Hey guys, guess who's back about four years later with a lot less cringe? It's me, Livvie! (I'm sure I just made that first statement very convincing). I've been going through some stuff in my life that I need to get away from and I though "What better way to forget about feeling like the bottom of a shoe than to go back to doing something that I used to love"? Don't get me wrong-I've always loved writing, but I just haven't done it freely since, again, about 2014. To be quiet honest, I'm not as into what I'm writing about as I once was, but that doesn't mean I never was. It also doesn't mean I can't still write bomb stories about these characters-they'll just have a bit more of my personal flare.
Most of you probably don't care about this anyway, so I'll just get on with it and get into the story:
John had always hidden the marks that appeared on his arms; him as well as the rest of his family. His father, Henry, had painted an image to the public of prim, proper, and pressed, and it was up to the Laurens children to uphold said image.
The others never had quite the same problems he had for covering up their markings. His siblings seemed to have soulmates who were tame and understood that there was never going to be a response, so writing was useless and damaging in the public eye. John's soulmate, on the other hand, seemed to have turned their bodies into breathing canvasses. Ink and notes and dates and doodles constantly found home on his arms and thighs; occasionally drifting on to his chest and stomach. Although John loved to see the flicks of marker from his supposed one-true-love, his father had other things to say.
Ever since John turned three, he had worn foundation across his visible skin. He was now 14 and could barely remember what his skin looked like without it. His soulmate left no inch untouched by the soft felt tip of his sharpie, and John was left to reep the consequences. His freckles that dotted his entire being were never free from the thick pale foundation-causing him to stand out amongst all the other freckled Laurens children. The oldest and the most influential of the siblings, and yet he was forced behind a mask on the daily to keep his father's image one of class.
John's mother fell more into the shadows with John. Henry was such a large and powerful figure in South Carolina, but she simply stood aside and let him do as he wished. She used to write to him when they were children, but now the only thing that blemished their delicate skin was a small pair of intertwined hearts tattooed just behind their right ears. He always dreamed of having a love like his parents-one where his father caved into getting a tattoo for his mom; however, based on how his father was forcing him to treat whoever it was who brandished the felt tip marker, John almost couldn't image her wanting to even stay with him.
Although John had all these fears surrounding his soulmate and however that was going to play out, he was also entering his freshman year of high school; also known as the most depressing place to be for any teenager. And although he was worried about the person with the marker, he was more worried about not fitting in. It kind of connects back to the whole soulmate ordeal, but the majority of people had already met and gotten together with the person they were going to marry and were flourishing before they have to take on the responsibilities following high school. Not only that, but John feared he was going to meet his soulmate at the high school and have to explain to her why he'd never once wrote back.
John couldn't even fathom the idea of knowing your soulmate was ignoring you-or worse; you were an anomaly and didn't even have one in the first place. There was only ever one documented person who "didn't have a soulmate", and even then, their soulmate just wasn't born yet. Image being 35 and finding out your soulmate was 3 weeks old, because that's what that woman went through. And straight after that baby turned 18 they stuck together like glue because the woman didn't have hardly much time left to live considering all the drugs she took when she thought she'd be single forever.
It was a bit off topic, but still relevant. Like, what if whoever this woman was ended up doing the same things that that lady did; drugs, alcohol, the whole shebang? His father would never let him be with a woman who did that kind of thing to herself. His mother would be much more forgiving, but she fell victim to his father's strong opinions almost every day.
John sighed and took a deep breath. He stared into his mirror and blended his foundation just slightly more around his jaw. This was all too much to be thinking about for someone who was about to begin a whole new life at a whole new school. He was getting himself siked up before he even stepped foot in the building. He flipped his short, curly auburn hair through his hands and ran his fingers along the freshly buzzed sides before cuffing his sleeves and turning for the door; backpack slung over left shoulder.
Alex ran his hands through his long, greasy hair and tied it up in the sloppiest high ponytail he'd done in a long time. The small braid Hercules so meticulously put in before he went to bed was now a tangled mess that blended in astonishingly with his messy hair look for the first day of high school. His eyebrows were thick and full; though they couldn't distract anyone from the heavy eyebags that found home on his cool, ashy face. His nose sat awkwardly among this array of strong features and fought to be noticed against the others-sticking out far too much to be in proportion with his slim and petite face. He picked up his clunky, thick glasses and wiped the smudges off as best he could with his ratty pajama shirt before shoving them on his face.
Alex turned to grab his button up short sleeve shirt before cuffing the sleeves slightly and throwing on the plaid print over his plain white shirt-leaving it unbuttoned. Black skinny jeans were a go to and found a place in his look as well as some torn-up high tops.
Alex's arms showcased thousands of small reminders and notes and doodles he wrote to himself. He flipped up his palm and grabbed a sharpie before checking off "dress well" on his "First Day of HS" list. He took a final look at himself in the mirror before grabbing his bag and going to get a cup of coffee.
Hercules had already poured him a cup to go when he walked into the kitchen-two creams, five sugars. Alex liked to think he was a black coffee drinker, but he knew he was sugar's bitch.
"Ready to go, dirt bag?" Hercules asked, staring at his hair.
"Alway," Alex said, "look what's in my hand."
"I suppose you're right," Hercules said with a chuckle, grabbing his own cup. The pair headed out of the tiny apartment complex to Herc's old Honda and got in to head off to school.
I realize that this was a bit short and it ended abruptly, but work with me here. It's my first time writing for fun in a while, I wanna keep y'all interested, and it's one in the morning and I have to be up at four to get ready for swimming. So please let me know if y'all like it. Live some criticism for me and thank you for reading this all ig?