Numbers(Randy Fanfic)

Part 1

*Andy’s POV*

I don’t know why everyone was so excited for me. They wanted me to be excited as well, but I just couldn’t be. Today was the day that my number should be showing up. The day that I start the search for my soulmate. I’m definitely not ready for that. My mom and dad were each other’s soulmates, yet they completely hate each other. They have hated each other from the start, but it is against the law to marry anyone other than your soulmate.

They fight all the time, and I sometimes wish that splitting apart was legal. I would definitely choose to live with my mom because my dad is a total asshole to her. No wonder they fight all the time. She is nothing but good to him, and he is a complete jerk to her and me.

I poked the food in the bowl that was in front of me. I didn’t feel like eating because of how nervous I am. I really do not want my relationship with my soulmate to be like my parent's relationship. I feel that if I were to eat anything, I would throw up. I was constantly checking my wrist for my number. I mean, sure I didn’t want to have to go through with this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my number to show up. If the number doesn’t show up on your wrist, you are sent to a special city with huge walls surrounding it where you live the rest of your life in misery because you are not like the others.

I desperately was looking for the number on my wrist, but it wasn’t showing up. I was born at four in the morning, and 18 year olds had exactly six hours after they turned 18 for their number to show up. So I still had two and a half hours since it was only 7:30. If you had a number that appeared on your wrist, it would appear no longer than six hours after you turned 18, so if it didn’t show, guards would take you to the special city immediately after the six hours were up.

“All right, you have to head to school now, but I’m sure that it will show up, honey. Don’t be so nervous,” my mom said as she stroked my cheek.

I nodded nervously and took one bite of my food since I was starving, yet I felt nauseous. Right then my dad walked into the kitchen. “It probably won’t show, actually. My brother’s didn’t, so one of my kids are definitely not going to have theirs. Since your other two brothers had theirs, you probably aren’t going to get yours, so it was nice knowing you,” my dad said as he patted me on the back a couple of times.

“Don’t tell him that,” she scolded, “of course it will show up,” she said, directing her attention back to me.

“Now, off you go,” she said as she handed me my bag and pushed me in the direction of the doorway. I grabbed my jacket from the couch as I made my way outside. The cool London breeze hit me, catching me off guard, so I quickly put my jacket on. I squeezed my arms against my body, hoping that I could conserve heat.

I started down the sidewalk as I checked my wrist again. I saw a guard passing by, so I pretended that I was just looking at my watch. It was good to know that it was already 7:40, so I had to run, so I wouldn’t be late.

As I looked back over my shoulder, I saw a group of guards crowd a house. I stopped in my tracks, and turned around to watch. After a minute or two, a couple guards came out of the house pulling along a girl who was punching and kicking. I heard her screaming in agony as they carried her along. She kept screaming the same phrase over and over again, “it’s going to show up.”

I barely made it to school and in the classroom before the bell rang. I sat down in my desk next to my best friend Jack Duff. He was shaking his knee nervously and rubbing his sweating hands against his knees. He looked at me to reveal his sweaty face and nervous eyes. His breathing was heavy and he looked as if he was holding back tears.

He looked at me with sorrow before showing me that both of his wrists were plain. There were no spots, marks, cuts, bruises, or blemishes. Nothing. That meant that there were also no numbers. He gulped before whispering quietly, “my eighteenth birthday was two weeks ago.”

My jaw dropped, and the look of pity unintentionally came upon my face. “How are you still here,” I whispered back to him.

“Boys,” the teacher said from the front of the room, “How many times do I have to tell you? No talking.” He did always get onto us for talking, but we were near the back of the class, so we always talked anyway.

“I ran away the day before my eighteenth birthday. That’s why I was gone for a week and a half, but I think the guards might be looking for me again,” he said before a tear left his eye, “I don’t want to go to the city of misery.” By now he was full on sobbing in class. Everyone was looking in our direction. I raised my hand in the air, and the teacher nodded before I even had to ask my question.

I grabbed Jack by his arm to pull him out of his desk before leaving the room with him. Once we were in the loo, and I thought there was no one around, I began to try to comfort him. “Hey, if they haven’t found you yet, they will probably quit trying to find you,” I said. He shook his head in response, and started crying less.

“They searched for my brother for almost four years before they found him,” Jack said as he started crying again.

“Well maybe you are just a late bloomer. You did hit puberty a whole year later than I did, and I was a late bloomer,” I said as I pulled him in for a hug.

“First, it’s weird when you refer to guys hitting puberty as blooming because no one does that. And second, the longest past the eighteenth birthday that it has ever been for anyone is six hours, not two freaking weeks,” he said quite loudly.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I just hugged him until class was over. I was kind of hoping that my physical comfort would be enough to calm him down.

We walked out of the loo to go to our next class, but there were two guards waiting for us. “Jack Duff,” one of them asked. Jack immediately started sobbing, and he fell to his knees. They looked at his wrists then quickly took him outside to a car. I ran with them, hoping that by some miracle they wouldn’t go.

Sadly, one of the two cars drove off. It was the car that had Jack in it obviously. The two guards looked at me before checking their watches. “Looks like you have fifty-four minutes, Andy Fowler,” one guard said as he looked over a paper he was holding. When I got a better look at the paper, I realised that it was my birth certificate.

The next class went by too quickly, and my numbers never appeared. Right when I walked out of the door of the classroom, the guards grabbed hold of me and looked at my wrists. When they saw that there were no numbers, they started taking me outside. “Please, no. Just give it a few more minutes. It will show up, I know it,” I yelled. They didn’t stop. Instead they shoved me into the backseat of the car.

A/N- Hey… so this is my new Roadtrip fanfic!! It is a Randy fanfic because I ship it so dang much!! Anyway please vote and comment!! Thanks!!xx