60 Minutes // (Lashton)

T W O

“Giving someone a piece of your soul is better than giving a piece of your heart. Because souls are eternal.”
– Helen Boswell

♡

"Why is your countdown still running?"

I'm expecting some sort of huge, dramatic reaction from him, but instead, he just shrugs.

"Your mother and I love each other, that's the only thing that matters."

With that, he leaves the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. So, I sigh and stand up from my bed. I latch the door gently, frowning at the answer I was given. Sure, my parents love each other, but doesn't that mean that they aren't soulmates?

I could understand marrying someone you love, but when you have a countdown on your wrist that tells you when you meet your literal soulmate, why wouldn't you wait until then? Plus, wouldn't it bother Mom that her husband is going to meet his soulmate soon?

I sit back down on my bed and resume my homework. I know that if I was in their situation, I'd be bothered. But, I guess, I'm not, and it's their decision, or whatever.

I finish with my geometry quickly (I had completed most of it in study hall) and put it away, grinning as I realize that I have finished everything. I leave my bedroom and head back downstairs, planning on asking my mom if I can go to Michael's house.

Michael is my best friend. We've been through nearly everything together, ever since we first met in first grade. He was the smartest kid in my class (because he had been held back a year and knew most of the concepts) and took 7-year-old me under his wing. I even had a little crush on him at one point.

But, we're not soulmates. His countdown still has over forty years left on it, which he complains about to me, sometimes.

I guess I'm just super lucky.

"Hey, Mom...?" I start, entering the kitchen. She's cooking what appears to be chicken in a pan on the stove. "Can I go over to Michael's?" She turns around to look at me, and before she can ask, I add, "I finished my work."

"What about dinner?" She asks, gesturing to the pan. I shrug.

"I'll eat it later." I say, and she makes a face, but nods. I don't think she likes me going over to Michael's house so often, but oh well.

"Thanks," I quickly hug her, and she hums a response. I go to the living room to find Jack sitting on the couch, staring down at his phone.

"Jack, can I take your car?" He doesn't look up at me, he just shakes his head.

"Nope," He says, and I groan.

"Why not?" I whine, crossing my arms. He's such an asshole.

"Luke, take your bike. I bought you that for a reason." Dad says from his recliner, and I pull my lips into a thin line.

"It's still raining," I protest, pointing out the window to prove my point. "Do you really want me biking on the wet road, with the rain in my eyes? Dad, I could crash. Or get run over."

"You won't get run over," Dad rolls his eyes. "Just take the damn bike, it's hardly even sprinkling."

I decide that arguing isn't even worth it anymore, and stomp past the two of them (real mature of me, I know). Making sure my phone is in my pocket before I leave, I open the front door and step outside. At least Dad was right about the rain-- it was so light it wasn't noticeable anymore.