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Wilbur knew a lot about his soulmate while also knowing very little about them. They got very intensely competitive far too often. They didn’t get flustered too often, but when they did, they got really flustered. Their friends must have been hilarious, or maybe they were easily amused. They cried at least once a month- or, least, Wilbur did because of the overwhelming sadness his soulmate was sometimes struck with.
Everyone was born with the ability to feel their soulmate’s extreme emotions. For most people, this affected them only once or twice a week. For Wilbur, it was near daily. His soulmate was emotional, with a capital E and a trademark afterward, and if he was honest, Wilbur probably didn’t treat his soulmate with much more grace. While he wasn’t as competitive, not by a long shot, he knew he was prone to fits of anger and sadness. His friends called him melodramatic.
He preferred calling it ‘justified’.
“Hey drama queen,” Dream greeted when Wilbur entered their Art History lecture, dropping into the seat next to him.
“Right back at you.” He sprawled back in his seat, pulling his phone out to shoot his roommate, Techno, a quick text. Dream leaned closer and he leaned away, kicking at his chair. “Do you mind? Keep your eyes to yourself, asshole.”
“No, I don’t mind.” Dream gave him a toothy grin. Presumably, anyway. All Wilbur could see was his eyes crinkling in the corners with the dust mask perpetually covering his face. “You have an iPhone?”
“Yes? So do you.” Wilbur scoffed, kicking his chair further away.
“You noticed I have an iPhone? I knew you were in love with me.” Dream swooned back in his chair, holding the back of his hand to his forehead. Wilbur choked down a laugh.
“I keep telling you this, you’re just pretending I don’t so you can toil in your own pining for me.” Wilbur flipped his hair back, his chest warming with amusement, and Dream let out that wheeze that always made his heart flutter.
Okay, so maybe Wilbur wasn’t fully lying when he said he was in love with Dream. The two had a distinctive flirtationship that was marked mostly by their passive-aggressive back and forth, teasing and toeing what most people would consider over the line. It was fun to them, to Wilbur at least. He loved matching wits with Dream, looked forward to every class they had together so that the two could whisper insults and compliments to each other and ignore their lessons entirely.
It didn’t mean anything though, and so for all of Wilbur’s more genuine compliments, he made sure to add a slew of jabs to keep them distant. No matter how handsome Dream was, how soft his hair looked, how pretty his eyes were, Wilbur wasn’t letting himself fall down that well. None of this meant anything to Dream, so it wouldn’t mean anything to him.
“Do you have GamePigeon?” Dream asked, his heel starting to bounce underneath their shared desk. “Please say yes, Sapnap has been refusing to play with me all day and it’s making me go insane.”
Wilbur hoped that his soulmate was like Dream, though, even if it couldn’t be him. He assumed they were, from the many competitive spikes. Dream’s melodrama always reminded him of his soulmate, and after a few months of them talking, his soulmate started reminding him of Dream in turn. He navigated through his phone, checking his App Store.
“I… do, yes. I can’t say I’ve ever used it though, I played my younger brother in it once then never touched it again.” Wilbur shrugged, looking back up at Dream. “Are you gonna ask me to play you?”
“What did you play?”
“8ball,” Wilbur answered. Within a few seconds, his phone buzzed with a text. Dream had sent him an invitation to play 8ball.
That kickstarted a very long day for Wilbur. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Dream kept sending him game invites, even as they parted after their lecture. Wilbur kept accepting and playing him, even though he really should have been focusing on his classes because of course, it was Dream. Wilbur was absolutely enamored with the man’s odd quirks and rampant competitiveness. If Dream was going to keep playing him, then Wilbur was going to keep rising to the occasion. He had gone too far now to step down. If Dream was stubborn, then Wilbur was a mule or… something clever like that. As much as he wanted to think of something worthy of his English major, there was a growing feeling of frustration in his chest that didn’t belong to himself, his soulmate distracting him as always.
Wilbur was proving to be really good at GamePigeon’s archery game. He struck another bullseye, smirking to himself as the move sent, flashing with ‘YOU WON!’ and Dream started typing without hesitation. His soulmate’s frustration seemed to swell in time with Dream’s texting, nearly cutting through Wilbur’s smug satisfaction.
green boi: YOU ARE SICK. I HATE YOU
That helped the smugness win out.
wiblur: Sorry for being better than you :)
green boi: DONT STEAL MY BRANDING OR IM GONNA START WEARING BEANIES IN YOUR PRESENCE
wiblur: You’re cute when you’re mad
He almost didn’t notice the phantom butterflies fluttering in his stomach after that message, too caught up on his own anxious queasiness. Almost.
The timing was too perfect to dismiss outright. Was it most likely a coincidence that his soulmate got flustered after Wilbur sent that message? Yes. However, the mounting frustration beforehand lined up perfectly with Dream’s texts as well. He stared at his phone screen as his last text sat on read, the butterflies dying down as he finally got a response
green boi: you’re a dick
The timing was so exact. Wilbur bit his lip, considering ways to test this theory.
wiblur: Play me again?
That competitive edge that never belonged to him surged up in him as Dream immediately sent another round of archery. Interesting. Wilbur pulled back the tiny digital arrow, letting it fly a few times without much thought. They landed scattered around the target. He sent the round to Dream, raising an eyebrow when the feeling in his gut subsided too much for him to read into.
green boi: you better not be throwing so I win
wiblur: Oh no, you caught me :/ I didn’t wanna deal with your bitching anymore.
A wave of annoyance, deep in his stomach. Wilbur smirked.
green boi: YOU ARE THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR A REMATCH
wiblur: Only to be a gentleman
green boi: im gonna kick your ass I swear to god wil
wiblur: Wil? Getting awfully familiar here, Mr. Wastaken
green boi: you are so annoying
wiblur: Can you play me back already? You’re doing an awful job of kicking my ass
Another crash of annoyance. The only thing keeping Wilbur from fully snickering was the fact that he was in the middle of a lecture on Greek mythology. Techno, diligently taking notes by his side, threw him an odd look at the repressed pfft he let out.
“Are you taking notes? At all?” he asked, voice low and quiet, and Wilbur shook his head. “May I ask why?”
“I’m texting Dream,” Wilbur replied. The withering but unsurprised look he got in return nearly pushed him over the edge, letting out a strangled yelp of a laugh before throwing his hand over his mouth. His professor looked up at him dryly and he choked through another fit of laughter, sliding down in his seat.
“Is something funny, Wilbur?” their professor asked and he shook his head, fast enough for his hair to fly into his eyes.
“Nothing! Sorry, remembered something my brother said to me! I’ll be quiet.” He mimed zipping his lips shut and his professor sighed, turning back to the board. When he looked back down, his phone was gone, confiscated into Techno’s backpack.
“You’ll get it back at the end of the day,” Techno whispered, a grin tugging on his lips as Wilbur pouted. Wilbur wasn’t sure if the disappointment rolling over him was his own or his soulmate’s.
The rest of the day passed slowly. Wilbur didn’t have many classes and he had already been halfway through the day, but the two he had left seemed to last forever. A sickly feeling of regret filled him more and more with every minute. Now, he was sure that was his soulmate, a realization that made him a bit ill.
What had happened to make them feel so awful?
He wasn’t unfamiliar with his soulmate’s sour moods, spiraling and deep. It just sucked to feel them when he had that creeping suspicion that it had something to do with him.
It was hard to believe his own theories when he was being forcefully dragged into self-loathing, but he had to focus on logic. His soulmate’s ever extreme moods had followed Dream’s actions rather closely today. Thinking back, they honestly always seemed to. If only he could trace a reason as to why Dream would be feeling like shit now. Maybe he lost their game of archery, but somehow, Wilbur didn’t think the feeling of shame would last this long.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” a voice cut into his thought process and he turned around to see who was about to get in a fight. Nothing like watching classmates duke it out to cheer him up. He looked just in time to see Quackity’s fist crash into his jaw, causing him to stumble back with a pained groan. “I know you’re a little bitch but this is a lot, dude.”
Thank God it was Quackity and not someone who could actually throw a punch. Sapnap probably would’ve broken something. Wilbur squeezed his eyes shut, pressing down on his jaw.
“You’re not even gonna fight back? Jesus Christ. Who knew you were such a coward. Come on, Wil, look at me. Come on.” Quackity huffed and Wilbur rubbed the sore spot gently, waiting for his friend to continue.
“What did I do to deserve that?” he asked after a moment, realizing Quackity wasn’t going to speak again until he answered. He cracked one eye open, wincing at the realization that George had joined them with his arms crossed.
“What do you think?” George asked, raising an eyebrow, and Wilbur just blinked at him. George was far from emotional, Wilbur knew that, but it was still alarming to see how flat his expression was. He felt like a scolded child.
“Uh… did I forget to do a project or something?” His thoughts scrambled to think of anything he did recently to warrant this, but the deep-rooted regret was making it hard for him to think straight. He almost wanted to just drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. His pride pointed out that he couldn’t think of anything he did wrong.
“You’re such an idiot,” Quackity scoffed. “You can’t be real right now. Fucking text Dream back, don’t leave him on read like some jackass.”
Wilbur blinked again.
“Techno took my phone. What did Dream text me? Last thing I saw was him calling me annoying.”
The two men stared at him, the silence stretching out as Quackity’s face paled with guilt and George frowned, trying to read Wilbur’s expression. They eventually glanced at each other, seeming to communicate silently with over-the-top facial expressions. It was sort of funny, or would be if Wilbur wasn’t so lost.
“Is Dream like, okay? Did something happen?”
“Come with us,” George said instead of answering, grabbing Wilbur’s wrist and pulling him away.
“I haven’t even gotten my phone back from Techno yet,” he whined as Quackity started pushing him from behind, forcing him to follow the path that George dictated.
“Oh, boohoo. Suck it up, we’re fixing this.”
He let the two guide him to their dorm, Quackity struggling with the lock until Karl swung the door open from the inside. He made eye contact with Wilbur first, blinking at him curiously. Wilbur winced, ready for another over-protective fifth of their group to start yelling at him.
“It was a misunderstanding, wasn’t it?” Karl asked. George nodded and Karl beamed, turning and darting into the apartment. “Sapnap, you owe me dinner!”
“What?”
“Karl was the only one who had faith in you,” Quackity said, starting to shove him through the dorm apartment. Wilbur could see Karl shoving Sapnap in the living room-kitchen combo, then Quackity turned him down a hallway where the bedrooms, presumably, were.
“Hey! I said something probably came up,” George argued, following them down the hall, and Quackity snorted.
“And then you went ‘but Wilbur does always text Dream back stupidly fast,’ and then Dream started crying.”
“Dream was crying?!”
“Ask him yourself.” George scooted in front of them, opening a door that led to a thoroughly decorated triple. Dream looked up from where he was sat on his bed, a jolt of alarm stabbing into Wilbur’s chest, then the door slammed shut behind him.
They stared at each other for a moment, quiet. Dream looked away first, something Wilbur was grateful for. He didn’t like the red-rimmed eyes he was faced with. It was also odd to see him without his mask on, like something he wasn’t meant to be shown.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or if the guys were like, dicks to you. You didn’t have to come,” Dream said.
“Dream, I-“
“No, it’s fine,” Dream cut him off, dramatic as ever as he pushed his hair back with one hand. Wilbur rolled his eyes, knowing the other wasn’t looking at him, and settled against another bed to let him monologue. “I know it was a stupid question and it was probably really out of nowhere. Honestly, super invasive too. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
He fell silent, finally, and Wilbur spoke.
“Techno took my phone, I have no idea what you sent me.”
“Oh.” Dream flushed a bright red and a fresh dig of anxiety buried itself in Wilbur’s stomach. Somehow, even with the self-doubt still emanating off of Dream, Wilbur was pretty sure he was right.
God, he was stupid to not realize this earlier. No shit, his soulmate was similar to Dream. He was Dream.
“What did you say? No one’s actually let me know,” Wilbur asked and Dream buried his face in his knees. He mumbled an answer, muffled by his knees and the blonde waves covering his face, and Wilbur snickered. “Sorry, what was that, handsome?”
“You’re so- oh my God.” Dream tilted his head, his cheek pressing into his knee. It was a cute visual. “Do you think we’re soulmates? I like, have been noticing for ages that sometimes, stuff you do lines up with what my soulmate is feeling. And today when we were playing those games, I got this like, feeling of such smugness and you were lording your fucking archery skills over me, and I just sorta thought, like…”
“That it made sense,” Wilbur finished. Dream nodded and he tilted his head. “Well, Dream, I’ll give you a small rundown of my day. Most of the day, ever since you challenged me to those stupid iMessage games, my soulmate has been super competitive. Then I kept winning archery, and they got so frustrated it was stupid. Then I got my phone confiscated and my soulmate started feeling upset, so upset they were practically sick and I almost cried in my last class of the day.”
“Oh,” Dream said, almost guiltily, and Wilbur snickered.
“So tell me, my dear, does that timeline roughly line up with how you’ve been feeling today?” Wilbur asked. There was a storm of butterflies in his stomach at the pet name as Dream’s cheeks colored red. “You’ve been flustering easily today.”
“Shut- shut up, you are so annoying. Oh my God.” Dream dropped his head back onto his knees. “Yeah. That follows my day pretty accurately.”
“Well, I guess that’s our answer then!” Wilbur laughed brightly. He hopped to his feet, walking over to Dream’s bed and sitting next to him. The other man glanced up at him, just enough to be noticeable, and Wilbur wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull them together. “Can I know exactly what you texted me now?”
“It’s really embarrassing,” Dream murmured even as he started fishing around his covers for his phone. “You’ll read it anyway though, I guess.”
cute guy in art history: Can you play me back already? You’re doing an awful job of kicking my ass
Dream: just fucking watch me
Dream: [Archery]
Dream: fuck
Dream: you’re such a dick sometimes, wilbur, I really should kiss that annoying smirk I KNOW you’re wearing rn off your face
Dream: maybe I’m insane but my soulmate feels so smug and amused rn and all I can do is picture that it’s you. which is kinda stupid to type but whatever I’m not thinking logically right now
Dream: wil are you gonna respond?
Dream: it was a joke I’m sorry
Wilbur read the texts a couple of times, processing them slowly. His arm was still slung around Dream’s shoulders.
“You’re right, these are embarrassing. You sound like an emotionally repressed love interest.”
“Shut up,” Dream grumbled and Wilbur grinned.
“You have me saved as ‘cute guy in art history’? We literally met as freshmen. You’ve had my number for two years now.”
“Do you not know what shut up means?” Dream grabbed his phone back, tossing it aside with a roll of his eyes. “It was a joke. Shut up.”
“You know, you could kiss me and wipe this smirk off my face. You seemed pretty insistent on wanting to,” Wilbur teased. There was a beat as Dream looked at him, scanning his face for any sign that it was a joke. Wilbur raised his eyebrows.
He wasn’t surprised at all when Dream pulled him down into a kiss, pleased to return the kiss just as enthusiastically. He felt happy warmth blooming in his chest, a feeling he knew was coming from him just as much as it was his soulmate.