This is my first In the Flesh fic, and probably the most serious fic I've written so far.
Disclamir: I own nothing, all rights belong to their rightful owners!
It started in the 70s; little nonsensical numbers running vertically up the right arm of random people. The numbers were all different, but all had one thing in common: all were counting down to zero. People feared that the number was telling them when they would die, others thought of the numbers as some sort of evil. It wasn't until 1976 that sociologists discovered what the numbers actually meant. Two individuals were discovered to share the same number and with the help of the group of sociologists studying the numbers, they were able to meet.
When the two people sharing the counting down numbers met, their clocks reached zero and the two burst into tears. At first neither the two or the sociologists knew what was going on, but it was later decided that the two were soulmates.
Soon after that everyone was being born with a countdown on their arm. The older generation still had doubts in the idea of soulmates, but didn't show outright disdain for the idea of them.
The countdown wasn't perfect though. Oftentimes before the two people met, one would die and their soulmates number would turn black and the numbers would stop counting down. Sometimes people ignored the number and let their soulmates pass them by.
The color of the number was what people had to pay attention to. When your soulmate was sick, even if you hadn't met them yet would turn a sickly yellow color. When they were hurt it'd turn red.
Kieren's countdown had been an orange color for months. He noticed it while he sat in the cave with Rick and couldn't help the flinch at the violent orange stretched across his arm.
"What's up, Ren?" Rick asked picking up on Kieren's sudden distress.
"It's just... it's never been orange before," He confessed softly.
Kieren saw Rick's demeanor change from concerned to bitter. Rick was one if the few born with his countdown already at zero, the black harsh against the skin of a screaming baby.
"You're soulmate will live through it," Rick grumbled, pull in Kieren closer to his body. "He should be here already, your knight in shying armor."
"Rick, that's not how it works. I have to wait for the timer to get down to zero."
"Well, why can't I be your soulmate for now? I can keep you happy."
Kieren looked at Rick with wide eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd asked Kieren to let them be together, Rick was his best friend. He knew how much Rick wanted to have a soulmate, how much he desired to have that connection he'd never get. This was something Kieren could do for Rick by just being himself. It never had to go further than kissing, Rick would respect his boundaries.
"Do you promise not to go further than kissing?" Kieren asked, not meeting Rick's eyes. As much as he wanted to Give something to Rick, he still felt like he was betraying his soulmate, especially while the number was still the color it was.
Kieren didn't receive an answer from Rick before rough lips were moving against his. The kiss was rough and wet with Rick grasping at Kieren, trying to pull him closer, still so desperate for that deeper connection. Kieren tried to give Rick what he wanted, tried to allow him some semblance of the bond, but could only press his lips to the other in soft movements.
When the two separated Rick gave Kieren the biggest smile Kieren had seen on Rick's face since he had successfully nabbed two bottles of beer from his father's storage five weeks ago. Rick pulled him into a hug and leaned his face into his hair.
"I love you, Ren," Rick mumbled into his mop of hair.
It took all that Kieren had not to burst into tears at the confession. He knew that he could never love Rick like he did him: unrestrained, fully, not hindered by a countdown that changed colors more often than a chameleon.
"I-I love you too, Rick," he whispered back. Because that was the only thing Kieren could do for Rick, he was only Kieren Walker.
The next day Kieren woke up to find that Rick had left for basic training, not even a note left behind for him. Kieren felt both relieved and hurt by the situation. He was happy that he wouldn't have to be Rick's pseudo-soulmate, but was hurt that Rick couldn't stand a full day as his soulmate before running away, not that Kieren really blamed him. He was just Kieren Walker, the shy, queer artist who worried about the various colors of his countdown more than he did his paint palettes.
A few months later and he received the news that Rick had been caught in an explosion and was announced dead. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, none of his thousands of letters had been returned, not even a simple "hello" had been sent back and now he'd never get a reply.
He went through the motions of putting on the black suit. The rain splatter against an empty casket as it was lowered into the ground. Kieren had taken off his jacket and placed it over Jem's shoulders to keep her dry and which is how he saw it happen.
The white of his dress shirt had gone nearly see through from the rain and only the decision of wearing an undershirt saved him from embarrassment. But the undershirt didn't cover his arms. He caught it out of the corner of his eye. The sickly yellow that had been there for nearly a day slowly faded into an murky yellowish-green before seeping into inky horror.
Kieren couldn't stop himself from running from Rick's funeral. He couldn't think. All he could see was black numbers stopped at 1 year 5 months 22 days 3 hours 43 minutes 8 seconds. 1:05:22:03:43 scrawled across his arm in black. He'd never seen something so ugly.
Before he realized it he was in the cave Rick and he had hung out in more often than not. He looked at the spray painted words "Rick + Ren 4ever". It had been something cute they had done when they were younger, gave Rick a sense of comfort that he wouldn't be alone. All it did for Kieren was make him feel more alone.
He fiddled desperately around in the pockets of his dress pants, pulling out the present he'd received from his father: a silver army knife. He flicked the blade open carefully as to not cut his fingers, he knew what he was doing.
With the precision he'd gained from his art he dragged the knife across the black numbers; felt the warmth of blood bubble over the top and bottom of the numbers.
Satisfied with his work on his right arm, he repeated the action across his other arm, letting his blood drip onto his white shirt.
He let the knife rest in his hands as he relaxed his arms. He vaguely wondered if the college would give his scholarship away to someone else, someone who knew how much red was needed to complete the painting. He regretted not writing something to his family, but couldn't bring himself to care too much about it.
After all, he was just Kieren Walker, not even his soulmate wanted him.
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. Please leave a comment if you have time!
