|| Oneshots ||

|| 18-Kunimi A. ||

|| Acorn ||
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(Soulmate AU where your soulmates name appears on your wrist when they turn sixteen and vice versa)
(Soulmate AU where whatever you draw on yourself appears on your soulmate and vice versa)

  "This is ridiculous."

  You start, twisting to see your best friend staring at her wrist with a glare hard enough you worried she'd pop a vein or something.

  "What is?" You ask, sitting back and looking at the emptiness of her rich skin. "Still no name?"

  "Or drawing! This is ridiculous! Is he shy? Should I go first? Oh gods, don't tell me he's younger!" She throws herself down on her desk, head banging on it and you stifle your giggle.

  "Well, at least I'm not the only one!" She lifts her head, poking her tongue at your wrist, you smile, nodding, before stuffing your wrist underneath the desk you sat at.

  "Yeah, that's true." You lie.

  What no one knows, and I mean no one, is that you do have a soulmate, and his name is written in small on your inner wrist.

  Akira Kunimi.

  It appeared a year ago, and to this day you always wear makeup to cover it.

  Why, I hear you ask, do you do that?

  Well, that's because you know the name, know who belongs to the name, and you would honestly cry if the famous first year from Aoba Johsai found out that his soulmate went to Shiratorizawa and got below average grades.

  Now, I hear you ask "but won't he see your name anyway?"

  And the answer to that is yes, he will, but due to you being fifteen, you still have a few months to pack your bags and convince your brother to take you on his trip to a college in America.

  Never gonna happen, though.

  "Hey, if neither of us get soulmates, promise me you'll marry me when we're thirty?" Your friend snaps you from your thoughts, and you smile, nodding.

  "Of course, I promise." You lock pinkies, and she grins up at you from her spot still on her desk.

  One thing you liked about Kunimi, was that he has never written to you—well, written on you would be putting it better. So you haven't had to worry about that...yet, but you always carry makeup on you just in case.

  "Oh hey, are you still staying at mine this weekend?" Your friend asks, sitting up and reaching for her Bento Box.

  "For sure, why would I ditch you?" You joke, stealing one of her apple slices, she bares her teeth at you, only joking as you both start laughing.

  That Friday, you both catch the train to her house, sharing a bunch of dumplings and pork buns she'd stolen her little sister's money for.

  Again, no words appeared on your skin during the day, so you thankfully could continue being a free woman.

  The walk was short, a few streets, a few turns, a short stop at the store where she gets free grab on whatever candy because the store clerk likes her, then finally you flop down on the blow-up mattress her dad had spent half the day pumping up.

  "Get dressed into your PJ's, I'll go make popcorn and get mum's laptop for movies." She grins, throwing her bag onto her bed and making a run for her parents room.

  You do as she says, then pull all her duvet and stuff onto the blow-up mattress, sorting it out because she always ends up sleeping with you when you stay over anyway.

  As you were going through it all, you noticed a dark smudge in the corner of your eyes, and quickly looked down at your wrist to see the makeup on his name was almost completely gone.

  Ah shit!

  You dive for your bag, rifling in it until you find your foundation, and quickly cover the name.

  "Popcorn!" She sings, you jump, spinning to grin up at her as she saunters into the room with a massive bowl of popcorn and her mum's huge ass laptop.

  "Is this heaven?" You sigh, flopping into the mattress as she sets the bowl down on the floor by the bed and flops beside you, the computer safely between you.

  It was about midnight, when she came up with the idea.

  "How about, we both draw something on each other, and see if anyone replies."

  Half asleep and full of coke and popcorn, you grin, accepting the idea as a good one and reaching for her bag where all her glitter pens were.

  "Give me that phat ankle, bitch." She grins, tugging your ankle over to her and snatching one of the orange pens from her case. You shrug, deciding on blue and reaching for her thigh—exposed in her plaid pyjama shorts.

  "I'm drawing...a dick."

  You kick your leg out, groaning, and she falls back as if you'd ultra smashed her guts or something. "Do that and I'll draw the nastiest, hairiest, most shriveled pair of balls right here." You slap the soft inner part of her thigh.

  She bites her lip, raising her eyebrows. "Oh yeah, that's one way to get my soulmates attention."

  "You weren't supposed to like the idea!" You groan, placing the pen to her skin, she laughs, wriggling your ankle before setting it down so she could draw.

  "But please, don't draw a dick."

  "I would never."

  In the end, you drew a cow that did not look like a cow, and she drew a squirrel because she felt like if you had a soulmate, he was always in hibernation or something.

  "Gorgeous." You say, slapping your ankle as she slaps her thigh.

  "You could be the next Leonardo DiCaprio!" She cries, you raise your head at her, confusion clear on your face.

  "The fucking movie star? All because I drew a cow?"

  "No! The painter dude!" She cries, flopping down beside you, you laugh at her, she joins you.

  You lay your head against your arms, both of you feeling the exhaustion of the week saying on you.

  "It's Leonardo Di Vinci, by the way."

  Her snores were your answer.

  The next morning, you were shaken awake, then sworn at, then rolled off the bed.

  "What the fuck—" you sit up, rubbing your head. Your friend swears again, slapping you multiple times, until you finally catch what she's saying.

  Oh, shit.

  You stare at your ankle, and the horribly drawn acorn beside the squirrel.

  Shit shit shit.

  "Girl! What the fuck??" She hits you again, and you brave yourself for more abuse when you rub your wrist free of the makeup and show her the name written there.

  After being tackled, kissed, punched, slapped, and kissed again, you both sit on the mattress and she stuffs her hands between her legs to contain anymore excitement.

  "Tell, me, everything."

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