I finally decided to upload this. I hope you like. Don't cry.

Mark's POV
I was sitting at my desk drawing in my notebook when I saw writing start to cross my arm. At first I was scared but then I remembered a story my grandmother told me a few years ago. That whenever your true love writes on themselves you get it too. And the same goes for them.

I watched as the ink formed into what looked like a monitored heart beat (above). It looked really good and precise. Whoever my true love was, she *cough* he *cough cough* must be good at drawing. Better than me at least.

I watched as more patterns and designs were written into my skin. Then I laughed at something the mystery person wrote.

School sucks balls!

I decided to write back. I picked up a blue pen, as to not collide with the black pen on my arms, and wrote a response below it.

Yup! Glad its night time.

I smiled at my horrible writing. Though the other person seemed to be able to read it as they replied with.

Wait, its night for you!? School only just fucking started!

I laughed at the response. But it left me wondering. Where did they live to be so early in the morning. Not America that's for sure. I shrugged it off and wrote back.

Haha, I get to stay in my cosy room and draw :P

I hate you!

I laughed at the there reaction. A cheeky smirk appeared on my face, though they couldn't see it.

Well saying we can see what's written on each others arms, you love me ;)

Not yet I don't. I don't even know your name and doubt I'll ever meet you saying our time zones and the rules linked with our writing.

I frowned at their response and decided to stop writing back. I stopped drawing all together. I got up and walked over to my bedroom light to turn it off but more writing started forming on my arm.

I'm sorry. I've had a bad day...

I smiled sadly at the writing but still didn't respond. I just went to bed. It was pretty late anyway. (I don't actually know the time zone differences so just roll with it Kay). Soon my mind slipped into sleep and I dreamed of what my true love would look like.

Jack's POV
I frowned sadly when they didn't reply. They probably just went to bed... Or they hate me like everyone else. Well, not everyone. My one friend Felix doesn't. He's the only one who cares.

He saw my frown and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw his worried and concerned look.

"You okay there bro?" He asked in his Swedish accent. I opened my mouth to reply but just ended up closing it and showing him my arm.

He silently read over the conversation, laughing at the persons reply but then saw mine and frowned sadly. He returned his gaze to me.

"I'm sure he just went to sleep. By the looks of it he is probably living somewhere in America and it's the middle of the night," he replied comfortingly. I sighed and looked at the persons messy writing.

"I hope," I mumble quietly as the bell that ended first class rang.

I got up and quickly packed my things, hoping to get to my next class before 'they' saw me. I was to no avail though because halfway down the hall I was pulled to the side and my head was rammed onto a nearby locker. My nose cracked and at that moment I was glad only ink showed on my true loves body and not broken bones and bloodied cuts.

"Hey loser. Where do you think you're going?" The school bully cooed in my ear. I sniffed and held in my urges to cry.

When I didn't reply he rammed my head into the locker several times, earning a few cries from me, but most of the time I remained quiet. If I didn't show them how much I was suffering then they would get bored and leave me alone.

I was thrown to the ground and kicked several times in the head and body. I was definitely going to get bruises later. But all the while I remained quiet.

Just like I thought, they left me alone. Feeling like I had 'learned my lesson'. They called me names down they hall as the disappeared. Leaving me alone on the floor as the bell rang.

I decided to just skip the rest of the day, limping home to my empty house. My parents are never here. They're always working. It was good though because I didn't have to explain the bruises or broken bones or cuts...

I took one look at the writing on my arm before grabbing a cloth and scrubbing it all off. They don't care. No one does. I screamed and punched a wall before sliding down it and crying myself to sleep in the awkward position.

Well that was sad. I cri, don't worry Jack. I care for you!