Ink | Soulmate AU | ✓

four | it burns inside of us

   The Inking feeling in my arm continued for quite some time and it was hard to make sense of anything going on around me; a desperate curiosity urged me to rip off my jacket and see what he was writing, but I resisted, comforted somewhat by the thought that I could read it all later, at home, with a cup of tea and a warm blanket.

I was the pages of someone else's autobiography, and that was the most amazing thing in the world, but if I gave in to my desires now... I didn't dare imagine what would happen to me, or to him, or to us both. I was almost certain they had subtle ways of tracking us, with spies and with cameras, and everyone, Inked or not, had heard stories of what had happened to the ones who'd been caught. Suicide rates were high. Murder rates even more so. Torture rates weren't public knowledge, but you can bet they'd be higher still, should the numbers be released.

I gulped, knowing I would have to wait until I was alone to read whatever he'd written.

My Professor was going on about something Michelangelo; I could distantly hear the words Sistine Chapel and touching fingers and Adam's lack of genitalia, speaking in his usual condescending tone. I got the distinct impression my Professor believed he was better than Michelangelo or anything he'd ever painted - and considering his main, best-known painting was of God, that was one hell of a superiority complex.

'Now, I wouldn't expect children such as yourselves to understand,' he was saying, 'But the idea - the concept - of love is a complicated one. Not quite explainable by science,' he said, and the girl sitting next to me in a Schrödinger's Cat t-shirt rolled her eyes, 'But, by that token, not quite explainable by anything we, as humans, understand.' His lips rolled into a smug smile. 'That's what, many believe, Michelangelo was attempting to capture in his masterpiece, The Creation of Adam.' He frowned again and started to pace up and down on the stage. 'The way in which what he perceives as God - an omnipotent deity - touches Adam - the human being - just gently; the artist suggests, without insinuating too heavily, might I add, that the love we feel for one another, perhaps for one other person-' I saw his shoulders tense, just barely, and he began to sound almost wistful- 'the very thing that makes us human- isn't... quite... human. But something... something more. Something... deeper. Something... uncontrollable.'

He paused, scanning the room. And in a singular moment of tension, his eyes locked with mine and it was as if he knew. He was so far away, at the front of the room, but I felt the coldness in his eyes wash over me like icy water and shoot a chill down my spine.

'It... burns... inside of us,' he went on, still staring at me though I'd long since looked away, 'like a restless inferno. Some of us,' he smirked, 'More than others.'

Then I sensed his eyes flit past me, and I relaxed again. He didn't know anything. This was my gift, my curse, and my secret.

I just had to hear about the history of art for a little while longer, and then the Ink would be mine to look over for as long as I wanted. I just had to get through this one lecture. Suddenly motivated, I tried to concentrate, and failed dramatically.

I was in love. I just didn't know it yet.

***

   The second the lecture was over, I practically sprinted home and slammed my front door key into the lock, fumbling for a moment, then falling not-so-gracefully into the hallway. Swinging my rucksack off my shoulders I dumped it on the floor and ran for the sofa, crashing down onto it, not even pausing to make coffee before I ripped my jacket off and threw it across the room.

   I just had time to see the very last words appear before the Inking sensation stopped. And I began to read.