shyan oneshots

it was worth it

shane woke up to the sounds of distant sirens, last nights drunken mistakes suddenly rushing through his throbbing head. he groaned, turning over and reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand next to his bed. he sat up, pain slamming into the back of his eyes.

"fucking hell!" he yelped, pinching the bridge of his nose. he slammed the water down and put on his glasses, standing up out of bed and walking to the bathroom. his breath stank, and he knew so.

he stopped at the mirror above the sink, disappointment flooding in as he felt the black mark on his cheek. he knew the girl last night had touched his face, multiple times. still no luck in turning that spot a bright, brilliant hue instead of the void that stared back at him every day.

he brushed his teeth and washed his face, the stubble on his chin catching the towel as he dried his mouth. he didn't have time to shave, he had to get to work.

he walked down the busy los ángeles streets, watching people go about their daily business. some people, shane noticed, would absentmindedly admire their colored spots. a girl holding hands with her girlfriend ran her fingers over the spot on her girl's knuckles. a man touched the spot on his lips as he ordered coffee. it seemed like everyone had a blue or yellow or pink spot to call their own. all shane had was the deep black imprint on his left cheek.

it didn't help that it was clearly a knuckle imprint. his first contact with his soulmate would be a solid punch to the face. great.

at least it was on a part of him that we always exposed. contact with a soulmate through clothing didn't register, and therefore didn't color the black spot. so if someone touched him, it would work, no matter what.

shane walked into work, greeting his coworkers and walking almost aimlessly towards his section of the building. he didn't like his job; all he really did was sit there and sift through emails, checking twitter and instagram every ten minutes. he did, though, thoroughly enjoy annoying the fuck out of his favorite coworker; ryan steven bergara.

shane decided long ago that anyone under 5'11 was full of rage, and ryan bergara was a classic case of such. he was 5'9, but would constantly insist that he was 5'10, which to shane, was utter bullshit. he was asian, with tanned skin and short black hair. if shane didn't hate him so much, and if the feeling wasn't mutual on ryan's part, shane would even go so far as to say attractive.

"bigfoot, comin' through!" ryan chimed as shane made his way towards his cubicle. shane smiled, glad that ryan had set the mood for the day.

"i wouldn't be so fast to speak, little guy." shane replied, his comebacks already locked and loaded after months of bickering. "you're practically a leprechaun, just a little shorter." shane shot back, a sly smile creeping towards the black imprint on his face.

"i'm five nine!" ryan said back in defeat. a shit eating grin covered shane's face as he knew he had won.

the day went normally, shane shooting paper balls over the wall of his cubicle and ryan throwing them back in anger, ryan spilling a half pot of old, freezing coffee in shane's lap, and the rest of their coworkers rolling their eyes every time either of them would open their mouths. about an hour of actual work had gotten done between the two of them.

by the time shane finished sifting through his work email, the clock struck five, and it was time to go home. shane's pants were mostly dry as he stood up from his rolly chair and pushed it in, gathering his things into a small laptop bag.

"hey!" a cheerful voice called, catching shane's attention and causing him to turn. jen stood in front of him, a small japanese girl with short, chopped hair. "everyone's going to the bar tonight. you in?" she asked happily.