So this story was inspired by this prompt:

Imagine your OTP in a world where if your soulmate is harmed in any way, you get harmed in the same way. Person A cuts themselves, believing they'll never find their soulmate. (It's Person B) Person B finds marks all over their arms and panics in the realization that their soulmate is cutting themselves. What happens beyond there is up to you.

I found the prompt on otppromts. tumblr .com(without spaces) if you want to check out other prompts.

Trigger Warning: There is mentions of self harming throughout this whole story.

Amy

They say every time you get injured, the injuries show up on your soulmate. It was that thought that made me hesitate every single time I ran the blade over my wrist. If I really had a soulmate out there, I didn't want to hurt them.

But the cutting helped with the fear. The fear of not actually having a soulmate like everyone says you do.

I turn the blade around in my hand, contemplating whether or not I should do it. Again.

Just one more cut. It wouldn't hurt more than the last one right?

It's not like anyone would actually care about what I was doing since they were too busy with their "soulmate." I sighed, putting the blade down, wondering if I should call Karma. I decided not to, she was probably with Liam.

It was just last month, when Karma received a broken arm and a jagged shaped scar above her collarbone from a car crash, and Liam showed up at school the same day with the same injuries. Everyone knew right then and there that they were soulmates.

So now pretty much everyone at school had found their soulmate. Except, you know, me. Karma tried to reassure me that I would probably find mine soon, but I wasn't too sure about that. I'm starting to think mine got hit by a car or something.

"You know what, fuck it." I muttered, grabbing the knife.

I put the blade against my arm, and started moving it. Back and forth. Back and forth. I pulled the knife back, inspecting the damage.

The skin around the cut was puffing up, with blooding beading up in a straight line. It started tingling and burning at first, but then I felt the relief it brings.

It felt pretty good.

Before I knew it, I had six more running along my arm, the blood dripping down my arm, falling onto the floor of the bathroom.

I rinsed the knife in the sink, not caring about cleaning my arms. I was going to take a shower anyways. When I stepped into the shower, the cuts started stinging.

I smiled at the pain. Everyone else is happy, so why can't I be happy too?

Not sure if I like the way I wrote this. But still going to post it. I'm sorry that it's short.