00:00:00
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 muse’s reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.
@wanderingrogues
It had always seemed like a joke, that he lived at such a fast pace(running- always running), but his marker never seemed to move. While numbers went in hours and seconds for some people, his seemed to move at a pace of weeks– moving so slowly that he tried to ignore it when the clock ticked down another day.
A week.
A month.
Once, it didn’t seem to move at all for a year, like it was confused over what it was supposed to be saying.
It was easier just to ignore the little string of numbers on his wrist, to keep it covered with a watch or a band as he taught classes- So he didn’t notice when the digits began rolling down to a matter of hours.
Minutes--
Seconds.
He’d accidentally bumped into the taller man when he was walking past the little bakery-- nearly knocking a cake box out of the man’s hands and rushing to catch it all.It had led to laughter and his helping him back inside to check on the cake(ultimately ruined-- but delicious) and hanging around to talk and laugh as another one was made.
Really, he didn’t even notice his marker had come to zero until he’d already left, Connor’s number and half of a damaged cake going home with him, along with plans for coffee the next day.
It was funny, really--He was pretty sure he’d already figured it out, without having to look at his wrist.
