Ｍｅｌａｎｇｅ

Written Art (Day6)

I feel as though my soulmate is always near. But I have yet to see them.

All I could tell for sure, they are an artist.

Daily I have a new inked drawing spread onto my arms, or on my ankle. I was confused at first about the ankle drawings, it was such an uncommon place to write on. But then I understood, the ankle was for where their most intricate drawings were.

The special ones.

Examples of my ankle drawings has been a hibiscus made of precious stones, a lily, and ivy vines that went around my whole ankle. I never understood how that worked.

I could tell that they always used a pen because the next day it would be gone. I had learned after a week to take a picture before I could be erased. There was a pattern. At seven in the morning the start of a inkling would appear and by the end of the day something beautiful would be in its place. At seven at night the drawing would be smudged as if it were being rubbed off.

Without fail they would give me something new.

My arms were another story. They were just full of doodles of lines, or spirals. Occasionally there was a date, but there was never any significance to it. It's as if they wanted my ankle drawings to be special, something only for us.

On occasion though, there are other marks that show up unfortunately. Aside from ink, bruises and scars will appear.

And when they do, I fear for my soulmate. If they're alright, if something serious happened. But what stops me from asking, is the comfortable silence we hold with each other.

With the drawings they usually appear during class, I find myself to be amused by the strange marks on my arms, but towards the end of my third block the ankle drawing becomes more in depth. I realized a long time ago that I instinctively put my ankle onto my thigh when that little tingle of being drawn on appears.

So today, as I felt that same sensation I happily put my ankle up to rest on my thigh and carefully slid up my pant leg.

Only this time, there wasn't a drawing.

Only words.

Are you alright?

I was confused then I remembered, I had a small bruise on my leg from when I ran smack dab into our wooden coffee table.

I smiled at the concern, then frowned. Why hadn't I ever asked if they were alright?

I felt so conflicted in answering their writing. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

For the rest of the day I disregarded the message written on my ankle. Eventually after an hour, they just decided to draw little symbols on their arms.

During lunch hour they kept insistently drawing on the inside of their left arm, but it felt more like writing.

홀로 남겨진 지금 누군가 필요해

(I'm all alone, I need someone)

My heart broke reading the message, it was a lyric from Day6's I Need Someone. I knew that song like the back of my hand. It was such a melancholy tune. I found myself singing part of the chorus quietly.

"Why am I alone~"

I knew how much that song resonated with my heart, how it felt to sing it out when I was in a tough spot. How much of a connection it held.

So I took a pen a put it to my arm. But they beat me to it.

Why have you never written? Do you hate me for the drawings?

I hated myself for never once giving any sign that I was alive, and acknowledging them, the best I've given them is bruises and marks. And they've given me beautiful art.

I put my pen up once more.

As I am been keeping my silence, I've let everyone go. Now I got to do something.

A small singular dot appeared underneath my response.

Among all the people around me, I'm all alone.

I suppose they were either just into the song lyrics, or they really did feel as though they were alone.

I didn't know how to respond after this, but I couldn't just drop out of the conversation so soon.

Standing up from my table, I grabbed my satchel and swung it over my shoulder with my pen still hovering above my arm. Perhaps something around the campus could inspire me. 

I passed around the cafeteria occasionally glancing around at my fellow schoolmates. None of them took notice of me because I was never one for friends. 

Through all of the crowds of tables in the dining area, navigation was tedious when trying not to disturb anyone. For a few moments I sauntered through the maze, casting my gaze around the tables.

Once again I felt a tip of a pen being dotted across my skin, but as a looked down someone caught my eye.

They were hunched over at a table, with a pen in hand pressed to their arm. His dark hair was swept the the side of his face obscuring his features. At his side was a guitar case.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I cautiously made my way over to his table without bringing attention. At the same time, I kept my eyes to my arm as if another message were to appear.

The closer I got, I could see the ink marks of a felt tipped pen. The student bit the edge of his pen for a second, deep in thought. And I was able to see what was written.

It was the exact same.

Words were in their place, the faint look of the lyrics resounded against his skin.

Only then did I take a seat across from them. They dropped the pen in shock and turned their arm towards the table.

"Ah, he-hello," he stammered.

"Miriann Lee." I held out my hand in greeting, using the inked arm.

He lifted the one from his guitar case and shook my hand. For a moment he stared at the ink across my arm.

"You-"

"Were we looking at each other in a dream?" I ask, nearly singing out the line.

He smiles for a second and looks down at his own inked arm.

"Brian Kang."

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him sideways.

"That's my name," he prompted.

I nodded, "So Brian, how about we get to knowing each other."

"I'd like that, because isn't that what you do when you love someone?"

"Of course."