Work Text:
Most of the population would consider themselves lucky to have a soulmate. They’re rare, symbolised by the gentle bands that wrap around a person’s wrist. Always on the left arm, and everyone has at least one, because it’s their own. Then, a second band will appear for a soulmate. Each are unique, personal to whoever they belong to.
Soulmates are complicated. The marks will usually appear when a soulmate is born, but they are not necessarily fated together from birth. Some people have multiple soulmates. Others can lose a soulmate, and be gifted another band.
A broken soulmark loses the colour. It turns grey, only returning to the colours it was when the person touches it, pressing fingertips to the lost connection.
They’re difficult, and complicated, and can be accompanied by other things that soulmates share. The most common thing to share are thoughts. Usually random and uncontrollable until the bond has been secured, and very little is known about why they are shared.
Tommy, like the entire notion of soulmates, is unique in his situation.
He knows who his soulmates are. They know who he is. There’s a general understanding, because their thoughts are commonly shared and Tommy didn’t need to show them his marks for them to confirm they were bonded.
Wilbur, or Mr Soot as Tommy is supposed to call him, is the one he met first. As his music teacher, Wilbur was the one he naturally spent more time with. Music was Tommy’s best subject, so it was hardly a surprise when they accidentally bumped into each other one day in the classroom.
The first thought from Wilbur’s end of the bond was ‘He flinched when I bumped into him’.
Tommy sent back ‘Great, Wibbles is an overgrown beanpole’, and that had halted both of them immediately.
Wilbur had kept him back after class, and quietly explained that he suspected they were soulmates. When he showed Tommy his arm, it was confirmed. His own band, a burning gold and red, sat on Wilbur’s forearm with a blue and silver that belonged to Wil, and then two others.
‘Phil and Techno,’ Wilbur had said, looking delighted. ‘Uh, Mr Craft and Mr Blade.’
From there, things got a little complicated. A four-way soulmate bond was a highly unlikely thing, and there were issues regarding the fact that Tommy couldn’t be seen to be favourited, just because of his marks.
Not that it’ll be an issue for much longer. He’s in his last year of college, about to leave and… figure out something else. He’s not entirely sure what he wants to do, but he knows that on some basic level, his soulmates are expecting him to move in with them.
Technically, they’re conjoined houses. Two houses on the edge of Manburg, attached by a weird glass walkway that Tommy often sits in when it’s sunny.
It’s not like he isn’t used to the Craft-Soot-Blade household. He’s there almost every day after school, and both weekend days. He has a bedroom in Phil’s half of the house, although he usually falls asleep on the couch after watching a movie in the evenings.
He wants to move in with them. The warmth from the soulmate connection is the best thing he’s ever felt. The happiness, the love that only the three of them ever show. Tommy never pictured being able to find himself a place where he belonged, a family.
He especially didn’t expect it after he lost his first one.
There’s no doubt that they love him. The thoughts that are shared between the bond quell any insecurities that threaten to rise in Tommy’s head, and even if they aren’t, it’s constantly affirmed in the way they treat him. Despite being the youngest, there’s no disappointment. They’re not mad that he doesn’t have a job, or that he’s still living with his parents, or that he can’t offer as much affection as the rest of them do.
Tommy’s end of the bond is always the quietest. He knows what they think, has heard Wilbur’s inner thoughts of ‘It’ll come with time’ and Phil’s ‘He’s just shy around us’.
Tonight, Tommy is not with his soulmates. His homework had been piling up, and no amount of lunchtimes skipped in order to complete the stack has helped. Instead, he’s back in the apartment his family live in, sitting in the main room.
The flat is empty. It usually is, filled only by Tommy’s presence. Even that has been dwindling lately, considering most of his time is spent with his soulmates. So, the flat isn’t particularly comforting. The heater broke last winter, and it definitely hasn’t been fixed. The fridge is mostly empty, and the patch of black mould has been spreading out of the bathroom from the damp.
His parents won’t be back for a while. Ever since The Incident, they’ve spent more time out of the flat than in it. Tommy doesn’t blame them, because he knows how painful it must be for the two of them.
Absentmindedly, he scratches at his arm. His own mark glows brightly, and as his fingers trace over it, so do the other two bands that are visible. When he releases his hold on them, they fade to grey, and Tommy lifts his sleeve higher.
Tommy is, in medical terms, an enigma.
His first soulmates were his siblings. Four years younger than him, twins. Clementine and Henry. Their bands remain on his wrist, one a stunning yellow and the other a deep red. His own, a mix of their colours, sits below it.
Tommy lost his first soulmates when he was thirteen.
The next two bands formed six months after he lost his siblings. Tubbo and Ranboo had already been bonded when Tommy met them, and they grew up together. Best friends, and then soulmates. Tommy had apologised profusely when the new band formed, because they clearly knew what happened to his first soulmates.
Together, they’d helped Tommy get over his fears. Slowly, over the next year, Tommy opened up to them.
When Tubbo and Ranboo died, Tommy only had three weeks before thoughts began popping up in his head. Random things, like ‘did I feed the cat?’ and ‘we need pasta for dinner’. The thoughts had no name, no person behind them, because the bands took a further month to form.
Three more soulmates.
He’s not an idiot. He knows that he’s not really meant to be their soulmate. He just keeps getting thrown to the next poor soul that magic decides on, and it messes everything up.
The sleeve lowers back over his soulmarks, and Tommy slumps down over the table. Annoyed pulses through the bond, and he feels all three of his soulmates perk up at his open-walls. Usually, he tries not to project too much, but tonight he misses their company.
‘Problem?’ Wilbur asks, gently pushing at the corners of Tommy’s mind and trying to wiggle his way in. The first time he did it, Tommy ended up having a panic attack that had Phil leaving his classroom and coming to find Tommy, who had been hiding in the changing rooms.
None of Tommy’s other bonds had sharing-features. He couldn’t talk to his soulmates through it, or share his thoughts. He could feel vague emotions, but he never had to worry that his soulmates could read him like an open book.
‘Maths sucks,’ Tommy pushes back, staring at the pages of squiggles in front of him.
Sympathy comes from Wilbur, followed by amusement from Techno and an offering of support from Phil.
‘You could have come over, I would help,’ Wilbur returns, always the first to speak to him.
Once, Wilbur tried to explain to him that the soulmate bond was special for the two of them. While they were all soulmates, Phil and Techno had a compatibility. So did Tommy and Wilbur, according to the music teacher.
‘Wilbur, you’re awful at maths. We all are,’ Phil points out, as Tommy writes down another answer. It’s already close to ten, and he’s still got to finish the rest of these worksheets. ‘Have you eaten dinner, mate? What did your parents make?’
Tommy rubs out the answer. ‘Pasta. Not as good as what you make, Philza Minecraft. Only man ever,’ he teases, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stares at the empty ramen packet in front of him.
A slight exaggeration never hurt anybody.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Phil chuckles, before the bond dies down.
He finishes his work by midnight, and then heads to his room. Wilbur’s still awake, mind busy with thoughts as he plays the guitar, so Tommy leaves him be and quietly checks on the other two. Phil’s asleep, which leaves Techno, who senses his prodding.
‘Nerd. Did you finish your homework?’
He climbs under the sheets, making a note to get another blanket out of the linen cupboard in the morning. It’s getting cold in his room. ‘I did, yeah.’
‘Then get some sleep, Theseus.’
He looks at the ceiling, wondering if it would be so bad to keep the bond open tonight. The warmth that comes from it, the domesticity, it’s nice. He knows that he’s supposed to keep the connection shut when he’s not conscious, just in case Wilbur comes poking around, but he doesn’t want to.
‘Read to me?’ Tommy quietly asks, and can feel a brief spike of concern from Techno’s end of the bond.
He’s never asked for anything before, so he suspects that his soulmate is confused. Regardless, a few moments after his request, Techno starts regaling him with a story worthy of any bedtime.
Tommy smiles, snuggling up to the pillow and lets his soulmate help him drift away.
**
Wilbur wakes to confusion, to an ache coming through the bond in his mind that makes him blearily swipe at his eyes as he sits up. The room is dark, and the blankets have twisted around his waist as he tries to work out what’s going on.
The first thing he recognises is Phil pushing safe – love – concern over the bond. Wilbur’s been on the receiving end of that feeling before, and it instinctively calms some part of him that wonders why he woke.
Then, he feels Tommy.
There are some things that come across the bond from the youngest that they ignore. Like when he’s in Mr Wastaken’s class, and they hear a little fuck you, dickhead, or Tommy grumbling about how he hates having to do sports. Other times, the boy accidentally pushes random thoughts about his day. ‘I could fight that goose’ or ‘If I was an ant, I’d want to be one of those bitey ones’ make Wilbur laugh at any given moment.
Tonight, Tommy fell asleep with the bond open. He’d been surprised when he checked in on his soulmates before going to bed, only to find Techno’s soft voice speaking to a half-asleep Tommy. Phil had been listening in, and Wilbur had joined.
The bond is still open now. Only, it’s filled with the coldest emotions that Wilbur’s ever felt.
Terror pulses through his veins, ice that spreads up the back of his neck. Their youngest, although Wilbur can’t see him, is definitely struggling. He pictures sheets kicked from the bed, body tense as the boy remains trapped in whatever nightmare he’s experiencing. It’s not Wilbur’s place to intrude, so he doesn’t.
‘What do we do?’ Wilbur asks, focusing the question to the other two.
Phil doesn’t answer, still trying to soothe Tommy with the bond. When it does nothing, Techno joins in. ‘He’s definitely making a sound. His parents will hear him soon.’
The thought of Tommy screaming himself awake is a horrible one, but Wilbur is helpless to do anything other than watch it happen. Eventually, they feel the bright burst of energy that comes with Tommy waking up. Consciousness slams into them, and Wilbur flinches under the barrage of scared – alone – help that Tommy unknowingly sends over.
‘Tommy, mate, it’s okay. We’re all here, you’re safe now. It was just a dream,’ Phil soothes, as Tommy’s heart threatens to burst from his chest.
Wilbur can do nothing other than reach out for the soul-bond, trying his best to reassure his other half that he’s safe.
‘Are your parents awake, Theseus? You should go and—’
The bond slams shut.
Wilbur physically rocks with the shock of it, before curiously prodding at the barrier in his mind that has become so familiar.
‘That went well,’ Phil mutters, and Wilbur hears Techno’s hum of agreement.
He’ll talk to Tommy in the morning, at school. The boy second period, so he’ll keep him back after and check in on him.
**
Tommy doesn’t protest the soft treatment, even if he should. His soulmates are concerned, and have been for most of the day. Wilbur stopped him after music class, but Tommy just promised to come over to the Craft-Soot-Blade house after school and left it at that. He spends most of his day alone, hiding out of the way of his soulmates and also Mr Wastaken, who is expecting a parental signature on a slip Tommy has shoved in his pocket.
By the time the bell rings, he’s anxious to get home.
Phil’s at the car by the time Tommy walks over, smiling warmly in his direction.
‘Afternoon, mate. How was school?’
‘Terrible,’ Tommy mutters, ‘Dream hates me. He’s being all biased against me. Gatekeeping, if you will.’
‘You’re not using that in the right context,’ says the English teacher, who appears behind them. Tommy scowls over at Techno, flipping him off but sliding into the backseat of the car and making room for Wilbur, who has yet to appear.
‘What did you do this time?’ Phil inquires, glancing at him in the rear-view mirror.
Admittedly, Tommy did call him a prick to his face. But he deserved it. ‘Didn’t say nothing that wasn’t true.’
‘Your grammar is appalling,’ Techno says with a grimace, just as Wilbur opens the door and clambers in next to Tommy.
‘My grandma is nothing of the sort,’ Tommy replies with a cheeky grin, clipping his seatbelt on.
Wilbur blinks, looking between them. ‘Why are we talking about Tommy’s grandma?’
‘We’re not… never mind. Phil, start the car before I commit a felony.’
‘We should commit felonies together, Blade. It would be pog,’ Tommy chats away, watching as they pull out of the school parking lot and head the short drive back to his soulmates’ house.
It’s a well worn routine. He chucks his bag in the kitchen and sits up at the counter, waiting for the three of them to get changed before they come back down to join him.
Today, Phil brings up what happened last night.
‘I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but last night—’
‘I’ll keep the bond shut,’ Tommy cuts in, refusing to make eye-contact with any of them. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘You get them a lot?’ Techno questions, making himself a drink and sliding a mug over to Tommy before he can complain about being left out.
He shrugs, not really interested in answering that honestly.
‘Okay, what about the thing with Dre- Mr Wastaken?’
‘I need a stupid slip signed cause I called him a prick,’ Tommy grumbles, reaching into his jeans to fish out the piece of paper.
Techno snorts. ‘Lame.’
‘Techno,’ Phil chides, then turns to Tommy. ‘It’ll be easier if you just get it signed, mate.’
‘Can’t you sign it?’ Tommy questions, and Phil rolls his eyes.
‘I’m not your parent.’
Tommy hesitates. ‘But I need it done by tomorrow.’
‘Can’t they sign it tonight?’ Wilbur suggests, turning to the fridge to begin rummaging through.
‘They’re away for a bit,’ Tommy says, without thinking about it. He’s too focused on the homework he’s pulled out of his bag to notice the way his soulmates all glance over.
‘When will they be back?’
Unsure of what the best answer is, Tommy lies. ‘Next week.’
Phil shrugs. ‘I’ll mention it to Dream. He’ll give you a week for the slip.’
Tommy bites his lip. ‘Or the week after. I’m not sure.’
The oldest in the room pauses, before he hums. ‘When did they leave?’
‘Last week.’
‘So they didn’t make pasta yesterday?’ Phil pushes, and Tommy remembers the lie he told last night.
‘Uh, I made it for myself,’ he says, fully aware that his cheeks are flushed and the three of them can definitely tell that he’s not telling the truth.
Gone is soulmate Phil, replaced with Teacher Phil. The one that narrows his eyes, leaning against the counter and staring over at Tommy. ‘I’m going to ask again, mate,’ Phil quietly begins, studying him with an unreadable expression, ‘When are you parents going to be back?’
Tommy stares at his homework.
In the year he’s been at this school, Tommy’s never introduced them to his parents. That, for him, was obvious. He knew they wanted to, but Tommy just assured them that his parents were fine with him getting to know his soulmates, and wanted to give them time for the bond to settle.
‘I’m not sure,’ Tommy whispers, throat feeling dry as he admits to the truth.
Phil doesn’t stop. ‘And when did they leave?’
The bond is open, and Tommy knows that they can feel the scared – dishonest – LIE that threads through Tommy’s mind.
‘Few months ago,’ Tommy says, which isn’t technically a lie.
Phil breathes out heavily, as Wilbur makes a wounded sound.
‘I’m seventeen,’ Tommy quickly counters, already able to tell where this conversation is going to go. ‘There’s nothing wrong—’
‘With how defensive you are, kid, I’m suspecting this has been happening for a while,’ Techno comments, leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed.
Tommy winces.
‘How long?’ Phil asks, and Tommy doesn’t answer.
‘Tommy,’ Wilbur stresses, stepping closer to him. ‘How long has this been going on?’
He hates that his heart is hammering away, that his hands are clammy and his head hurts. He doesn’t want to make them mad, but he’s not sure what the right answer is.
‘Since I was thirteen,’ he mutters, rubbing his hands up his arms. Unconsciously, he goes for the bands on his forearm, rubbing over them and enjoying the heat that flickers through his body as he touches them.
Wilbur flinches, before he steps closer. ‘You don’t need to… Tommy, do you want a hug?’
He scowls, goes to deny it, before realising what he’s doing with his arm. Dropping the touch, he quickly glares at his other half.
‘Okay. This is… okay, we can sort this,’ Phil says, mostly to himself. ‘Tommy, we’re going to go over to yours and get some stuff so you can stay with us.’
Tommy blinks. ‘What?’
‘You’re moving in with us, at least for the time being,’ Phil tells him, ‘I’m not having you staying alone.’
‘But—’
Before he can argue, Wilbur’s stepping into his space. He does his best not to flinch when Wilbur’s hands move too quickly, before quickly settling into the man’s chest when he’s tugged closer. The bond flares in his mind, warm and safe and perfect, and Tommy vaguely realises that Wilbur’s speaking to the other two.
‘—keep him close, don’t worry. Just give him a minute.’
Fingers tangle into his hair, and Tommy slumps into Wilbur’s hold.
‘That’s it, sunshine. Right where you belong.’