IN A UNIVERSE WHERE EVERYONE IS BORN WITH NUMBERS ON THEIR WRISTS COUNTING DOWN TO WHEN THEY’LL MEET THEIR SOULMATE, SEND ME 00:00:00 FOR MY MUSES REACTION TO THEIR NUMBERS HITTING ZERO WHEN THEY MEET YOURS.
the guitar strums quietly as hesits in the bunker, humming asoft tune to himself as notesflow from his fingertips and puncture the cold silencethat surrounds him.
ever since he became a jaegerpilot, music is the one thing c-onnecting him to home, theplace he fights for. still, he hasn't made any progress si-nce he left home, so at leastthat hasn't changed.
a light knock on the door, andnewt sits up immediately. thesergeant thinks he's found theperfect co-pilot for newt. jeez,newt hopes not; the single li-fe really is all it's cracked up tobe. still, it's going to be sort ofnice meeting the person who'sgoing to know all of his thou-ghts on an almost weekly basis. whoopdeedoo.
"come in," newt calls, andlooks up from his guitar asthe door opens. his wristjolts, but he barely evennotices. "hi. newt."