tub, worry evident in his face. Taking the bar of soap, he rubbed as much of it into the bath rag as he could, trying to make it as soapy as possible. Without even bothering with the rest of his body, Gilbert roughly scrubbed at the lines, trying to wash them off his skin. The soapy rag not having much of an effect, other than irritating his skin and causing a burning sensation on his arm, causing it to turn bright red and pink. Soon tears welled up in his eyes, growing frustrated and panicked, when they bubbled over, they streamed down his face and dripped down to join the soapy and slowly cooling water. Soon those tears became gasping sobs as his body shook with desperate cries. His skin tore and bled the more he scrubbed, small red dots turning into bigger ones as blood came to the surface and slid down his skin, bright red and complementary to the black ink, still prominent as before. The blood mixing into the water gave it an almost unnoticeable tint of pink and he gave a small final sob, his breathing quivered and he trembled.
With a hiccup, he stood stepping out of the tub, watching as water and blood slipped down his body and onto the floor. Gracelessly, he reached down to grab the towel sitting inches away from the growing puddle at his feet. He made drying himself quick work, hissing and letting loose a few tears as it went over his arm, pulling and snagging the torn skin. Once he was dry, he slid on that day's clothes, the fabric soft and of an obviously fine quality. His steps were acquainted with hiccups and snivels, his hair dripping and creating wet marks on his shirt. "Maman?" He softly called out, his body trembling. It wasn't long before footsteps echoed in the halls, drawing nearer until his mother came close, putting him into a tight hug. "What's the matter mon petite souris?" She quickly leaned back, still low to the ground, fussing over her child.
"I-" He hiccuped, "I'm so sorry Mama!" He cried out, running forwards to hug her again. Gently rubbing his back, soothing him.
"What happened Gilbert? I'm sure it's nothing that can't be fixed," Adrienne said calmly, running a hand through his inky hair. When the boy stepped away, she watched as he pulled his sleeve up, revealing his bloody and design covered arm.
"I don't know how it got there! I woke up and it was there, it won't come off, Maman! I can't get it to go away even though I keep trying to wash it off!" He sobbed, tears returning to accompany his wails. They slowed down though when he realized he wasn't being chided and instead his other simply gave a quiet laugh.
"Oh Gilbert, you've done nothing wrong, this is something wonderful!" She exclaimed, bringing him into a tight hug.
"So I'm not in trouble?" He asked cautiously, talking into her shoulder, trying to not make eye contact.
"Not at all, do you know what this means?" The brunette asked, taking his hands and swinging him in a circle with her as she stood, almost in a dance. She took his silence as a no and smiled, slowing them to a stop. "Your soulmate made that, whatever they draw on their skin will appear on you, it's the same for them. From what I can tell, your soulmate isn't too bad at art, if I say so myself." She gave a slight frown, before dusting off imaginary dirt off her dress. "Let's get you fixed up, it wouldn't be good to for those cuts to get any worse," she grabbed his hand, half dragging him to the bathroom. Letting loose his arm, Adrienne started to go through cupboards and drawers. When she stepped away, she held a box of band-aids and a small set of scissors. Once she cut several away from the rest, a bottle of antiseptic found her hand to replace the scissors. "This is going to hurt, but you can be my brave petite souris, right?" She asked, leaning down and grabbing his arm. A leftover tear streaked down his face as he have a sharp nod, his cheeks puffed out. The woman smiled, "good." She hummed before dripping the anesthetic on a cotton ball and placing it on one of the slowly scabbing cuts. Gilbert let out a cry, but held still as the medicine ran and seeped into his wounds.
It seemed like ages before the antiseptic was put away, "you're so brave Gilbert," she hummed before placing band-aids on the worse scrapes. "It's all done now," she soothed, caressing his face. The raven haired boy gave a shaky and tear filled smile before leaning in to hug his mother. As she ran a hand through his hair, she smiled. Gently, she let him loose and nudged him away. "Now why don't you go message your soulmate, I'm sure they're waiting for you. You can even go use one if your father's pens," she said softly. With a sharp nod he bolted out of the room and down the halls. Doors passed as his feet hit against the floor with soft thuds, the further he got, the slower he became. Until he came to a stop in front of a large wooden door, seemingly taller and more ominous than the he turned the handle to the room and leaned against the door, pushing it open. The office was extravagant, furniture luxurious and large paintings decorating the walls. The desk at the end of the room was empty, papers delicately piled and seat pushed in. Making his way to behind the dark wood desk he reached up, stretching on his toes before grabbing a fountain pen from off the surface. After acquiring it, he disappeared to his room, making sure to close the door behind him.
When he found himself sitting upon his bed, he thanked the fact he was ambidextrous, so he wouldn't be stuck writing half legible words to his soulmate. With a moment of hesitation and a twitchy hand, Gilbert wrote the simple word, "hello."