#spralmer

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Spot’s jaw clenched as he tried to calm himself. It was no use getting angry. There wasn’t anything he could do about it either way, and at least if he stayed calm then he could avoid having another fight with Race. 

He just needed to stay calm.

Staying calm wasn’t easy for Spot. His anger was the reason he’d never stayed at a foster home for long. They never wanted to deal with his anger issues. 

Medda was different though, she didn’t meet his anger with more anger, and she definitely didn’t put up with his bullshit. She hadn’t gotten tired of Spot yet, and Spot found himself in the odd position of not being tired of her either, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he liked her other kids too, even Jack.

Though he especially liked that he found Race because she took him in.

Race was Spot’s soulmate — his only soulmate — and Spot loved him with everything he had.

He just wasn’t sure that Race felt the same.

Race had another soulmate. Spot was his soulmate, but he had another one too. He’d never tried to hide this from Spot, and Spot supposed that he should be grateful that his soulmate was so upfront with him, but he couldn’t help but wonder…

Race met his first soulmate when he was young. Race had met a boy briefly, a boy who turned out to be his soulmate, but lost him just as quickly. As far as Spot could tell, Race had known his first soulmate for all of five minutes before he was out of his life, seemingly forever. Race didn’t even know the boy’s name, he just called him ‘Red’.

Spot hated Red.

Which brought him to his current predicament: Red’s armadillo hadn’t moved from Race’s ankle for two days, and Race was practically hysterical about it.

He’d been checking his ankle every five minutes since the soulmark first curled into a ball. He didn’t even know this boy, why was he giving him more attention than he was giving Spot, his very real boyfriend who was in easy reach?

Spot was right here. Race actually knew him. Race knew his name, his favorite color, his tragic backstory, what his favorite kind of pizza was. Race knew Spot. Why did he care so much about someone he didn’t even know?

Spot and Race had argued about Red before, and every argument left Spot feeling like he’d lost. Every argument ended with Race storming off in a huff and not talking to him for days. He didn’t like arguing with Race, he just didn't understand. As far as Spot was concerned, Red might as well not be real, why didn’t Race understand that? Why did he have to be so concerned over some kid when Spot was right here?

“What if he’s dead?” Race sounded particularly unhinged now, which just made Spot clench his jaw tighter.

“If he was dead then it’d lose color.” He managed to spit out between clenched teeth. 

“Well what if he’s dying? It wouldn’t change color if he wasn’t dead yet!”

“Race.” Spot’s voice came out harsher than he meant it to be, and it was the tone that made Race turn.

“What!? What Spot? What did you want?” Some of Race’s desperation turned to anger, making Race sound unhinged in a whole new way.

And of course, there was no way that Spot’s anger didn't rise to meet it. “Why do you care so much about this kid!? You don’t know him! He’s gone! I’m right here!”

“Of course you’re right here! That means I don’t have to worry about you! I can see you, I can’t see him, so I have to worry about him!” Really, just getting angry usually caused a positive feedback loop between the two, it was why they often didn’t talk for days after fighting.

“Why do you have to worry about him though, you don’t know him! You never did! He doesn’t matter!” 

“Of course he matters! He’s my soulmate!”

“So am I!”

“YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!?!”

“WELL YOU SURE DON'T ACT LIKE IT!” As soon as he said it, Spot knew the argument was over, and once again, he’d lost.

“Fuck you, Spot. Just leave me alone.” All the anger had drained from Race’s voice, but Spot knew it would. All their fights always ended the same way, Spot was getting tired of it, but he just couldn’t stop picking them.

Race turned to walk away, and Spot let him. If he were better with words and emotions then maybe he could make things right right now, but he wasn’t and he knew he couldn’t fix this yet. They both just need time to cool off.

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Spot slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. 

Stupid Race and his stupid soulmate who wasn’t Spot. Why couldn’t Race just care about Spot most? Spot was the one that was here, not Red.

It was only when Spot was about to throw himself onto his bed that he realized that other people were in his room. Well his and Jack’s room. Which was probably why Jack was there.

Jack was sitting at his desk, watching Spot with an amused expression that really only ticked him off more. Crutchie was also in the room, sitting on Spot’s bed. Which is really the only reason Spot even noticed Jack to begin with.

“Sorry Spot!” Crutchie scrambled to get off of Spot’s bed. Spot waved him off. His anger had melted away and now he was just tired.

“It’s fine, Crutch.” Spot went to sit at his desk instead, he knew that there wouldn't be any rest until Jack was done annoying him.

“Sooooo,” Jack started out. “What’s gotcha in a mood?”

“Nothing.” Spot pretended to focus on the homework in front of him, he should actually do it, but he probably wouldn’t. English was stupid anyway. Red probably liked English. Stupid.

“Nah you’re upset about somethin’. Is it Racer? You two fightin’ again?” How did Jack always know what was wrong? It was an uncanny ability that he had. Spot hated it.

“Hey Jack, why don’t you shut up.”

“So it is about Race! What, you two fighting about Red again?” How was he always right?

“It’s none of your business,” Spot grumbled. 

“That’s a yes.” Oh great, now Crutchie was getting involved. Crutchie heaved himself up from the bed and crossed the room to be closer to Jack and Spot.

“Aw, Spotty, Red’s Race’s soulmate, just like you are.” Jack rolled his chair until he was way too close to Spot.

Spot shoved the chair away from him. 

“He ain’t like me! He’s gone! Why can’t Race see that?” Why was Spot the only one who could see that?

“Ya know, he’s probably your soulmate too.” Crutchie said gently, unsure how Spot would react.

“Whadda mean?” Spot was focused on Crutchie now; Jack’s face just pissed him off.

“Well it ain’t very common for someone to have two soulmates who ain’t each other’s soulmate too.” Crutchie explained. 

For a fifteen-year-old, Crutchie was pretty smart.