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“I love you so much, Mihael,” says Luka as soon as they are alone in the privacy of their hotel room, and Mihael quirks an eyebrow at him in response.
“Love you too, ljubavi ,” he responds, like it’s nothing, like helping Luka to knockouts and then beating SKT and crushing TL was the least he could do, like it’s just another day of LEC that they’ve won and not the grand finals of MSI. He hangs up his jacket as Luka watches, and shuffles his shoes into a corner by the door. “Hey, did you want to take a shower first? Curfew is kinda late so Marcin, Martin, and Rasmus won’t be able to get here for a while. Might as well get ready for bed.”
“No, like… you don’t understand how much this means to me. How much you mean to me,” Luka reiterates, “you and Marcin and Rasmus and Martin… I would do anything for you. I love you so much. Like, this is insane. I love you all more than anything.” He laughs softly and runs a hand over his head. “Like… I don’t even know how to say it.”
There’s so much emotion swirling in him, so much overflowing love that he doesn’t even know what to do with, so much bubbliness in his chest and so much dizzying dopamine in his head, such a strong urge to kiss every last one of his boyfriends until they’re all blushy and giggling and hugging him close. But the only one at hand is Mihael, so he’ll have to lavish all his love on his support for the time being.
“I mean, you’re the one who carried us here, aren’t you?” says Mihael, packing away his items, not paying attention to Luka who steps closer and closer, shedding his backpack and jacket onto a spare table and finally reaching Mihael, then embracing him in a tight hug for what feels like an eternity and yet never long enough.
Luka tries to push all of his happiness into that hug so that Mihael understands what he feels. He clutches Mihael to him, inhaling the faint scent of Mihael’s deodorant and the stronger smell of sweat and adrenaline, Mihael setting his hands on Luka’s hips. As the hug drags on and Mihael recognises that it’s not just a quick embrace that Luka wants, he hooks his arms around Luka’s waist and rubs his back, and Luka sighs so deeply, eyelashes fluttering. Eventually, Mihael begins to chastely kiss Luka’s neck, cool pecks against heated skin.
In response, Luka somehow presses their bodies even closer together until their clothing is flattened between them. To Luka’s dismay, Mihael pulls himself back, but a hand on his cheek and a kiss to his lips, deep and sweet and everything Luka wants, soothes him.
“Alright, medu, let’s take a bath before the others arrive,” says Mihael cajolingly. Luka just buries his face under Mihael’s chin. “You know,” teases Mihael, “if I were Martin I would just pick you up, but I can’t.” Luka giggles softly into Mihael’s skin. “Come on, I bought these amazing bath bombs, we have to use one, right?”
“Alright,” mumbles Luka, loosening his grip on Mihael, but not letting go of one of Mihael’s hands even as the support digs through his luggage for a bath bomb.
Mihael coddles him when they finally get in the bath, arms crossed over Luka and holding him to Mihael, close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats through the thumps that vibrate through their chests, and Luka thinks that maybe, like this, Mihael understands a little bit of how much love is flooding his system right now, love for Mihael and Rasmus and Martin and Marcin and all of them together because they’re so good together and he loves them so much and he never wants to be separated from them and damn was role-swapping the best idea he’s ever had!
Mihael’s hands massaging soap all over him and lathering shampoo in his hair, cupping pink-tinted water with flecks of rose petal and pouring the sweet scent all over him all makes the experience a million times better. As carefully as he can, once Mihael is done, Luka turns around to return the favour, exuding pure love and performing each action with meticulous care, the kind that his support deserves for carrying him so far in his first Split as an ADC.
Soon enough the water cools and Mihael drains the tub, wrapping Luka in one of the hotel’s luxurious towels while Mihael ties another around his waist and throws a shirt on. It’s horribly oversized, so Luka can easily tell that it’s Martin’s. Another large shirt, this one smelling of Mihael and Marcin - one that they must trade between them - is given to Luka, alongside a pair of boxer briefs, and Luka manages to slip them all on just as a knocking sound emanates from their hotel-room door.
Quickly Luka rushes to greet the three who he already knows are bound to arrive, and he tugs Rasmus, Martin, and Marcin through the door with a lovestruck smile on his face.
When the door clicks shut and they know that they are safe from prying eyes, Rasmus practically pins Luka to the wall and locks their lips immediately. Not to be outdone, Luka responds with roaming hands and a smile through the kiss.
“You would not believe how thrilled Rasmus is right now,” says Martin, apparently in an off-handed comment to Mihael, who chuckles.
“Luka is practically exploding with how much he loves us all right now, so maybe mids have something in common?”
Marcin just smiles wide, watching Luka and Rasmus stand pressed together everywhere from lips to chest to hips to legs, and he sighs. “I mean, I feel the same way, you know? Like, you all carried me to my first LEC win and now to MSI win… I just- I don’t know where I would be without you all.”
“Maybe a little more sane,” Martin teases, and when Luka cracks an eye open he sees that Martin has an arm slung around Marcin, nuzzling his cheek and holding him close while Mihael leans against them.
Luka and Rasmus don’t kiss frantically, at least not right now, but they kiss long and slow, lips barely moving, just enjoying the sensation and the joy in their hearts.
At long last, Rasmus breaks away to rest his cheek against Luka’s and simultaneously they say, “I love you, so much, like, you would not believe it.”
“I love you all so much,” says Luka again, reaching for Marcin’s hand and pulling them all closer, “so much. I would die for you. I would give up anything for you, I would do anything for you, I would try anything for you, I would- mmmmmmn… ” He breathes deeply, relaxing into the kiss that Marcin gave just to shut him up.
This kiss is more tongue and passion, a slight taste of coffee blending with chocolate and rosewater, and while he’s distracted Marcin swoops Luka up off his feet, making the ex-mid-laner throw arms around Marcin’s neck for stability and for love. “Bastard,” Luka says, but his smile and the way he gives Marcin an Eskimo kiss says otherwise.
At their sides, Martin scoops Rasmus up and throws him over a shoulder precariously, made more dangerous by the mid-laner’s squirming, but a strong arm around Rasmus’s waist and another around Mihael’s secures them both as they quickly move to the bedroom.
There, they all pile onto one bed, a cosy fit but perfectly fine for these five lovebirds, and Luka worms his way to the middle. When he’s sure that he has some sort of physical contact with them all - Rasmus cuddled into his side, Marcin with an arm under his back, Martin’s arm around his shoulder, and Mihael’s face nuzzled into the crook between Luka’s chin and Marcin’s cheek - Luka begins his speech.
“I love you all,” he says, “so much. You don’t even know what I’m feeling right now, like… I… this is unreal. You all… I love you all. I don’t even know how to say it out loud but you make me so happy, like my heart is bubbly and about to burst and you take care of me and of us and I… I love you. All of you. So, so, so, so so so much.”
Everyone wriggles closer to him until he’s surrounded by so much adoration and happiness that Luka thinks he might explode.
“I know what you’re feeling like, Luka-love,” says Marcin at long last. “It feels like you’re on top of the world, right? Like everything is surreal, because surely this can’t be reality, right? The world seems too good to be true, like, four amazing boyfriends who carry me to an MSI win? That’s just something players dream about. But it’s real…” Marcin trails off at the end, closing his eyes in tiredness and thought, but reopening them quickly and bursting into giggles when he’s assaulted with kisses and affection. “I mean, we still owe it to Luka, right? Because without you I think I would still be losing in semis in LEC.”
Before Luka can pepper Marcin’s cheek with more smooches and retort that Marcin is probably the reason they don’t get shit on in laning phase, Martin chips in.
“Yeah, same here. Luka, lille , I don’t think you quite realise that you are the reason we’re all here, right? Without you we don’t exist,” says Martin, cupping Luka’s cheek and gazing into his eyes as he blushes. “Without you, I’m still on Splyce and Marcin is stuck on H2K. Without you, Rasmus is with Fnatic and Mihael is left with Misfits. You’re amazing, Luka. You made this happen.”
By now Luka is already bright red, reduced to simple giggling and shy, humble responses, all of which are being drowned out by kiss after kiss to his heart-shaped lips.
And now it is Mihael’s turn. “You know, not everyone can role-swap and suddenly find themselves on top of the world,” he teases, murmuring into Luka’s ear and then nibbling at it to earn himself a gasp. “You can. That’s how amazing you are, Lu. You make this team what it is, captain, you’re the one leading us to victory, aren’t you? I love you so much - maybe even more than you love me,” says Mihael with a smirk.
Even though he knows it’s a bait, Luka falls right into Mihael’s trap. “No way, I love you to the moon and back,” he says, kicking off the game.
“Well, I love you to the stars and back,” Mihael snarks as Martin and Marcin laugh.
“Through time and space!”
“With every atom in my body!”
“More than the oceans are deep!”
“Farther than all the DNA in the world laid out end to end!”
(“Okay, Miky, stop flexing on us with your biology,” says Martin with a kiss to Mihael’s temple.)
“Well,” says Rasmus, “I’ll love you all until the day I die.”
Instantly the mood in the room sobers.
“You’ve given me something that no one else could have - winning MSI, winning Splits on two different teams, and being with you all every step of the way… I love you all until I die. I will never forget us,” Rasmus says, almost in a confessing tone. “I could never forget us.”
“Me neither,” is the response, and it echoes throughout the room with each different voice.
“We’re so much better together. I hope we never split up,” says Mihael, and immediately Martin warns him away from that train of thought.
“I just hope we never hate each other,” he says instead. “We might get split up, and that’s okay. We’ll be okay. But I never, ever, ever want to end up hating you. I love you all too much.”
Another chorus of responses rings, this time an “I love you too, all so much.” The phrase is followed almost instantaneously by tightening embraces, pulling every last one of them so much closer on the already-packed bed until they’re little more than an amorous tangle of limbs and the occasional pair of lips locking onto another pair with soft smacking noises that set off a chain reaction of kisses and nuzzles and maybe a few hickies - though Rasmus’s delicate hand with makeup the next day makes it appear as though nothing happened at all.
For now, they embrace.
“I can’t thank you enough,” says Luka, when Rasmus has eased up on his desperate need to be kissed. “You brought me here. You made me successful. I love you.”
“Oh, myszko, ” says Marcin, “you brought us here.”
“Yeah, Luka- ljubavi , without you playing bot-lane Rasmus and I would never have had the chance to be here.” Mihael’s eyes are wide and dark and pleading so prettily.
In any other circumstance, Luka would have pounced on him in an instant with a look like that, but here and now, with such a pure-love aura to the room and the mood, Mihael’s sexy look instead sends tingles down his spine alongside a shock of warm happiness.
“We owe it to you, Luka. You made this happen.”
“ Lille Luka,” mumbles Martin, kissing Luka’s cheek, “you’re the captain, aren’t you? You brought us to this tournament and you made us successful. Don’t doubt yourself!”
“After all, you made the move, right?” continues Rasmus. “You moved to ADC to let me join and here we are now, beating SKT and winning MSI. You made us, Luka. You made our wins possible. That’s all you!”
“I mean, it’s all of us, isn’t it?” says Luka with a smile. “We’re better together.”
“Well, we’re all better together, right? You and I,” Rasmus giggles, kissing Marcin’s nose, “And you and I,” a kiss to Martin’s lips, “and you and I,” eskimo kisses with Mihael, “and of course, you and I,” he concludes, kissing his ADC chastely.
Luka sighs softly with a broad grin on his face, and at the conclusion of their smallest member’s speaking, they all divebomb him with kisses and nuzzles and nibbles that make him laugh and giggle, squirm, squeak so cutely, murmur words of love into their ears that just encourage them to keep on going.
“ Jeg elsker jer alle,” say Rasmus and Martin, kicking off another domino trail.
“Kocham was wszystkich,” responds Marcin.
“Ljubim vas vse,” Mihael hums melodically, and then it is Luka’s turn, the final touch:
“Volim vas sve,” he says. Part of him wants to shout it to the Worlds, that these are his lovers and this team will do great things.
But the rest of him is warm and sleepy and loved and loving, and with the arms of his lovers wrapped around him and their lips still gently pressing against his face intermittently, he drowses off. Just before he falls asleep, someone says it, and then he is lost in the dark, happy depths of his dreams.
“I love you all.”
And it rings through the night.