God...soul mates. The mere thought makes Landon's stomach churn. The fact that previous love could be gone in a SECOND if you met your soul mate? Fucking stupid. The fact that genetics and a simple mark on your skin could change the tide of your entire life? Bullshit.

His whole life he had been bitter and resentful of soul mates. He couldn't stand to look at his own soul mark. No matter how much he tried he couldn't wash it off or scrub it clean. A dirty, marring symbol that matched him with...someone.

But he was so glad they came back. So fucking glad. He had been...hollow without them. When they left for those torturously long years, he felt adrift. Aimless.

God. They were so fucking cute, restocking those shelves. Doing their job like the good little wage slave they were. They were always so good at staying in their place and doing what they were told that it pissed him off. Always the goody two-shoes kissing professors asses, always being too sweet to fight back. Oh, he used to press them so hard, wait to see them snap.

But now every time he looks at them he gets stupid fucking butterflies and a world of guilt. It was a curse, being their soul mate.

He stands up, walking past them. He needs to distract himself - now. He knocks the mop over on 'accident', watching the bucket go with it, spewing greywater all over the tile floor. "Woops," He smirks down at them, "Better get the wet floor signs. Hope you don't slip and fall, ya fuckin' clutz."