Chapter Text
Ah, summer. A season of fun and relaxation. The relentless sun would beat down on the cement sidewalks and sandy beaches, making them near impossible to tread on with bare feet. A season where an ice cream cone could melt away all of one’s worries. Hunter absolutely despised it. Summer was not his season. It was hot and he got all sweaty and sunburnt and he had nothing to do.
He had no work to do.
In theory, he could get a job. But given his… not lack of abilities, but rather disabilities, it had proven quite difficult to find one that would be accessible to him.
“Don’t be a coward,” his uncle would have said at a time like this. “Push through. And if you can’t do it, you aren’t worth anyone’s time.”
Maybe in a more eloquent way than that, but the message would still come across.
But his foster dad tried to be encouraging. “You aren’t looking for someone to work for,” Darius would say, “you want to find a job that works for you.”
To be fair, it sounded a bit like backwards bullshit, but Hunter was doing a new thing where he tried to appreciate people looking out for him, instead of “undermining their efforts”, as his therapist would say.
Hunter sat up from his spot on his desk chair and wandered over to his bed, plopping down, limbs spread out. The previously untouched sheets provided momentary relief from the unforgiving heat. All his electric fan would do was push the hot air in different directions around his room. All of that said, he was just grateful it wasn’t humid.
As Hunter shuddered at the mere thought of humidity, he felt a tickle on his forearm. Reaching a hand over to scratch it, he glanced at his arm. Ah, a message. He looked back up at the ceiling, before his eyes widened.
Wait, a message?
Hunter shot up in his place on the bed, looking down at his arm again. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. But no, it read clear as day in the ink of someone’s green marker:
guess who just turned 18? ;P
Hunter knew that soulmates were real. It was the stuff of fiction, sure, but they were a fact of life. Anyone 18 or over could write something on their body and it would appear on someone else’s in the same place. He wasn’t sure why, but he never in a million years would have considered this scenario.
He thought it would somehow never happen to him.
It shouldn’t have ever happened to him.
Clutching his arm against his chest, Hunter stood and approached his door. He cracked it open, peeking out into the hallway. All clear. He ran across the floor towards the bathroom and swung the door shut. Shoving his arm under the faucet and pumping way too much hand soap into his palm, Hunter turned on the water and viciously scrubbed the ink off. It was still fresh, so it smudged easily. He kept rubbing at it until the green had almost completely disappeared. He sighed with relief, picking up a hand towel to dry off his forearm.
Strolling back to his room, Hunter got back to work doing what he was meant to be doing for the past 10 minutes: job finding. He sat at his desk and typed away at his laptop, updating his resume with all the extracurriculars he’d done in high school. As he worked on the resume, he felt another itch on his right arm. Reaching to scratch it, he paused his typing for a moment. Just as he was about to resume, it itched again. Hunter looked down in annoyance, wondering if he’d gotten a mosquito bite, only to see something worse.
my message disappeared, did it just wash off??
Hunter rubbed at the fresh ink, successfully smearing it. He felt another tickle as, this time, he watched the words appear before him, as though an invisible hand with an invisible marker were writing on his skin.
i know you’re there, soulmate!
Nope.
No, no, absolutely not. Hunter was not dealing with this right now.
Quickly standing and approaching his closet, Hunter threw off his yellow t-shirt. It clashed with his pale blond hair anyways. Not that he knew anything about color theory or whatever. Momentarily staring into his reflection—blond hair, tired eyes, chest binder as pale as his skin—he slid open his closet door and grabbed a green long-sleeved shirt off the rack. As he slipped it on, he immediately began to sweat. That’s what two years of hormone therapy gets me, I guess. Hunter felt more itching on his arm, a little higher up this time. He ignored it.
“Hunter!” A voice shouted from downstairs. “Lunch!”
Anxious for anything else to think about, Hunter rushed downstairs, feet thumping with each step on the stairs.
Darius came into view, setting a plate onto the table in the kitchen.
“Well, someone’s excited for ham sandwiches,” Darius said. “I thought you didn’t like cheese. Oh, shit—I mean, shoot. You don’t. Should I remake your sandwich?”
“I’m lactose intolerant, and it’s fine.” Hunter took a seat at the table where the plate was set up in front of him. “I still eat dairy. Didn’t you get me a fresh pack of Intol-Aid yesterday?”
Darius rolled his eyes. “I’m not in charge of keeping track of your medical things and such.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “You’re meant to be my guardian, but sure.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
“So…” Darius stirred a cup of what smelled like fresh brewed coffee, which seemed irresponsible given it was around 1pm. “How’s the job-finding going?”
Hunter’s chewing slowed. “Fine, I guess. I mean, I haven’t really found anything yet, but I’m working on my resume, so…” He swallowed and took another bite.
“A shame. Any place would be lucky to have you. So hurry up before they fill up all their spots.” Darius took a sip of the coffee. “Say, what’s with that shirt? It’s sweltering out, and gods know you sweat like it’s nobody’s business.”
Hunter felt his arm itch, and his face tinged pink. He swallowed his bite, standing from his chair. “Actually, can you pack this up for me? I just remembered I’m meeting Luz at the Owl House today.”
“Sure, sure—”
“Thanks!” Hunter sped off to get ready, leaving Darius to sigh to himself. Grabbing a plastic zip-lock bag, a Rammerware container, and a couple of snacks for Hunter to feast on later, Darius packed him a sufficient lunch. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t go spending his allowance—soon to be null and void—on eating out somewhere.
“I’m ready.” Hunter re-entered the kitchen, shoes on and messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He picked up the container Darius left on the table for him. “Thanks. I’ll text you when I’m back, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Darius watched as Hunter went towards the front door, taking out his keys as he approached it.
“Oh, and one more thing!” Darius shouted from across the room. “When you get back, make sure to double check all the information on your application! We don’t want a—”
“Another residency incident, I know, I know, I’ll be back, bye!”
With that, Hunter shut the door, locked it, and started on his walk to the bus stop.
“Please, Eda, please!”
“No.”
“Please please pleeeeaaaaase.” Luz wrapped her arms around Eda’s waist, letting her body drag on the floor as the poor older woman tried to walk around despite the weight attaching itself to her.
“Come on, Eda,” Amity said, leaning against the counter. “She’s begging. You’ve reduced her to begging.”
“Trust me, it doesn’t take a lot to get her to beg.”
“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE—”
“Alright, fine! Jeez, kid, relax. You’ll give yourself early grays like that.”
“Yesss!” Luz pumped her first in the air, doing the excited stimmy-steps she often did. “What are you gonna write to Raine? That you love them? You miss them? You adore them most in all the world??”
Eda picked up a Pointie marker from the cup on the counter next to the register, and began writing. When she was done, she set down the marker with a clack. “There. Happy, kid?”
“What did you WRITE!” Luz sped around Eda, grabbing the arm she’d written on and began reading aloud. “‘Hey babe I left the cream cheese on the counter can you please put it back ‘kay thanks.’” Luz visibly deflated as she read the unromantic, uninspiring message.
“Very romantic of you, Eda,” Amity said.
“Hey, you two didn’t tell me what to write,” Eda responded, a wry smile on her face.
“They wrote something back!” Luz said a little too loudly. She began reading aloud. “They said ‘I will, love’!” Luz squealed, then giggled. “They called you looooove,” she sang.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now you two get back to work,” Eda said. “I don’t pay you to hang out and obsess over soulmates.”
“You don’t pay me,” Amity said.
“Point stands.”
Just then, the bell above the door rang as a perceived customer entered the shop.
Luz opened her arms. “Welcome to the Owl Hou—Oh!”
“Hi, Hunter,” Amity greeted.
“Hey,” Hunter said, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “You’re not too busy, are you guys? I was wondering if I could hang out here for a while.”
Luz and Amity looked toward Eda, who shrugged. “Haven’t had anyone in about an hour. Hang out all you want. But if a customer comes in, make yourselves look busy. We have an image to uphold.”
“Since when do you care about image?” Luz asked.
“Since people started calling me Eda the Owl Lady,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
Hunter couldn’t help but smile. People like his uncle would call Eda an utter mess, but she was put together in her own way. She possessed a level of confidence Hunter could only aspire to achieve. He hoped more reasonable adults saw that in her.
Well, I’m 18. I guess it’s “other adults” now, not just “adults”.
The pawn shop sported hundreds and hundreds of little trinkets stocking its shelves. Jewelry, memorabilia, merchandise of various types—you name it, the Owl House had it. And the store’s name was perfectly appropriate as well—decorating the Owl House were several owl-themed bits and bobs. Figurines and statues, framed posters, tapestries, and most notably, an owl-shaped carved piece of wood hanging above the entrance, on both the inside and outside. It was the place’s mascot, called “Hooty”. Hunter didn’t know who came up with that name, or what Eda’s thing with owls was. He never bothered with asking.
“Man, I can’t wait til I’m 18,” Luz said, leaning over the counter as Eda went off towards the back. “Then we’ll finally be confirmed.”
“Confirmed what?” Hunter took his lunch out of his bag, cracked open the container, and took a bite of his unfinished sandwich.
“Soulmates! Me and Amity!” Luz held her girlfriend’s hand, and Amity smiled back at her. “I know we’re soulmates. We have to be.”
As much as Hunter liked Luz and Amity—hell, they were his main friends throughout high school—he wasn’t sure he believed in that. Sure, Luz and Amity made a fantastic team and a cute couple, and they’d been together for almost two years, but meeting your soulmate at 14? It just seemed unlikely to Hunter. Even if they did make a great match. He didn’t want to spoil their fun, though, even if he did just want to be realistic, so he changed the topic.
“Trust me, you don’t wanna be 18,” Hunter chuckled.
“What’s that mean?” Luz said, raising an eyebrow. “Being 18 must be awesome. You’re, like, an adult. Nobody can tell you what to do.”
“The law sure can,” Hunter said. “And the law wants me to pay taxes. So as long as I end up working a job, I’m gonna be doing what the law says.”
“Speaking of,” Amity interjected, “How’s that going? Finding a job.”
“Not great,” Hunter said. Eda re-entered the room with a fresh cup of coffee. Ah, so she was in the break room. “I haven’t been able to find anything I can actually do. Surprise surprise, it’s mostly customer service stuff. And I wouldn’t be caught dead working at an Arnold’s Jr or a Bendy’s, or a McRonald’s or something like that.”
“What’s wrong with customer service?” Eda asked, leaning on the side of the counter Luz was on.
“I just can’t do it. Dealing with people I don’t know all day, cooperating with shitty customers—I just can’t. It’s not for me.”
“Well, work here, then,” Eda said.
Hunter paused. He felt a tickle on his arm, and it brought him back to reality. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“But wouldn’t I still have to do customer service?”
“Eh,” Eda shrugged. “Luz or someone’ll work the register, and you can stock shelves and clean up and stuff. And if a customer tries to talk to you, just pass it off to someone else. You can wear headphones so they don’t bother you, too.”
“Wait, really?” A crooked smile began to make its way onto Hunter’s face.
“Really.” Eda raised an eyebrow. “What, is it hard to believe? We’re actually really under-staffed right now, so it’d help a ton.”
“No, I just—thank you! So much, I mean,” Hunter said. “I didn’t think I’d be able to find something decent.”
“And you said being 18 was hard,” Luz said. “Look how fast we both found jobs!”
Hunter rolled his eyes, but still held a smile on his face.
“You start Monday,” Eda said. “You’ll get your first paycheck in two weeks time. And, uh…” She tapped her long nails on the wooden countertop. “Don’t get into any fights and we’ll get along just fine. If you drop anything it’ll just come out of your paycheck.”
Hunter chuckled.
“I’m not joking.”
“Oh.”
Hunter stepped out of the car, pulling his suitcase alongside him and setting it so the wheels stood on the sidewalk. He looked up at the building front of him. The student accommodations. This is where he would be living for his freshman year at IU—Isles University.
“Hunter?”
He looked beside him to see Darius carrying his other bags.
“You awake? Let’s hurry and head upstairs, whatever you’ve got in here is killing my shoulders.” Darius rustled Hunter’s backpack and other suitcase around. “What room is it again?”
Hunter thought for a moment. “204,” he said.
“Hmm…” Darius looked forward, squinting. Shuffling Hunter’s bags in his arms, he started walking forward towards the doors. “Alright, let’s go.”
“Oh, um, okay.” Hunter extracted the handle to his suitcase and rolled it up the cement slope leading towards the doors to the building. Once they stepped inside, they were greeted with a brush of fresh, cool, conditioned air. The lobby appeared to be somewhat of a common area; furnished with sofas and armchairs and coffee tables and vending machines, it seemed like a decent place to come and study, or hang out with friends. Hunter doubted he would be going there much, though—he wouldn’t like how many people passed through there.
They made their way to the elevator and went through the process of going up to the second floor. As they exited, Hunter looked around the long, empty hallway. Well, almost empty. He could see someone’s bags outside of a dorm’s door. That must’ve been someone else’s room.
Stepping to the right, Hunter and Darius made their way through the hallway. Hunter watched the numbers on the doors go by. 201… 202… 203… Ah. 204. Hunter dug through his pocket in search of his keys.
“You got it?” Darius asked.
“Yep,” Hunter said. He eventually fished out the keys and shuffled through them before he spotted the one meant for his dorm—the key with the yellow cover on it.
Unlocking his door, he stepped inside.
It was… modest, to put it gently. Definitely smaller than his bedroom back at home. It reminded him of a hotel room. It probably was a hotel room, at one point. It had a kitchenette and a bathroom by the entrance. Then, further in, there was a living area that was extremely small; just composed of one armchair and a tiny excuse for a coffee table. In the very back of the room was a single XL-twin bed and a pretty big desk.
“So?” Darius asked. “What do you think?”
Hunter let go of his suitcase, and turned around. It wasn’t often that he grinned. Smiled, sure. He’d done that a great deal more since he got away from his uncle. But grinning? That was a rare sight to see of him. Yet here he stood now, grinning from ear to ear, barely able to contain his excitement.
“It’s great. It’s… really great.”
He tried his best to contain himself. A part of him wanted to squeal and run around the room and plop on the bed as though he were a child on vacation. Surely, he got that urge from spending too much time with Luz. He just couldn’t believe it. Once upon a time, he thought he lived to serve his uncle. Five years ago, he would never dream of having a life of his own. And yet now, here he was. Moving into his very own dorm room. At a university?! That was kind of insane to him.
“Welp.” Darius shuffled past him, heading further into the room. “Let’s get you situated. Need any help unpacking?”
Hunter closed the door behind him, dragging his suitcase into the center of the room. He set it next to the armchair. “No, I can take care of it.”
“You sure? I mean, to tell the truth, I was just offering to be nice,” Darius said. “If you don’t need me here, there’s actually a Paint & Sip I said no to so I could help you, but I really would like to attend. But,” he sighed, “if you need me here, that’s perfectly fine.”
Hunter smiled. “It’s fine. You can go to your wine thing.”
Darius gave him a side-hug. “Thank you dearly. Have fun unpacking. And text me if you forgot anything!”
With that, Darius left, leaving Hunter alone in his new room. He unzipped his suitcase and opened one of the drawers of the dresser by his bed, and began unpacking properly.
It was about a week and a half before classes at this point. To Hunter’s knowledge, most students got to move in to their dorms a couple days before classes began. But since Hunter got special accommodations, he got… well, special accommodations. He got his own room, for one. He definitely couldn’t handle living with anyone else—at least, not sharing a room with them. He was thankful he got his own bathroom as well. He’d seriously reconsider this whole “college” thing if he had to share something so private.
And secondly, he got to move in before everyone else as well. “More time to adjust to the living space,” the person who granted his accommodations said. He supposed he was grateful for that—it wouldn’t be fun to get used to living somewhat-on his own and a new arrangement for taking classes all at the same time.
It was around halfway through his unpacking when he noticed something was… off. Hunter wasn’t sure what it was, but he could sense it. Something important was missing. He scanned his new room, sorting through a mental checklist of everything he needed. Clothes, check. School supplies, check. Personals, check. Hygiene, check. Wait a minute. School supplies… That was it!
Hunter turned to his desk, grabbing his phone off the top of it and opening up the Messages app. He shot a quick text to Darius, saying his laptop was probably left in the car, and set it down. He resumed his unpacking as he awaited a response.
Soon enough, all the unpacking was complete. His clothes were folded up in his drawers, his textbooks and school supplies were arranged on his desk, his books for reading for fun were set up on a small shelf the room had to offer, and everything else was in its proper place. He checked his phone to see if Darius had responded, only to find nothing. Upon closer inspection, he realized the problem—the message hadn’t sent at all. When he saw that, he realized there was very poor service in his room. So that’s the downside, he thought. Sighing to himself, he pondered what to do. Well, maybe getting the WiFi would help. He checked the list of available WiFi networks. There was one for the Vitimir building—the one he was in—but it appeared to be locked behind a password. Hunter took a moment to think. How could he get the password? Surely, they had it available down in the lobby somewhere. Maybe it was on a poster or something.
Hunter left his room (making sure to lock it on his way out) and took the elevator down to the ground floor’s common area. Once down there, he looked around the lobby in search of some kind of poster or sign saying “here’s the WiFi password”. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the sort to be seen. But there was a front desk. As Hunter approached it, though, he found that there was nobody behind it.
“Uh… hm.” Hunter bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t text Darius for help, because there was still no service downstairs. He supposed he could go outside and find a spot with good service, but this particular dorm building wasn’t on campus—it was close to campus. Hunter would have to walk the streets of the Isles in order to find a spot with decent service, and he didn’t feel comfortable doing that himself yet. He almost laughed at himself. Since when was he scared to walk outside? He was a few steps short of a child soldier, a few years ago, and now he was scared of what? Some sunlight? A few people maybe?
“Hey.”
What an idiot. You can’t even figure out something this simple.
“Excuse me.”
How can you be this stupid?!
“Hey!”
Hunter was brought out of his thoughts when someone grabbed his shoulder and shook it. Reflexively, Hunter smacked the hand away, raising his hands in defense and ready to fight.
The green-haired girl in front of him put her hands up. “Woah, hey,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked a little freaked out, man. You okay?”
“I’m—I’m fine.” Hunter brushed off his shoulder, as if her hand had dirt or mud on it. It clearly did not. “You just startled me. Sorry, did you need something?”
“Uh.” The girl looked back at her friends, and they giggled. She looked back at him. “I was actually about to ask you that. You look like you need help, but there’s nobody here. Maybe I can try to help?” The girl shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Oh. Um…” Hunter looked down at his phone. “I need the WiFi password, but I can’t find it anywhere.”
The green-haired girl smiled. She had a mole on her cheek, next to her left eye. “I have that! I’ll give it to you, just a sec.”
Hunter watched as the girl pulled out her phone. In comparison to his simplistic red-and-black phone case, hers was shimmery and pink, with glitter and water inside it that moved when she angled her phone different ways. She had a matching white Plop-Socket. His own was a simple black one.
Soon enough, she turned her phone screen towards him, so he could see the password. “There. Not very creative, is it?”
“Yeah. I mean, no, it’s not.” Hunter turned on his phone, looking between the two devices as he plucked the password into the little text box. She had one of those fancy, expensive yPhones that came out with a new one every year and was more expensive than the last for no good reason, only to intentionally break after a year or two of use. Hunter had a more practical Roboid.
She must be rich.
Hunter shook the thought from his head. His therapist told him how he had a tendency to over-analyze people and decipher what he could gain from knowing them. He just caught himself in the act. He didn’t wanna believe they were telling the truth, but it was undeniable now…
“Got it,” he said, checking his texts. The message to Darius had just sent. “It’s working now. Thanks.”
“No problem,” the girl said. Tucking her phone away, she held out her hand. “Name’s Emira. Blight. Just call me Emira, or Em, or whatever. I don’t really care.”
“Uh,” Hunter hesitantly shook her hand. “Hunter.”
“Cool. See you ‘round, Hunter.”
“Um, yeah. See you.”
Hunter watched as Emira walked back to her friends, long braid trailing behind her. Together, they lounged on the couches in the lobby. Huh. He wondered what brought them to the dorms so early.
After that interaction, Hunter didn’t meet many more people.
The days turned into weeks, and suddenly, classes were beginning. Hunter had four to attend: English, Intro to Engineering, Physical Geology, and Psychology. There were tons of on-campus events; festivals, freshman dinners, club rush—Hunter didn’t attend any of them. They were a waste of time, in his eyes. Of course, he meant no offense to the people who enjoyed those things; they just didn’t seem beneficial to him. He would soon come to regret his thoughts.
About a month and a half into the semester, Hunter was walking to his dorm. He took the familiar road from the Social Sciences building to the Vitimir dormitory building. He entered the building’s lobby to find a surprising sight.
The common area was filled to the brim with people, having some sort of gathering. Hunter sighed with annoyance. It must be some campus event, he thought. Squeezing past the people in the crowd, Hunter made his way over to the elevator. As he stepped inside, a group of college kids hurriedly made their way in after him. They laughed breathily as they just barely all made it into the elevator before the doors closed.
“Do you think they saw us?” one said.
Hunter shuffled into the back corner of the elevator.
“No way,” another one said.
“I hope they did,” a third person added.
“Why do you always wanna get us in trouble?” the first one asked.
“I don’t care,” the third one answered. “They can shove their stupid rules up their—”
Ding!
The elevator stopped as it landed on the second floor. The group of four students Hunter didn’t know, having pushed the 3 button, all stepped to the side to let Hunter through. He awkwardly shuffled out of the elevator, hearing them giggle and laugh to themselves as the doors closed and the elevator brought them up to their own floor.
Hunter trudged through the hallway. 201, 202, 203… ah, 204. He pulled his keys out of his pockets and grabbed the one with the yellow cover, sticking it into the keyhole and twisting until he heard a “click”. Hunter pushed his door open, dropped his backpack on the floor, and shut the door behind him.
Taking off his shirt, he got prepared to take a shower.
It was early October by this point. Autumn was in full swing. Leaves were falling and turning warm colors. People were putting pumpkins on their porches and ordering pumpkin spice lattes at Sunbucks. Breezes were gentle and crisp. It would rain every now and then, more often as time went on. Days were cloudy. Nights were cold. He wore long sleeves.
Hunter stared at the shower wall as the loud shushing of the shower water filled the room. He was doing well in school, so far. When he checked his grades on the school’s student portal, Portrait, he had a 95% or higher for all classes. And he was a full-time student. By the standard of most, that would be outstanding. But it wasn’t good enough. He was a 98% student, at worst.
That must’ve been why he felt like shit, right?
He thought back to the students in the elevator. Laughing together.
Together, huh?
Hunter shut off the shower water.
Stepping onto the mat outside the bathtub, he dried off his hair, then his face, then his body. He put on his clothes one piece at a time. The final piece, his shirt, in his hands, he stared into his reflection in the mirror.
He felt a tickle on his right forearm. As he reached to scratch it, he looked at his arm in the mirror. Words.
In purple ink.
Hunter pulled on his long-sleeved shirt and stepped out of the bathroom.
He spent the night pouring himself into his work. He would get that extra 3% of he tried hard enough, he was sure of it. It was something about his English teacher. In high school, classes were ridiculously easy— especially English. He spoke the damn language, it wasn’t a problem. But the standards in college were different than in high school. And as much as he appreciated the challenge, the method to acing his English class eluded him. “To get an A,” his professor would say, “you need to be extraordinary. You must express utterly unique ideas and points of view in your writing.” He had utterly unique ideas and point of view. He was his own person, dammit! So what was the problem? What was keeping him away from that 98—no, 99%? What was the trick?
Hunter had an essay revision with its due date coming up for that class. If he could just ace the revision, and improve his draft by 10%, he would be doing perfectly. He spent hours pouring over the essay, changing every little bit and piece of it that he could. It was a research essay on urban economic segregation. He utilized every viable resource he could find—the school’s online library, Wikisearchia, even random potentially-sketchy-but-maybe-trustworthy sources he found with his own Doogle searches. He scrapped up every piece of information he could possibly find to offer the essay. He only stopped when he came to a realization: first, it was about 9pm, and he got home at 5. Secondly, he was starving.
Cracking open his mini-fridge (gifted to him by Eda—for which he was very grateful), Hunter pulled out a pre-packaged sandwich he’d gotten from the university bookstore. Tearing the package open, Hunter squeezed the mayonnaise onto the cut-in-half sandwiches, picked one out, and took a bite.
There he sat in his room. Outside, cars drove by. He could see them out of the little window in front of his desk. People walked down the sidewalk across the road.
He looked around his room. To think he’d been so excited when he first arrived and now, it seemed so… What was it?
Empty.
Oh.
Finishing off his sandwich, and hunger temporarily satiated, Hunter felt a tickle on his arm. He rolled up his sleeve.
you there, soulmate?
That’s what the first message said. More was being added to it.
i realized, maybe it wasnt working since you werent 18 yet? maybe? idk.
The writing didn’t stop.
can you see this?
Hunter looked at the piles of books and papers and his laptop in front of him. He looked out the window.
The stars were beautiful that night.
He picked up a black fine-pointed marker.
I’m here.