I sincerely hate this and I’m going to rewrite it because it sucks but I’m gonna post it anyways
Tanner’s 25th birthday had come and gone, and not one measly sign. No dreams, no marks, no sudden exploding color vision, no shared physical sensation, no clock, nothing. No soulmate connection.
He shouldn’t be so concerned. All it means is his soulmate is younger than him. Big whoop, one of them had to turn 25 first. But one month, then two, then before he knew it it seven months had passed by. Still. Shouldn’t worry him. Plenty of people wait years to have their first sign. His own parents were 3 years apart.
But it’s all he thinks about. Even now, 11 months later, in early November. As he’s getting dressed he’s trying to reassure himself that there is someone for him. That he’s not going to be part of the population that remains signless their whole lives.
There exist many theories on why some people remain signless, theories which currently fill his phone history, the most popular being that their soulmate had died before being old enough to form the connection.
Work is the same. Head in, fix whatever’s broken, head out. Plenty to do this time of year with everyone turning their heaters on. Something’s always broken. He likes it well enough at least. Always felt good to him to work with his hands. And it feels good to be fixing something.
The gym is mundane. The same podcast in his headphones, the same regulars he’s friendly with, the same routine.
Dinner is a little bit more exciting, takeout from the Italian place. Nothing to soothe his fears of dying alone like excessive amounts of pasta.
After that is his regular bedtime routine. Shower, brush teeth, go to bed. Try not to think about dying alone. Think about it anyways. Read stories online of people who never got their sign. Try to sleep again. Toss and turn and finally sink into a somewhat relaxing sleep.
