Chapter Text
Mark sighs as he glances at the clock again. The bell wouldn't be ringing anytime soon no matter how much he wants the class to be over. The pencil in his hand is lightly tapping the book on his desk. He tries to fight the urge to look at the clock again as the teacher drones on.
He sighs again as his mind starts to wander.
When the bell does ring, Mark gathers his things and walks out the door. The end is near. Just one more class.
From Mark's experience, the halls were usually hard to navigate if you knew where you were going. If you didn't, you'd be extremely lucky to get to class on time. Sometimes, you'd be lucky to get to class at all.
He makes his way through the huge crowd, trying to find the art room. It doesn't take long before he gets there.
He enters the room and makes his way to his seat, greeting the teacher briefly. He takes out a small sketchbook, a few drawing pencils, and some other things he would need for class. The other students trickle in with a few that walk in late.
They are told to keep working on their projects as Mark opens the book on his desk to a partially finished sketch. It was his best one so far, in his opinion at least.
He picks up a pencil and gets to work.
The class is over before he can blink, and he's outside before his mind can catch up. He straightens up the backpack on his shoulders and continues onto the sidewalk in front of the school.
It wasn't a long walk, just short enough that a car would be almost pointless unless he was late. But it was long enough that he was slightly out of breath when he got home. It didn't really make sense.
When he walks in the door, he almost gets tackled by a large furry mass. Mark chuckles more to himself as he gives Chica a few pats on the head. She just barks back at him.
"Wanna play?" He asks the dog.
Chica barks as she makes her way to the small dog toy box against the wall. She grabs a small red ball and brings it back to him. He smiles as he takes the ball and throws it into the backyard. Chica rushes out the backdoor and into the yard to get the object. Then she brings it back, prompting him to throw it again.
The two of them go at this for a while before it gets too dark. He takes the ball from Chica one last time before they go back inside.
Dinner is a quiet affair before Mark decides to go to bed.
As he lays in bed, he thinks about the smooth black letters that lined the inside of his forearm. It was a constant thought in his mind at night, a thought that was filed away throughout the day.
If not for the hundredth time, he wondered what his soulmate's words are, if they are as strange as his are.
He glanced down at his arm, tilting it so he could see the words in the dim light from the moon.
Speed is key is written in block letters that are easy enough to read, but they still managed to confuse him.
He decides that he should leave these thoughts for the morning and drifts off to sleep.