Chapter Text
Wilbur laid on his bed, bored out of his mind, as he listened to Phil’s stream. He wasn’t sure why he had even opened Twitch, when usually this kind of mood would make him despise the vaguest concept of social interaction, including just hearing someone’s voice.
Today it was almost calming, relieving him of his mental turmoil like cool cream spread on a burn.
Then he felt an itch on his arm, and sat up with a scowl. He pressed his hand against the glimmering vein, as though that would stop it from causing mild discomfort whenever it felt like it.
On his wrist, at the end of the blue streak, was a little symbol - one that was meant to represent your soulmate. If you had more than one, they’d be combined, but there was really no way to tell. He re-examined the little pink feather, as though he’d suddenly recognise who it resembled.
That’d be stupid though. He probably hadn’t met his soulmate anyways.
Through his shitty earphones, he heard Phil let out a soft gasp in shock and look down at his forearm. Phil stared down for a moment, not touching his arm purposely, before saying softly,
“Sorry, chat, I’ll have to wrap up the stream in fifteen minutes or so.” The word soulmate was never mentioned, but Wilbur heard the unspoken meaning and stiffened slightly. He swung his feet hesitantly over the edge of the bed, picking up his phone to glance down at the screen.
Wilbur had touched his arm, and Phil had reacted ten seconds later. When you factor in the stream lag… no. That couldn’t be true, right? He was jumping to conclusions.
Wilbur sat on his bed, mind in complete shock for a moment. A pink feather. It might just be discoloured, and the feather… fucking crowfather? He looked over it as though for the first time.
“If that’s a crow feather, I’m gonna lose my shit.” he spoke aloud, to an empty room. There was no response.
After a pause, Wilbur hesitantly placed pressure on his forearm and counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven.
Phil looked down at his arm in confusion once again, eyebrows furrowed in what could pass as concern.
Wilbur let go of the hold and counted once again, heart beginning to pound. After another eleven seconds, Phil looked at his arm and nodded softly, as the sensation must’ve stopped.
His breath picked up speed. Wilbur dragged himself from his bed and towards his computer, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders as he went. He collapsed into his gamer chair and opened Discord, spamming Phil immediately.
Sand idiot 15:27
phil
hpil
phil
Sand idiot 15:28
Can we talk once you’ve ended stream
philllll
Dadza 15:28
sure mate I’m about to wrap up
you right?
Sand idiot 15:28
yea just wanna talk
Dadza 15:29
k no worries
Wilbur put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut with a rush of… something. Anger? No, that wasn’t right. Fuck.
He didn’t realise that Phil had ended the stream until his computer screen lit up.
Dadza is calling…
Wilbur bit his lip anxiously, sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair before answering. “Hi, Phil.”
“Oh, hey mate, what’s up?” The loading symbol came up and gave way for Phil’s face, smiling but etched with concern.
“Ummm…” Wilbur’s mind conveniently drew a blank. How the fuck was one meant to break it to him that his soulmate could be a twenty-four year old dropout?
He hated how understanding the older man was, head tilted to the side and mouth quirked up in reassurance.
“Okay, I know this is a really personal question,” he began, very obviously babbling. Like a dam broken, the words poured out of him. “And I’m really sorry if you don’t want to answer, because I know that we aren’t really close enough for me to be enquiring about it, and I’ll just fuck off if you want me to, but-”
“Wilbur,” Phil interrupted gently. “Just ask me, and I can tell you if it’s too much. Yeah?”
Wilbur drew in a breath, unsure when the tear had dripped from his eye. He wiped it away, completely overwhelmed by every emotion inside of him. “What’s your soulmark?” he finally blurted.
Phil recoiled slightly in shock, but didn’t look disgusted or annoyed. He hesitated before responding softly, “It’s strange, just a little pink whale.”
Teeth digging into his bottom lip, Wilbur wiped away another unshed tear. “I have a pink feather,” he managed to choke out. “And I think it’s meant to be a mix of things, and the feather should be black like a crow’s.” He waited a second for the words to sink in before continuing,
“I was feeling like shit today, and I was listening to your stream, and I felt someone press on my arm and eleven seconds later you felt someone press on your arm, so I tried touching my arm and holding down and then you reacted again, and I’m really sorry that-”
“Wilbur.” Phil cut him off again, a million unreadable emotions crammed into his voice. He cleared his throat. “Can you look up at me, mate?”
Clenching his jaw, Wilbur glanced up through his bangs - and his eyes widened in shock.
Phil was beaming at the camera, eyes sparkling with uncontainable joy. “I - are you actually saying that we’re soulmates?”
Unable to form a response, Wilbur just nodded uncertainly. “I think so,” he whispered, voice cracking.
A silence settled over them, snow on a cold morning, before Phil’s voice broke through like the warm sun. “Wilbur, trust me when I say I could never be happier than in this exact moment.”
Wilbur pressed a hand against his mouth, all of his emotions banging around in his head. He breathed in deeply, rattling his chest. “You aren’t disappointed?”
“Not even a little bit, Wilbur, holy shit. This- wow. I’m really fucking glad its you and not some random arsehole.”
Wilbur cracked a small smile, releasing a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, we still haven’t figured out where the pink colouring comes from.”
“True,” Phil conceded. He paused, staring down at the blue vein once again. “Do you wanna meet up? Turn this shit silver?”
Wilbur’s face was blank at first, before a grin split it wide open. “Fuck yeah.”
“Fuck yeah,” Phil echoed. They laughed, giddy off the high of finding a soulmate.
Six days later, Wilbur leant against a wall in the town centre, scrolling through shit on his phone. Nothing much, honestly, he was just trying to do something with his hands to quiet the chaotic thoughts that threw their weight around in his head.
Spoiler: It wasn’t working.
After fifteen minutes, just as he was starting to grow restless, Wilbur tensed, feeling eyes on him. He looked up and made eye contact with Phil from across the courtyard before completely freezing.
He had no idea how to react. Did he walk towards him? Just wait for him? Fucking shit why does socialisation even exist.
Thankfully, one of the pair at least vaguely understood how to interact with human beings, and Phil had already made his way over. The older man's grin was so wide it must’ve been somewhat painful, but he looked like he couldn’t stop smiling if he tried.
“Can I hug you?” Phil asked, obviously toning himself down as he recognised his friend’s panic.
Wilbur smiled at the question, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Phil, letting himself be swallowed in the embrace. It would be a strange sight, seeing a grown man curl into the arms of someone much shorter if you didn’t know of the close relationship between the two.
As they held each other, a gentle warmth bloomed in Wilbur’s arm. If he wasn’t paying attention, he might not have noticed it, but as he did it felt like bathing in sunlight. The sensation spread across his body and wrapped around him almost protectively, like a barrier from his constant anxieties.
It felt like coming home. He hadn’t felt so safe in a long time.
It had taken a remarkably long time for them to pull away, and when they did, neither of them could fight down their unmistakable joy. Finding a soulmate was said by many to be the highlight of your life, to create such a feeling that nothing else could ever come close to imitating, and honestly?
He had no intention to doubt that.
As they sat in a cafe drinking various beverages, the sun slowly dipping past the horizon and casting light across the sky, Wilbur stared at the sunset with a slight frown.
Okay but what if the sunset is just the sun fucking dying and being really dramatic? (He thought meaningfully.) Is the sun a theatre kid? Like Apollo is defo a theatre kid but what about the sun itself? I guess it does light up every room it walks into… oh my fucking goodness the sun is hundred percent a theatrekid.
“Do you think we'll find them soon?” Phil asked softly, breaking through his thoughts. “The other...”he nodded to his arm.
Wilbur redirected his attention to his friend. His soulmate. The term made him smile before responding, “I’m not sure, to be totally honest. We’ll get them eventually, but not immediately I shouldn’t think.”
Phil hummed in agreement. He placed down his drink gingerly and moved his hand to the wrapping on his left arm - it was strange to see someone without it. He peeled it off softly, re-examining his veins, which now had traces of silver mingling with the blue. When all of the soulmates found each other, it’d be entirely silver.
Because the vein had been blue, Phil had never worried about dating or marrying Kristen or anything like that. He’d always known that it was a platonic connection that he would find.
As a kid, he’d heard stories of people who had come home one day and their arm was a glimmering silver, stories of people who had never found their loved one.
Stories of people who had found and lost, whose soulmarks had gone black, who were doomed to live alone and mourning for a relationship they’d never get back. Phil shivered, trying to drag his thoughts away from that.
“Yeah, probably.” he conceded quietly.
Wilbur tilted his head at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Phil hesitated, then forced a smile. “It’s fine.”
With a roll of his eyes, Wilbur leaned forwards and pressed his finger down on Phil’s nose. “Boop,” he deadpanned. “What’s wrong?”
Phil batted away the hand. “Nothing, I don’t know. Just, fuckin’,” he waved his hands around, as though that’d explain everything. “You know?”
Wilbur nodded, withdrawing his finger. “I kinda get what you mean. It’s very surreal.”
“Yeah,” Phil closed his eyes and thunked his forehead into the table. He received a pat on the head.
“We’ll figure it out,” Wilbur promised. “I don’t pretend to know how, but we will.”
Phil sighed deeply through his nose, still smushed against the table. “Thank you,” he spoke softly.
Wilbur cracked a grin. “No worries, Phil.”
Two bros, platonically watching the sunset, five feet apart because they’re not gay (and also one of them is married and the age gap is more than a decade).
To Wilbur’s surprise, it didn’t take a long time for them to figure out the third member. You as an omniscient reader have probably (hopefully) read the summary of this book, and due to my not-so-subtle foreshadowing, will have figured out the mediocre attempt of a plot twist later in the story.
However, the characters do not have your view of things, so shut the fuck up and let the dramatic irony do it’s thing
Exactly twenty-seven days later, Phil was streaming and Wilbur was donating TTS to talk about his opinions on how delicious human bones look. As you do.
Just as another donation came through, (‘But seriously, doesn’t that look like a roast marshmallow to you? You can’t see me but I’m fucking salivating’) Phil cursed suddenly and glanced down at his arm. He still wore the bandage as everyone did, covering up his soulmate, so nobody had noticed his suddenly silver-flicked veins.
Watching the stream, Wilbur pressed a hand to his arm to notify him that he’d felt the pain as well.
Their third soulmate must’ve been freaking out, despite neither of them having felt anything. Usually when anyone got upset, there was a building amount of pain, just a small prick. This time, Wilbur hadn’t felt anything leading up to it, a sudden stabbing like somebody had drawn a knife on him.
Phil ended his stream pretty quickly after that, calling Wilbur as soon as he was done.
“Did you-?”
“It wasn’t me,” Wilbur responded, biting the inside of his cheek. “I pressed on your arm after, but I’m not the one who’s causing the pain.”
Phil opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by the ringing of his phone. He glanced down, eyes widening slightly in realisation. “Techno never calls me by my actual number.” he noted with slight suspicion.
The implication didn’t slip past Wilbur. “Just answer it, if it’s him he needs help.”
Phil nodded and muted himself on Discord, answering the call and bringing his phone to his ear. Wilbur watched anxiously as concern poured itself over his features, and shit, he recognised that look - that was the ‘try to act calm, they’re having a panic attack, just coax them through it.’
What felt like hours later, Phil placed down his phone. He unmuted in Discord and mumbled, “Gimme a sec…”
“Phil, is Techno…?” Wilbur started, but it quickly became clear that he didn’t know where the sentence was going.
There was the tell-tale chime of someone being added to the call.
Wilbur smiled in relief, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. “Hey, Tech. You right?”
The loading symbol came up and was replaced by Techno’s facecam. His face was buried in his knees and he lifted his head slightly, trying for a (pained) smile. “S’fine. Just panicked over some small shit, don’t worry.”
“It’s not small if it hurts you,” Wilbur responded firmly. They sat in silence for a few moments.
At some point Wilbur had peeled off his arm covering, the constant compression being too much when added to the pain from Techno’s mind.
Well, he assumed it was Techno’s mind.
It had to be, right?
“Mate,” Phil asked gently, hesitating over his words. There was no easier way to say this, so he took a deep breath and blurted, “Can you touch your soulmark?”
Techno’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. He knew that they wouldn’t ask without good reason, he knew what the most likely motivation behind that question was. He placed a hand on his forearm gingerly.
Wilbur inhaled sharply, feeling the phantom touch of a hand on his arm, then felt his face split into a grin. “Holy shit.”
Techno let his legs drop to the ground, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Guys, if you’re shitting me, I might actually scream.”
Phil shook his head, a light dancing in his eyes. “I’m not, I promise, look-” he took his own pulse, feeling it race beneath his thumb, and saw Techno’s jaw drop.
“...holy fuck.”
“You haven’t sworn like this in a while,” Wilbur noticed.
Techno stared at the camera. “First of all, I didn’t want to be fucking demonotized, and second of all, holy fucking shit.”
“That about sums it up, yeah.” Phil smiled at his computer before bursting out into laughter. “Oh my gosh, what are the odds that three of us are minecraft streamers?”
“What are the odds that three of us have no lives,” Techno deadpanned.
“Potato, potahto,” Phil waved a hand in dismissal. “Besides, I have a wife, dude! I feel like that counts as having a life.”
“Mm, no.” Wilbur decided.
“Like, no that doesn’t count as having a life, or-?”
“No, wives aren’t real.” His voice took on a familiar, airy tone.
“Fuck, not again-” Phil groaned, laughing again a moment later. The other two couldn’t help but follow, even though there wasn’t anything that was funny enough to warrant that reaction. It was just a moment of emotional high, a giddiness that brought them all back to high school.
Five minutes later, Techno was booking a plane ticket.
If Tommy was completely honest, he’d tell you that he was watching Chuckle Sandwich for the billionth time when Wilbur messaged him. However, he’s a lying little shit, so he’d probably just shrug and say ‘nothing much’.
So there he was, wondering if he’d rather have unlimited bacon and no games, or games, unlimited games, but no games. These are the unanswered questions in life.
A notification came up on his phone - from Wilbur. In messages. That may not sound strange to some, but Wilbur had very deliberately told Tommy not to text his direct number, so it was kind of understandable that he immediately sat up straight and clicked it.
Dickheadbur 11:54
hey tom we’re doing a sbi meetup, wanna join
Tommy choked on thin air at the sudden declaration, yanking out his headphones and typing out a response. His hands shook.
Gremlininnit 11:54
wait wtf
when
id love to but
????
Dickheadbur 11:55
this saturday
Gremlininnit 11:56
that’s two days away
Dickheadbur 11:56
yea
I can pick you up on the way to the airport
we’ll meet phil and tech there
stay at my place for a week
You can stay over for a couple night if ur allowed but idk youd hve to ask
Gremlininnit 11:59
sure my parents are chill with it
holy fuck wait
like this is genuine right???
Dickheadbur 12:00
ok phew that scared me
you took a while to respond
yea it real
my grammar is devolve
Gremlininnit 12:00
when tf did you organise this
Dickheadbur 12:00
like
an hour ago?
Gremlininnit 12:01
your a fuking wanker
Dickheadbur 12:01
aight fuck off stop messaging my number
Gremlininnit 12:02
wait so what are we doing
Dickheadbur 12:02
ill pick you up ten-ish and explain then
Gremlininnit 12:02
k pog
Tommy paused, put down the phone, then grinned so hard his face hurt. “Holy shit.” He mumbled to an empty house, unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled out of him.
One stream, thirteen total hours of sleep and miraculously no mental breakdowns later, Tommy sent out a tweet.
Tommyinnit (@tommyinnit)
no streams for a few days bois
Wilbur Soot (@WilburSoot)
no streams for a few days bois
Ph1lzA (@Ph1lzA)
no streams for a few days bois
Technoblade (@technothepig)
no streams for a few days bois
Velvet (@cakeiguess)
tf does this mean???
Gogyowo (@preciousbb)
sbi meetup??? Pog???
Tommy grinned down at the responses flooding in, moving to pick up his backpack with deceiving storage space. He checked that he had everything - toothbrush, clothes, charger, PJs.
As he stood there in his room, the doorbell rang. Smile only growing wider, he zipped up the navy blue bag and slung it over his shoulders before bounding down the stairs, finding Wilbur at the door chatting with his mother.
Wilbur straightened up from where he was petting Betty and his face lit up. “Hey Tom! Sorry for the short notice, we decided to do this really spontaneously.” He walked over and gave Tommy a side-hug, flicking his forehead at the same time.
Tommy elbowed him in retaliation, squirming out of his hold as though he hadn’t been leaning into it a moment ago. “That’s such a long word, why the fu-” he glanced at his mother. “-udge are you such a nerd?”
MotherInnit rolled her eyes. “Nice save. Look after my boy, William,” she threatened, pulling Tommy into a hug.
Tommy grumbled under his breath but returned it nonetheless, hunching over to be smaller. “I can look after myself.”
MotherInnit laughed. “Oi! Tom, who taught you to fuckin’ lie?”
“Wha-” Tommy pulled back and gaped at her. “You did, first of all, and second, why the fuck can you swear and I can’t?” he whined.
“Swearing is for grown-ups,” Wilbur grinned, ruffling his hair. “Is that bag all you have?”
“Uhhh, wait a sec…” Tommy weaved around his mother and into the lounge room, returning with his arms full of the softest blanket you’ll ever find. “Yep. This is it.”
“He’s a very light packer,” MotherInnit filled Wilbur in. “Usually forgets to bring a towel, though.”
“Oh, shit,” Tommy cursed, shoving the blanket towards Wilbur and dashing off again.
Wilbur grunted as he grabbed the blanket. “Oh, is this weighted?” he gave a small nod of approval, the action almost subconscious.
“His father and I are really jealous, he doesn’t let us borrow it. Consider yourself lucky you can even hold it.”
Wilbur grinned before shouting up the stairs, “Hurry up, child, we’re gonna be late!”
“Your fookin’ fault for inviting me,” Tommy yelled back, then came bounding back downstairs. “Alright, let’s just leave before I realise I forgot anything else.”
“You are forgetting something,” MotherInnit noted.
“Huh- what, what now?” he whined, desperate to leave and get there faster.
“You haven’t given me a goodbye kiss yet.”
Again grumbling in annoyance, Tommy moved forwards and pecked his mother’s cheek. “Bye, Mum.”
She smiled sadistically at his embarrassment. “Just text when you wanna be picked up, no more than a week up there, yeah?”
“Yup, let’s just fuckin’ leave-” Tommy started pushing Wilbur out of the door, then paused and kneeled down to scratch Betty and Walter. “You’re the best people in this house,” he told the dogs firmly, before standing and resuming shoving Wilbur out.
Wilbur laughed and called over his shoulder, “Thanks for letting us steal him.”
MotherInnit waved goodbye. “Hurt him, you fucking die!” she called, tone cheery and light.
“Thanks for the tip.”
Tommy shut the door behind them. “You act so fucking different when you talk to adults,” his muffled voice came through the door.
Wilbur’s laugh could be heard. “Maybe I just talk differently to you, gremlin.”
“If that’s how you normally talk, I’m a monkey’s aunt.”
“Isn’t the saying a monkey’s uncle?”
“Yeah, but an aunt is more unrealistic, so I figured…” their voices trailed off.
MotherInnit rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips. “Fuckin’ twats, the two of them.”
Take a little guess where Tommy got his swearing problem from.
Tommy left his shit in the car when they stepped out into the airport, except for the mask that he pulled on.
“Alright, stick with me,” Wilbur ordered, also sliding on his mask. “If I lose you, your mother might kill me.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Tommy agreed. He paused, realising, before chasing after his friend. “Wait, I’m not a child Wilbur!”
Wilbur rolled his eyes.
Despite Tommy’s fake annoyance, he stayed glued to Wilbur’s side the whole time, hand pressing lightly on Wilbur’s shoulder blade to ensure that they didn’t lose each other. Wilbur smiled despite himself at the small gesture.
Wilbur paused partway through a sentence to check his buzzing phone. “Alright, they’re at Terminal Fourty-two, let’s go - umm, Tommy, I kind of have something I should’ve told you earlier.”
Instantly noticing his serious tone, Tommy took Wilbur’s elbow and led him to a quieter (still fucking loud, but quieter) corner of the airport.
“What’s up?”
Wilbur chewed nervously on his lip, making Tommy frown in concern. That was never a good sign. “If you don’t wanna tell me you don’t have to, man.”
“No, I want to, I just dunno how.”
Tommy inclined his head at the words, hair falling slightly over his eyes. The sympathetic anxiety was still evident on his features.
“We’re - soulmates,” Wilbur blurted finally. Seeing the flash of confusion over Tommy’s face he hurried to elaborate, “Me, Techno, Phil. Just found out really recently, uh, and I’ve met up with Phil but not Techno yet. This is the first time all three of us are going to be here together.”
“You-” Tommy was at a loss for words. “Soulmates?” He glanced over his shoulder as though making sure nobody was filming them, which was honestly a valid concern for someone as famous as them. “Wilbur, why the fuck am I here?”
Wilbur paused, thrown off by the question. “Umm, because… four out of four Sleepy Bois? Twitter’s gonna blow up.”
Tommy gaped at him. “Wil. Having good content is not worth anything that can interrupt you meeting your soulmates! Dude, seriously, I’ll go wait in the car or some shit. I’m not gonna intrude on your moment.”
“No, Tommy-” Wilbur reached out and grabbed his arm desperately. Tommy stiffened, staring down at where they made contact.
Wilbur retracted his hand immediately as he realised that he’d touched Tommy’s soulmark. It wasn’t considered taboo to do so, but it was the kind of thing that you only did when you were on close terms with them. The pair might’ve been good friends, but they’d never talked on the matter before.
“I want you to be here,” he finished, arms dropping to his side. The tips of his ears were slightly red as he glared at the ground. “Please.”
Tommy rubbed at the blue bandage that he wore over his arm, trying for a reassuring smile. “Of course, Wilbur. As long as you’re sure.”
“Very,” Wilbur confirmed. He hesitated. “Sorry for grabbing your arm.”
Tommy glanced up in shock, obviously not expecting him to bring it up again. He shrugged, hand still pressed against his own forearm. “S’fine. Just caught me off-guard is all.”
Wilbur nodded, not completely believing the words, but focusing on something behind Tommy before he could comment. “Oh, shit, they came and found us! Tommy, my anxiety is fucking spiking.”
“You’ll be alright, Wil.” Tommy moved to soothe, trying to shove away his own doubts to help his friend. “You already know them really well online, and if you’re soulmates - not that I’m saying you aren’t or anything - then you’re meant to just instantly... click.”
At any other moment, Wilbur might’ve noticed the tremor in his friend’s voice. He might’ve seen the poorly concealed fidgeting when soulmates were brought up, might’ve wondered for a moment why Tommy suddenly looked so afraid.
Instead, he nodded again to reassure himself and moved to greet his soulmates.
Tommy lagged behind, taking deep breaths. He was happy for them, make no mistake. It just took a bit of time to weed out all negative thoughts and let the joyful ones take over his mind. By the time he was done, the other three had already sorted out their soulmate-y shit, so he went up to them with a sheepish grin.
A little out of character from him, but they seemed to understand. Tommy gave Phil a quick hug before turning to the other familiar face. He did awkward finger guns and ignored the snickering from behind him, unsure of where they stood in terms of physical contact. “Techno, my man, Big T, T money, how’s it going?”
Techno rolled his eyes (fondly) before stepping forwards and hugging Tommy. It was short, just a sweet embrace, before he pulled back.
Tommy let him move away, shooting him a grateful smile. He knew that Techno had an aversion to extended touch, so as much as he’d like to melt into one of his closest friends’ embrace, he didn’t stay for long.
Techno grinned. “Hey, nerd.”
“Hey, dickhead.” Tommy responded sharply, also beaming. He paused. “But seriously, what the fuck? You’re soulmates?”
“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with an almost apologetic expression. “Wil and I figured it out about a month back, and Techno - literally a week ago.”
“You gonna call him Dave now?” Tommy asked, unsure if he was serious or not.
Techno pulled a face. “Please, for the love of all that is good, do not start calling me Dave.”
“Blood for the blood god, Dave never dies.” Wilbur cheered. Then he frowned. “What the fuck, that feels better than ‘Technoblade never dies’.”
“No, it really doesn’t-” Techno tried to cut them off, but was interrupted by Tommy's laughter.
“It hundred percent does. Big Dubs, you should write a song about how Dave never dies.”
“You fucker,” Phil laughed, thriving in the chaos. “C’mon, let’s just get to Wil’s car, I can’t deal with you shits.”
Tommy grinned at him. “You invited me.”
“Wilbur invited you.” Phil corrected absentmindedly as he grabbed Techno’s baggage.
“You let me be invited.”
“Whatever, please, let’s just get the fuck out of here,” Phil sighed. He made it sound like he was doing this for himself, but the glance at Techno gave away his intentions - to stop his friend from getting overwhelmed amongst the noise.
Tommy felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, accompanied by further pain in his arm - then guilt as how he felt. His friends were happy. He was happy for them. He should be happy for them.
No, he definitely was glad. None of them could fully wipe the dumb smiles off their faces, and it lifted his heart.
It just faltered slightly when he wondered when he’d find something like this. Would he ever?
Stop it, hissed a voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Wilbur. Thinking like that isn’t going to get you anywhere.
But I’m right, insisted the darker part of his mind, and the pain in his soulmark doubled.
“-om, you right?”
Tommy forced himself to snap out of it, rubbing his arm. “It - my soulmark really hurts,” he said weakly. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, it just wasn’t the exact reason for his concern. Maybe it should be, though, because it was fucking burning.
Was she finally…? No, that’d be ridiculous.
Wilbur wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. “You need anything, just ask, yeah?”
Tommy nodded. He knew that the veins on his arm would be writhing almost unnoticeably under his skin, and he shuddered. “M’kay,” he mumbled, then took a deep breath and straightened up. Wilbur’s arm squeezed him once more and slid off his shoulders, and he forced himself not to chase the contact.
Miraculously, Tommy managed to tune back into the conversation, which had quickly drifted to joking about the similarities between dinosaurs and Philza Minecraft, inventor of minecraft. (Brontosauruses have the most shared personality traits, but pterodactyls look the closest.)
When they were in eyesight of the beaten up old car, the pain had faded enough for Tommy to let a grin come over his face.
“Shotgun,” he called, dashing forwards suddenly. The other three looked at him in shock at first, but quickly recovered and grinned. Wilbur ran out to chase him, rapidly overtaking and ducking inside the shotgun seat before pausing and slamming his head against the dashboard in regret.
Tommy checked both ways, went around the car, and sat down in the driver’s seat, breathing heavily.
Wilbur turned and glared at him. “No way, you are not fuckin’ driving.”
“I’ve driven before,” Tommy protested. “I’m a big man, Wilbur.”
Wilbur sighed and started to get out of the shotgun, but Tommy hissed at him to stop. It took a full five minutes to plan out a system that he was satisfied with, where Tommy got into the back, Wilbur left the seat and Tommy rapidly climbed through the gap in the middle and into the shotgun.
Needless to say, Techno stole the seat and Tommy was stuck with Wilbur in the back.
“Fuckin- Techno, what the fuck?” he complained for the thousandth time.
Wilbur rolled his eyes, Phil cackled under his breath, and Techno sighed. “If I’d known you were going to be this loud about it, I would’ve just taken the back.”
“Yes!” Tommy punched the air triumphantly. “Phil, pull over.”
Phil rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Either we keep going or I turn this fucking car around and we send Techno back.”
He was met by immediate protests and one (1) American laughing his head off. It was such a familiar laugh that he relaxed, knuckles losing their whiteness. Wilbur noticed and shot him a grin in the mirror, and Phil returned it without a moment’s doubt.
They didn’t notice Tommy fall silent, shrinking in on himself slightly so as not to interrupt. And then the moment was over, and then he was back to talking and joking with them, and then he was glaring at the window as he fought back the urge to cry.
Don’t fuck this up for them, Tommy. He told the reflection sternly. They all know you’re useless on the soulmate scene, so you’re here to break the tension and shit.
Wilbur glanced to his right and saw Tommy staring out at the highway flying past. He knew better than to draw attention to it, so he rested his arm around the back of the seat, hand sitting comfortably on the back of his friend’s neck. He guided the conversation into softer, more casual topics, until Tommy felt comfortable enough to join back in.
He shrugged subtly when Phil gave him a look in the mirror, figuring that Tommy was probably tired, carsick and a little overwhelmed from how suddenly this had all happened.
The sad part is that he was so close to the problem, but so far at the same time. He just wasn’t Sherlock-y enough to add in the arm and the soulmark. To be totally honest, they discussed it in the months after their meet-up and figured that even if he’d intervened earlier, the outcome wouldn’t have changed.
None of them knew if they wanted it to.