Chapter Text
Lance had always been a particular child. Even when he was young he had a knack for keeping his person clean- “I always take a bath at seven o’clock after dinner! Everyday!”
Yet he was the first kid to offer to get his hands dirty in an situation.
His room was usually an odd mixture of neat and haphazard. An almost calculated lived-in look. If you took a moment, it wasn’t hard to figure out the method to the madness; which messes were prioritized over others.
Cans and food were always promptly thrown away or recycled. Homework was always dutifully put away in his bag when he wasn’t working on it. Dirty laundry was mostly confined to the corner of his room where his hamper sat- save a few sweaters draped here and there and the pants Lance kicked off before going to bed. The hamper was emptied at the end of every week so it was rarely overflowing. Lance could never survive without a full selection of clothing at all times.
But pens? Markers? Highlighters? They were everywhere. A sharpie, shoved into the pillowcase of at least two of his many pillows at all times; a half opened pack of multi-coloured pens spilled over the surface of his desk. A jar of india ink and a ridiculous Harry Potter quill were stowed neatly on his nightstand next to a stack of practice cards for calligraphy. Anything he could use to write or doodle on himself was made readily available. After all, who knew when he would get a sudden brilliant spark, or just feel the need to converse with his soulmate?
Not that they ever answered.
Despite numerous failed attempts, Lance had been infatuated with the idea of communicating with his soulmate since the day he’d found out they existed.
As he grew up, he became more apt to keeping a pen on him at all times, just in case. It soon got to the point where people would joke that he seemed to hoard writing utensils like a dragon hoards treasure.
Once when he was 8, his mother had woken him early on a summer morning to accompany her on her errands. His father had taken his two brothers, Isaac and Angel on a fishing trip and his sister Ana was spending the weekend with her friend. Lance’s Papa had offered to take him fishing with his brothers but he’d opted to stay home to help his Mama.
Although Lance had grumbled half-heartedly about his lost sleep, he had always loved spending time with his mother and savoured any moment she could give him her sole attention, unbroken by the distractions of everyday life with the rest of the family.
It did not, however, stop him from freaking out hours later when it dawned on him that he had forgotten to grab a marker on his way out the door. This was around the time he had made it a habit of carrying a writing utensil everywhere he went and the very same week he’d decided he needed to write a greeting on his arm every morning.
He’d been riding in the backseat, chattering excitedly to his mother about anything that came to mind when he’d looked down at his arm and gasped. The car stayed steady but his mother had called out to him in a worried voice, “What? What is it honey?”
“I forgot to say good morning to my soulmate!” he replied, scandalized.
With a sigh, his mother had told him to wait it out- and he had! All the while bouncing nervously in his seat and flipping the lock on his door (“Lance Castillo-Mcclain if you do not cut that out right now-That is dangerous.”)
When they finally pulled into the Walmart parking lot, his mama had had to keep a tight hold on his hand to keep him from sprinting in the way of cars in order to get to the entrance. Inside the store he wandered in circles and worried at the faded words on his arm from the days prior. His mother had asked him to at least wash it away during his bath every night but he’d left faint marks and claimed he tried his best to scrub it away. He'd felt very sentimental about the letters scrawled across his arm, even if he had yet to be granted a response. Now, he tapped his fingers on every messy capital letter and shuffled around so much his mother had gotten fed up and firmly scolded him for nearly running into several people over the course of five minutes.
He had long outgrown the child-seat of the cart, but tired and dramatic as ever he had pleaded to lay in the belly of it in an effort to compromise. While his mama strolled through the aisles of Walmart, Lance in tow, his eye caught on the arts ‘n’ crafts section. He suddenly sat bolt upright and whipped around to make eye contact with his mother, disturbing the balance of the cart.
“Mama! There’s pens over there. I forgot my pen! I need a new one! Mama, I didn’t say good morning to my soulmate! Please can we buy me a new pen?” he’d gasped in his most despairing tone.
His Mama was having none of it. “They can wait until we get home, Lance. It’s just this once. Besides, what did I say about writing on yourself so much?”
Lance sighed. “I could get ink poisoning and die. But moooom. I’ll die if I don’t say good morning to them! I’m a horrible soulmate! They need to know I love them! If I don’t tell them, how will they know?” His eyes were wide with panic.
“Honey…” her eyes had gone soft for a second, but she didn’t waver, “Lance, you will not die if you wait another hour to say good morning and-”
“-But then it won’t even be morning! Mom. Mama. Pleeeaaasseee? Since we can’t go home right now can I get a new pen? Please ?”
“Lance-”
“ Please mama. ”
She’d sighed in defeat and relented, “Okay, okay . Which do you want then?”
She’d brought him through the arts and crafts aisle and he’d stood up in the cart leaning forward to look at his options- an action that ended with him being scolded. He’d hopped down to the floor and frantically pointed to a tube of cobalt blue paint.
“That one! I have to make it up to them somehow! I want that shade of blue ‘cos it’s the prettiest!”
And that’s when his mother explained that in order for the soulmate to see it, it had to stain your skin. “Pens and markers, those leave stains on your skin. That is what your soulmate sees. It’s a bit fainter than what you see on your own skin. Acrylic paint rarely stains. It just sits on top, so it won’t show up. Thank goodness too, or else you’d look filthy every time your soulmate so much as got muddy.”
Lance had pouted about every time he had unknowingly used paint, “ you should have told me this sooner Mama.”
Instead, they had opted for a sparkly blue gel pen and she’d let him open it as soon as they checked. Lance scribbled a hasty “I’m sorry, Went shopping! Good morning :)” on his arm as he watched the clock above them turn to 11:57.
When they’d gotten in the car he was in a far better mood and his mom smiled at him in the rearview mirror as he thanked her for the hundredth time.
“You’re welcome baby. But… Lance,” her eyes had that soft look to them again, “Your soulmate won’t hate you if you miss one day. You don’t always have to tell people in order for them to know you love them.Sometimes it’s what you do that says more than ‘I love you’ can.”
Lance had nodded along, too happy about his new pen and for keeping his promise to himself to really pay much attention but the words embedded themselves there in his mind regardless.