Chapter Text
Gaming can feel sweat dripping down his neck, slipping down his palm to soak into the strap of his bag. His breath comes out hot despite the early winter air. Bennett is half a step behind him, murmuring softly even as he pants. Razor leads, steps quick and sure. Gaming can’t see his face, just the determined set of his shoulders as he guides them through the backstreets. Something tells him that he’s slowing down for their sake, mindful of Gaming’s unfamiliarity with the city and Bennett’s perpetually overflowing backpack.
They’ve gotten a little distracted and left much too late. Bennett’s favourite museum was holding a special, one-day-only exhibition, and they spent the day comparing swordsmithing techniques. It was amazing, and though Gaming never had much interest in the topic, he learned a lot. Both from the exhibition itself and the tidbits Bennett shared. He wished the day could go on forever. Alas, it can’t, and now they’re 3 seconds away from being late for the last bus.
Gaming pushes himself, reaching behind to blindly grasp at Bennett’s hand. Warm, sticky fingers immediately interlace with his. He speeds up, falling into rhythm with Razor. He was right; Razor speeds up even more, so that he can stay at the front.
Okay, okay, okay. They can make it.
“Just a bit more,” Razor throws over his shoulder, quiet but encouraging. Gaming nods at him, sensing Bennett doing the same. A car honks somewhere. They break into a full sprint all at once, without so much as another word, understanding passing between them like air.
They do make it, without a second to spare. The moment they take the last turn, their bus pulls up to a stop and they rush inside, throwing themselves into the first seats they reach.
A few minutes pass where the only sound is their frantic panting. Then, a soft chuckle, more gasp than a sound. Then a giggle. Another one. And they break into laughter, loud and unrestrained, leaning against each other as they struggle for breath for a new reason.
“We ma- huff, made it!”
“Woo!”
***
“Your house is so cool,” Bennett breathes, head swiveling around, trying to take everything in at once.
Gaming must agree. Razor’s house is spacious and sunny, the hallways filled with too many plants to count. Where Cyno’s decor is minimalist (save for his collection) and modern, Mister Tighnari’s can only be described as controlled chaos. Practical and cozy, without a single wasted surface. Pots are hanging off of shelves filled with books, books are stacked by flower stands. And yet, despite how maybe stuff there is, not a single room appears cramped. Some of the furniture looks secondhand, but it all fits together like a puzzle.
“Wow,” Gaming breathes. “There’s so many plants! Do you water all of them?”
Razor shakes his head, gesturing to a corner of the living room where a propagation station is set up. “Dad goes that. I dust; Collei comes by twice a week to help.”
Tighnari’s first adoptee, Gaming knows. She moved out recently to live closer to her college. It was on the other side of the city. She must be spending so much time on the commute. And as a medicine student, no less! The workload was mythical; was she writing papers on the train?
As of reading his thoughts, Bennett whistles. “All the way from the Akademiya?! Wow!” He spins around once more, taking everything in a new light.
Razor shrugs, a soft smile growing on his face. “She likes keeping busy.”
“Runs in the family!” Gaming laughs, throwing his arms around the others.
“You two are the same,” Razor points out, though he doesn’t deny the fact. He leans his head against Gaming’s, sighing contently.
“Uh, yeah?” Gaming gasps, faking offense. “We’re also family!”
They set up in Razor’s room. It’s cozy, though more sparsely decorated than the rest of the house. Forest wallpaper covers the walls, except for one. That one is painted a soft brown and covered in photos. Animals in the zoo, strays around the city. Selfies with Tighnari or Collei. Photos of the two working with the plants. Of Bennett and Gaming. Gaming stares, captivated. He hasn’t even noticed them being taken! Next to him, Bennett sniffles loudly, smile so bright it lights up the room. Gaming knocks their shoulders together with a grin of his own.
“Those are so good, Leilei! Could I borrow a few? For reference? I’ll be super careful with them, scout’s honor!”
“I know,” comes Razor’s soft murmur. He shuffles with something behind Gaming’s back. “Thought you’d ask. Here.”
He presents Gaming with a little wooden box, about twice the width of an envelope. It’s filled to the brim with pictures. Some of them copies of the photos on the wall, some entirely new. And listen, Gaming’s not a crier, but he does choke up a little. How?? So precious?? Nobody—maybe save Cyno, but that was his father—has ever done something like this for him.
“Razor,” he says through a tight throat, “I love you.”
The other nods with a soft smile. “I love Ming-ge too,” his eyes shift to the side, “and Benny as well.”
Bennett jumps in place, throwing his arms around both their necks and pulling them close to himself. “Aw, I love you, guys!”
They stay like that for a long while until Bennett backs out, admitting to a surprise of his own. Soon, each of their wrists is decorated with a handmade bead bracelet. Each spells two initials, so, as Bennett says, they’re always with each other.
That night, Gaming falls asleep with his head tucked under Razor’s arm, legs thrown over Bennett’s middle, and heart so full he fears it will actually, physically burst.
***
Cyno stares at him over their cards, somehow both expressionless and imploring. His fingers are laced in front of his face, Man Chai curled up between his elbows; a few cards balanced precariously on his back. Gaming pretends it isn’t working.
“You’re stalling,” Cyno says eventually. Observant rather than judging, and Gaming sighs.
“I’m thinking,” he admits. Shuffles his cards from one hand to the other without making a play.
“Not about the match.” Something pitches in his expression. “Trying to find a distraction or getting distracted?”
Ah, he knows him so well. Cyno always had a knack for getting right in his head. “Getting distracted,” he admits pensively. Lays his cards on the table—face down, because he still wants to finish the match after—and leans back in his chair. “I keep wondering… do you…do you think it’s possible to be soulmates without being in love?”
“I’m pretty sure you can love somebody without it being romantic. You may not remember Candace, but she doesn’t even get crushes,” Cyno muses, reaching across the small table to ruffle his hair. “I’ve heard of parental bonds as well. Do you think you’ve found yours?”
“I’m not sure? It’s just a feeling I get…I’ve never felt like that with anyone—but it’s definitely not like! Y’know…”
“I know,” Cyno smiles. “Ultimately, you’re going to have to ask them, but I’d say to trust your instincts.”
“But what if I’m wrong?”
The hand that was in his hair slips down, hovering in the air for a moment. Then a knuckle presses between his brows, guiding Gaming to raise his head. Once he’s sure Gaming is paying attention, Cyno very deliberately shrugs. “Then you’re wrong. You’re good friends, they won’t mind an honest mistake. Don’t punish yourself before you’ve tried.”
He doesn’t say ‘This isn’t like you’, though he’d be right if he did. Gaming has always pushed through any doubt with determination and a smile on his lips. A very ‘If I have to cross the ice, I might as well dance the way’ kinda thing. He’s a little surprised at his hesitation too; But this isn’t just about him. Soulmate bonds are mutual, and he doesn’t want the other two to think he’s pushing them. He’s not sure if one even can move too fast, friendship-wise, but what if he does? Then never mind him, he’d have gone off and made things awkward for them!
…Cyno’s right, though. Dancing around it won’t change the outcome.
“That obvious, huh?”
“They tackled you in the doorway genuinely distressed how much they’ve missed you,” Cyno replies, indulgent. “We were gone for three days.”
“Ahahah, sorry for the trouble!”
A foot nudges his under the table. “No. Soulmates or not, it’s good to see you’ve found your people. Your move.”
Gaming picks up his cards, grin splitting his reddening cheeks. He really got lucky with his family, didn’t he? “Alright, take this!”
***
He’s not nervous per se—even if he had been, being about those two sets him at ease within minutes—but there’s restless energy buzzing within him, making Gaming unable to stand still as he waits. It’s entertainment for Man Chai, at least, who’s taken it as a challenge to weave the leash between his legs until he stops moving.
Twenty loops and counting, hasn’t succeeded yet.
“Ming-ge!” sounds from the top of the staircase; two sets of feet thunder down to meet him. Gaming catches Razor in a bear hug, then falls on his ass half a second later when Bennett follows. The ground is warm, late spring leaving the earth soft and grass-scented, even in the middle of the path. Gaming stays on his back, Bennett lying on his chest and Razor in the crook of his arm as they sputter in laughter.
“This is starting to become a tradition,” Bennett wheezes eventually, sitting up to pet Man Chai. “Hi, you rascal. You really like doing that, huh?”
“I can’t tell if he just likes being close or watching me fall,” Gaming grumbles, fondness seeping into his tone. He starts shimmying out of the tangle with Razor’s help. Though, he supposes, both things can be true.
Once he can stand back up properly, they venture deeper into the park. Bennett sets up their blanket under an apple tree, smoothing out even the tiniest wrinkles. Razor has brought pita pockets, courtesy of Collei, and Gaming has at least five different drinks in his bag. They spend the afternoon in an easy atmosphere, sketching and taking pictures, playing cards and crafting a playlist. Gaming tells tales from school—his classmates are very silly—and highlights from Cyno’s new streams. Bennett gives them updates on his archery practice, sharing innocent gossip he got from Fischl; one of their instructors got a tattoo, and another was on cloud nine over his engagement. Razor speaks of a book club Collei was part of, encouraging him to join in as well, so they could spend more time together. Tighnari said it’d be good for him. He was basically convinced, only worried he didn’t know many people. Bennett, of course, immediately offers to join as well if it works with his schedule. Gaming is right behind him there.
The sun is starting to set by the time they’ve exhausted the topics. Gaming shifts uncertainty, wondering if this is the moment to bring up his thoughts, when Razor speaks up.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking…” he shakes his head, reconsidering. He places a hand over his heart, “When we’re together…when we’re apart…here…” his fingers curl into his shirt, but the look he gives them is unwavering, “It’s not just me, is it?”
Bennett launches forward, pulling Razor’s hand away to grasp it in his own. He bats at Gaming’s with the other until he laces their fingers as well, “Oh, oh! I’ve been wondering! I miss you guys so much when you’re not here! And my new fosters say that maybe, see, it’s similar for them, and-“ he whips towards Gaming, eyes wide and hopeful and so soft, “Is it?!”
Suddenly, it seems so obviously Gaming kind of wants to laugh at himself. Of course they felt it too. It wasn’t like any other relationship he had, and bonds were always mutual, of course! Ah, he’s going to burst! The universe has gifted him with two wonderful friends—soulmates—and they didn’t even let him question it for a day before confirming his thoughts. He feels so lucky he could fly!
…except then Man Chai would tangle him up in a tree, and that might be more difficult to get out of.
Instead, he only grins, eyes maybe just a little bit glassy—it’s not like they would judge him for it anyway—and squeezes their hands to his chest.
“Hello, Soulmates. I’m so glad to have you.”
And then, between hugs and warmth and cheers; between ‘I’m lucky to know you’s and ‘We gotta celebrate’s, he adds, “Please don’t let Cyno plan the party.”
Twin grins beam right back at him, and after Razor’s “Dad knows a great caterer,” Bennett goes and drops the “My fosters have a ballroom.”
Needless to say, they all get home just a little bit late.