Work Text:
Some people say soulmates are the greatest gift the universe could give someone, many people disagree saying it's a curse to be connected to someone you may never meet.
But regardless, their opinions do not change the fact that every person in this universe or at least on planet earth is given a potential perfect match, given the ability to communicate with such a person with a simple pen and their arm. Some people swoon over their soulmates and their words, feeling the connection between them so strongly, it's almost like they are on a high. The euphoria they feel to be talking with someone who could love them makes them crazy and addicted to the feeling.
Keith never felt like that towards his soulmate. He was standoffish, he rarely talked to them, when he did it was because he got annoyed with how many questions they asked him. Questions like how are you, did you have a good day, what's your favorite this or that normal small talk that Keith wasn't fond of. When he replied to the questions it was short but hardly sweet, he wrote his words quickly so their connection wouldn't fully open letting the stranger on the other side of the words feel his every emotion.
Eventually his soulmate stopped asking him questions, stopped writing goofy pick up lines on the edge of his palm, stopped writing shopping lists that contained a few to many sweets on the inside of his arm. At first he didn't care, he was glad he no longer had faded black pen ink on his skin, he was happy he could finally wear short sleeves without feeling self conscious of the words scrolled across his limbs. But after a while he started to feel his heart squeeze when he no longer felt a ghost of a pen swiping across his flesh, when he didn't wake up to another shity pick up line.
He felt alone for once in his sad pathetic life. He never felt like this before so used to the contact he and his soulmate shared. Though one sided it was comforting to know he wasn't alone on this hellish planet.
So before he realized what he was doing, before he actually thought about what his was doing he impulsively grabbed his paint and pulled if his shirt in front of the mirror, letting himself use his body as a canvas, painting soft shapes over his chest gently, the white and gray paint setting over his ribs carefully. He had painted like this before over the years he had his connection so it wasn't out of the blue that he would start painting, but he's never painted with so much emotion and thought, But He still continued to paint while his soul connection opened letting his feelings of emptiness and loneliness fall through the connection.
He let his soulmate feel what he felt and in return felt the relief and sadness his soulmate felt.
When he was finished he admired his work, a perfect replica of a ribcage painted over his skin, only a few smudges and rough patches over the collarbone and sternum.
After a few minutes of silence he felt a ghost of a pen over his wrist and a small message of "I'm glad your back" slowly appeared, a small smile drawn on shortly after.