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The London air is thick and heavy with heat, making Tubbo’s hoodie cling to his chest uncomfortably. He, Tommy, and Ranboo had all finished filming another vlog- some combination of rock climbing and survivalist tendencies that made his entire fucking body ache. Whatever it was, it resulted in him and Ranboo collapsing on one of the two hotel beds in their room- side by side.
It was quiet for a moment, a gentle buzz of the AC and the occasional gasps of air from his partner that filled the comfortable silence. Ever since Ranboo came to the U.K, Tubbo found himself minding the quiet. There was no voice to help soothe him to sleep, or coo at him during the streams. Instead, words were tucked behind private whispers inches apart from each other’s faces.
Tubbo thought about Phil and Kristen, who were openly affectionate anytime she popped up on Phil’s facecam. Of all the couples they passed by during the vlog- laughing and holding hands. Nobody bothered to stare at them, because there was nothing special to ogle.
He and Ranboo just had to be special, didn’t they?
Tubbo sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it for a moment as he thought. Sometimes, the yearning for normalcy got a little too hard to bear on his own. Turning his head over to Ranboo, he kept his eyes cast downward. “Do you think we could do it?”
“Do what?” Ranboo asks, and he shuffles a little so they could meet at eye level. He had already been looking at Tubbo- and found it hard to tear himself away. To him, it felt like walking into a home after a cold day, or a sunflower diligently following the sun.
“Go outside.”
“We-” Ranboo’s brows pinched together in confusion, nose wrinkling. Tubbo sort of thought it was cute, and was eagerly selfish that expressions like these were kept between the two of them. “Tubbo, we just did a few hours ago, I-”
Tubbo could feel the heat push down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. At least he blamed it on the weather instead of his own anxieties. He didn’t want to admit that Ranboo’s obliviousness hurt, because the other boy didn’t mean it. “That’s not what I mean, boss man.”
Ranboo reached down to grasp Tubbo’s hand, and Tubbo lifted his palm up to meet him halfway on instinct. It was nice like this. Without a camera shoved in either of their faces, Tubbo could count the faint bicycle scars that stretched across Ranboo’s hand. His boyfriend always watched the way their fingers slotted together with a fondness that made Tubbo jealous of his own arm. He wanted Ranboo to look at him like that.
They shared another lapse of silence, Ranboo tracing a nonsensical pattern on the back of Tubbo’s palm. “Then-”
“Going outside.” Tubbo repeated, cutting him off and then pausing to collect his thoughts. How was he supposed to word this, exactly? Ranboo squeezed his hand in encouragement. “As-” Tubbo squeezed back in emphasis, “As us.”
“Us?” Ranboo echoed, and they locked eyes again. Ranboo always gushed about the way Tubbo’s eyes changed with the times of day- and right now, they were a pearly grey. They always seemed to mirror each other in more ways than just body language.
“Yeah.”
Tubbo squeezed Ranboo’s hand again, repeating the gesture and waiting patiently as the cogs in his boyfriend’s brain churned. He could almost pinpoint the second it hit him. Ranboo looked like he got dunked in Arctic waters. “Oh.”
His voice shook, and a heart cracked at the sound. Neither of them thought too hard about who was breaking first.
“Sorry.” Tubbo mumbled, tongue in cheek. Guilt crept up his spine and made it curl, bringing his knees closer to his chest. It brought a bit of space between the couple that hurt a lot more than the conversation. “I know you’re not ready, I just- it’s hard.”
Emotions were hard to express properly, and Tubbo would curse himself out if the timing called for it. The clock in the room ticked louder than he thought it could; it felt like a mockery. The grip on Ranboo’s hand loosened. “I want to spend as much as I can with you.”
“I know.” Ranboo tightened his grip to make up for Tubbo’s weaker hold, and someone’s heart lost another chip around the edges.
“I can’t do that if we-” Tubbo hesitated, backtracking. He didn’t want to victimize himself like this and make Ranboo feel worse, but part of him was still impatient and selfish. If the air between them didn’t feel serious, he’d rant about how Twitter shoved them back into the closet. “Are we always going to be stuck like this?”
“I don’t know, Tubbo.” Ranboo never knew what outside the closet looked like, though. Not in the same way that Tubbo did. “I really don’t, actually.”
One of them felt like they were going to cry, and Tubbo straightened his knees back out to their original position. Still holding Ranboo’s hand, he propped himself up on one elbow and half-hovered over his boyfriend. There was a glassy look to his eyes that happened right before tears built up, and he instinctively went to cup Ranboo’s cheek.
Both of their palms pushed against the corner of Ranboo’s jaw, and Tubbo let their hands rest on Ranboo’s chest after the failed attempt at physical comfort.
“You’re not at fault for that.” Tubbo reminded him, mouth twisting into a frown. Ranboo blamed himself for anything he could touch, as long as it involved him in some way. Sure- it got better for a while during their first few weeks, but he was starting to play into the thoughts lately. A lot of their three a.m. topics dealt with heartfelt talks Tubbo wasn’t aware he could stomach.
“If I could just get over-”
“Two way street, Ranboo.” Tubbo looked down at his boyfriend, once again interrupted. “You’re not-” He thought about Twitter- about his Twitch chat, about his friends. What would they say, if they knew the flirting held some weight to it? The latter of the three options would have to be supportive- but what if they weren’t? “Both of us have to be ready.”
“But all I do is pull it back.” Ranboo turns his face back to the ceiling and away from Tubbo, but never lets go. “I promised you.”
“You told me you’d do it when you have the time.”
“All we’ve been doing today is lay around!” He protests, and he sounds angry at himself instead of Tubbo. Frustrated, he raises both hands up in the air and drops them back down with a soft thump of the mattress. “We’ve had plenty of time to just- to just get out there. Rip it off like a band-aid.”
Tubbo’s heart sinks to his stomach, and he wriggles his hand away from Ranboo’s grip. He holds it out in front of his face, as if inspecting for something… different. Something unworthy and gross. “Holding my hand shouldn’t feel like that.”
“Oh- Tubbo.” Anger dissolves into a soft tenderness that bites at Tubbo’s heart until it rises back into his chest again. It was the proclaimed ‘Tubbo voice,’ all gentle and like a blanket tucked around his shoulders. Where Ranboo’s attention was only Tubbo’s to hold, and Tubbo’s alone. “Tubbo, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”
He mimics Tubbo’s hand movement, hovers it close to Tubbo’s own but doesn’t dare touch him just yet. Ranboo always waited for him to make the first move so he wouldn’t get spooked. It was endearing as it was sort of ridiculous. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not really mad, ‘boo.” Tubbo assures him, knocking their wrists together. Maybe not- but it still stung like an open wound. He lays back down beside Ranboo, grabbing one of Ranboo’s hands with both of his own and holding it close to his chest. If they moved an inch to the right, they could feel the way a fragile heart pounds. Instead, their hands move along with Tubbo’s breathing.
“I still-”
“Ranboo.”
Ranboo sucks in a breath, and copies the habit of chewing on his bottom lip. The first step of becoming brave is admitting your fears, but what are you supposed to do when you’re too anxious to even do that? He says it anyway, because Tubbo deserves to know. “I’m scared.”
“I’ll kick them in the balls if they look at you wrong.”
“Hah-” Ranboo chokes out a laugh that’s more of a wheeze than anything else. It’s a ghost of Tubbo’s own, too tired to replicate it fully. The more time they spend around each other, the more they steal parts of their partner that they love the most. For Tubbo, it was the sweater he was still wearing. “Thanks. That’s one worry out of the way.”
He was joking again, which meant he wanted to shift the topic, but Tubbo wouldn’t let him. “What’s the other one?”
“Are you sure?” Ranboo says, and his voice is small. He bunches up his fingers to pick at the skin around his nails, but Tubbo grabs at them and fiddles with each one as a distraction.
“Yep!”
Ranboo takes in a breath, letting out a heavy sigh. He couldn’t hide anything from Tubbo, even if he wanted to. “What if I’m making this up.”
Tubbo makes a noise of acknowledgment in the back of his throat, humming shortly. Something in him expected this to be brought up one way or another. Out of the corner of his eye, Ranboo winces in an apology he doesn’t have to give out. They’re both fragile in different fonts. Tubbo wonders who’ll break first.
“I can- I can make myself feel things, right?” Ranboo continues, but he sounds unsure of himself. As if he’s forcing himself to believe his insecurities. Tubbo wants to shake him. “What if I’m- I’m just leading you on, and it turns out one day that I-”
“Bullshit.” Tubbo snaps, but there’s no malice behind it. Not towards his boyfriend, anyway.
Ranboo starts chewing on his bottom lip again. “Tubbo.”
“Ranboo.” Tubbo echoes the tone, making the other snicker. “I’m serious. Who’s the one who keeps getting us matching hoodies?” He raises both of his hands to grab at Ranboo’s sleeve, toying with some loose threads. Ranboo raises his head just to watch him closer.
He doesn’t say anything yet, so Tubbo decides to continue. “You’ve barely left my side since I saw you at the terminal.”
To be fair, neither of them had strayed too far away from each other. Tommy had to physically drag Tubbo away in order to make content, and Ranboo ended up filming Tubbo ninety percent of the time regardless. The memory was still fresh, and it caused butterflies to push at the edges of Tubbo’s stomach. Ranboo watched his cheeks turn pink.
“You stutter every time you say you love me and it looks like you’re about to cry every fucking time dude.”
Ranboo scoffs, but it’s more out of embarrassment than disbelief. “I do not.”
“I love you.”
“I-” He chokes up, like Tubbo said he would, and always will. It was less about telling it to his partner than the silent admittance to himself; a way of defying the odds his childhood stacked up against him. If Tubbo had said it to him when he was younger, Ranboo would’ve prayed until God let him forgive the way his boy felt in his arms. Now things were different- more free. If a god existed, they pulled the sun down from the heavens just to watch Ranboo burn. “I love you too. So much.”
Tubbo prods at his cheek before any tears can spill, but there’s a fog behind Ranboo’s eyes anyway. “You can’t fake that, boss man.”
“I could, if I really tried.”
“But you’re not.”
“Tubbo.” Ranboo rocks himself forward, pushing himself to a sitting position. The bed creaks under the weight and he scoots backwards until he hits the headboard. Tubbo tries to follow him with his eyes, but cranes his neck to the point it aches and he gets up too. He doesn’t move with Ranboo though. Instead, he twists his body until he’s sitting on the opposite end of the hotel bed.
It feels defeated, when he sighs, but both of them know it wasn’t directed to the space between them. “I know, ‘boo.”
“I wish I could accept it quicker.” Ranboo curls his knees to his chest, folding his body in half mimicking Tubbo from earlier. Guilt crawls up the sleeves of his sweater and it makes him shudder in the dead heat of London. Neither of them are sure what he was talking about: his sexuality, his face, or them . For the sake of Tubbo’s heart, he begged it was one of the former.
It was selfish, and a cruel train of thought. Ranboo deserved someone who could be patient enough not act like- like Tubbo. He raised his hand in front of his face and seemed to stare through it, watching the way Ranboo dips his head to rest on his knees. Even without being able to see his face, Tubbo could hear a heart chip away at its cracks again. It broke his own, and his hand fell limply into his lap.
Tubbo looks at Ranboo, and he sees a little pastel cafe by the sea- tucked away by the boardwalk. Somewhere he was supposed to stay, alone and comfortable, but even an introvert like himself hated being lonely. If Tubbo let his mind wander a little farther, whatever laid ahead was blurred by thoughts of Ranboo. A clouded future that could fit the price tag of a silver band he wouldn’t dare take off his finger if the other would allow it.
“We have an entire life ahead of us, dude.”
Ranboo picks his head up from his knees and peers through a gap in his bangs. Tubbo would crack a joke, if the way Ranboo’s voice trembled didn’t hit him in the gut. “You’d wait that long?”
Tubbo was never one to participate in things like fate, or destiny. Trusting in the make believe meant-to-be was never his style since coincidences were easier to explain away. They held less weight, less importance, and Tubbo felt comfortable in the ordinary. Still… what he and Ranboo had felt everything but normal in a bittersweet type of way. Even if he didn’t believe in fate, Tubbo knew he’d do anything to wake up to his boyfriend. Distance, time, and space across multiverses be damned.
“Fucking forever,” Tubbo promises, crawling over to sit in front of Ranboo’s curled up form, “as long as I get you in the end.”
They reach out for each other at the same time, interlocking their fingers and becoming stagnant for a moment before Tubbo yanks his boyfriend forward. There was enough force behind it to tug Ranboo out of his cocooned posture, their legs bumping against each other as they struggled to accommodate for the proximity.
When they finally settle down- Ranboo laying with his head in Tubbo’s lap- they’re both breathless and Ranboo is smiling. “Hopeless romantic.”
“You’re rubbing off on me.” Tubbo mock-complains, wrinkling his nose and pulling a disgusted face. He bats at Ranboo’s face, who sticks his tongue out. “Gross.”
“Nah, you like it.”
Tubbo puts his hands in Ranboo’s hair, twirling his bangs between his fingers and brushing them away from mossy eyes. The London heat was forgotten in favour of the electricity prickling between their touches. “Maybe so.”
“Just maybe?” Ranboo prompts, and he’s equally sly as he is hesitant. Tubbo rolls his eyes fondly.
“Psh-” He scoffs, deliberately tugging on the hair at the base of Ranboo’s skull. His partner winces, and Tubbo leans down the best he can to press a kiss to his head. “You know what I meant.”
“I do, I do.” Ranboo agrees, nodding and pushing his forehead into his boyfriend’s touch. It’s warm, and gentle, making the itch of anxieties from before melt away. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Ranboo really did have catlike behaviour. “Hey Tubbo?”
“Yeah, boss man.”
Ranboo sighs, reaching out and encasing Tubbo’s hand playing with his hair with his own. Tubbo’s hand stills, buried in his bangs, and Ranboo curls his fingers until they brush against his boyfriend’s palm. He traces a little circle in the middle. It makes Tubbo shudder. “You’re my favourite person.”
“Well,” Tubbo starts, and he has to bite back a giggle at the ticklish sensation of Ranboo’s tracing. “It’s not everyday you meet your soulmate.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in-”
“So did I.” Tubbo agreed. He never really liked the idea of only being meant for one person your whole life. Wouldn’t that make all your efforts- all your crushes and relationships before them mean nothing? He couldn’t stomach the idea of having his life partner being chosen for him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
It meant that the best types of soulmates are the ones you make, not the ones you’re born for. Tubbo wanted to make something with Ranboo- create a space in his future for a guest to stay, not quite alone but at least not lonely anymore. It was true he didn’t believe in soulmates- at least not the conventional way. Still, there had to be a word to describe the feeling of belonging he got whenever they locked eyes. Soulmates never cut it anymore. He didn’t know how to answer that.
Tubbo shrugs, chooses the easy option. “Whatever you want it to, I guess.”
“Even if I-” Ranboo cuts himself off, less due to not wanting to admit it and more because Tubbo already knows what he was going to ask. When they stare at each other, it’s Ranboo who blinks first.
“Yeah.”
Tubbo continues to pet Ranboo's hair until the boy begins to drift off, hands still intertwined. One day, they’d be able to walk outside hand in hand and Tubbo could steal cheek kisses whenever he’d like. Ranboo could spin him around the way he likes to when they hug. For now? It was just between the two of them.