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It had started off as a joke.
The idea that the newest twisted game the Watchers were playing on them - connecting their life, their pain, to someone else - was a soulmate bond, like this was some young adult novel and they were here to find their other half and fall in love, was a joke. When Impulse and Bdubs had figured out that they were bound (after too many phantom crossbow bolt wounds that Impulse knew he’d be feeling for a long while), the first people on the server to do so, they had to play it up. Keep the tensions low for as long as possible.
Thankfully, they had an audience. Martyn, Etho, Scar, Scar’s allay, and Etho’s dog were all there to see Impulse dramatically get on one knee, fumble a bit, and take one of the rings from his horns, presenting it to Bdubs. It didn’t fit, obviously, but Bdubs still put it on (the wrong hand, he had to note) and gasped like he’d actually been proposed to. He pulled Impulse up and gave him an exaggeratedly big kiss on his cheek that was essentially just him saying the word “mwah!” against his face. It was enough to get people laughing, which was what they were after.
Someone’s laughter rang a little hollow, though. Etho was refusing to meet his eyes, and the mask covering the bottom half of his face made it impossible for Impulse to read his expression. Bdubs was a lot easier, always had been, and as he draped himself across Impulse’s arm, it was clear his tone was filled with spite.
“That’s right, me and Impulse are in love.” Okay so maybe it wasn’t entirely a joke. Maybe Bdubs had some other hidden motivation behind pretending to love him. Impulse hadn’t paid them that much attention during the last life games, but Tango and Skizz had told him that there was drama there, something about how a decade’s worth of romantic tension trying to resolve itself in the middle of a snow fort in the middle of a death game was only going to end in heartbreak.
But that wasn’t his business. If Bdubs wanted to make Etho jealous or whatever, it wasn’t his place to interfere.
And it was still a joke for everyone else. They continued to act the newlyweds, with silly pet names and plans for a mid-century modern house with a pool and a picket fence and enough space out back to hitch their horses. They watched as everyone around them got paired off. Etho ended up with Joel, which was a relief. They all knew Joel was married, and very happily married at that, so Impulse never had to confront whatever emotions Bdubs would have at seeing Etho being lovey dovey with someone, even as a joke.
The thing with jokes, though, is that Bdubs was very committed to them, method acting his role even when no one was around, casually holding Impulse's hand, calling him dear and darling, pushing their beds together, even if it had been awkward at first. They leaned into it. It was nice to have Bdubs around. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Nice to have someone to dress his wounds and keep his health up.
And Bdubs was nice to look at. He'd known that for a while. Impulse had never thought about Bdubs in that way before, but it's not like he didn't have eyes. The way his lithe body hid surprising amounts of muscles, all of which were put on display as he worked on building their house in the sunshine. The way his hand would run through his hair, sweeping the long parts out of his face. The way his tongue poked out from between his teeth when he was concentrating on something. His laugh. His smile. The light that shone from his eyes. At some point they had stopped making deliberate distance between each other as they slept, and they became accustomed to how it felt when their facial hair scratched against the other's face when they kissed. And- well, they were adults, whose bodies had wants and needs, and any sort of stress relief was a godsend in amongst everything else, so they ended up… consummating their marriage, to put it politely.
Really, Impulse couldn't be blamed at that point. It would take a person with a much stronger willpower than himself to hear his name chanted amongst praises and expletives in a mantra of pleasure and not fall head over heels in love.
He hadn’t had this before, in these games. He never really had anyone to truly trust the first time around, and he always felt like kind of an outsider in the second. But Bdubs was his, and he trusted him, and he loved him, and maybe they were forced to be together because of the soul bond, but it still warmed his heart whenever he woke up with the other in his arms, knowing he felt safe enough to do so.
Everything had to come to an end, eventually. When they made an enemy of two pairs of red lives, and when their stupid pool party came crashing down around them. When the canary call sounded and took Tango down with it, everything became a blur. Martyn had told him about the Watchers, and why they were there, for them to feast on the negative emtions they produced by being forced in a box and goaded to kill each other. Maybe that was what caused the huge swathes of static void in his memory. He was running on pure emotion. There was nothing to do but amputate, so to speak. Cut it all away.
He’d already known that, on some level. He knew that every time they went back to Hermitcraft, he didn’t feel resentful towards his fellow players. Even when they’d killed him in cold blood, betrayed him, made him hate them. It was all water under the bridge, in the end.
He’d assumed it was just the negatives that got pruned away. After all, he’d known most of these people for years, a few weeks of friendship was barely a blip in an emotional radar. And his relationship with those he wasn’t as familiar with had always been on the more pragmatic side. He knew he liked Jimmy, because Jimmy was his teammate. He was loyal and brave and optimistic in the face of danger. He could compartmentalise these facts for when he saw him again, and they could be friends, never questioning the lack of emotions behind it all.
So when they were released from the void they were always put in after the games, and he woke back up on Hermitcraft, in an empty bed for the first time in weeks, he stupidly thought that it could all continue. They’d have to talk, of course, have a big long discussion about what this actually meant for them. Did Bdubs want a room in his keep? Did they want to base next to each other next season? Did they want a wedding? Was the ability to officiate a marriage one of Xisuma’s admin privileges? The practicalities were pushed from his mind and he was giddy by the time he reached Bdubs’s monolith, his head filled with thoughts of flowers and cake and Bdubs looking so handsome in a suit. So he was a romantic, was that a crime?
Bdubs answered the door looking sleepy (adorable), wrapped in his moss cape like a fluffy blanket. He had lost the cuts and bruises that had adorned him throughout the game, and his big brown eyes were somehow even more beautiful when they weren’t swollen and red-rimmed. Impulse scooped him up into a hug, lifting him off his feet and twirling them both around. Bdubs laughed, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall.
And then, almost without thinking about it - why would he, they’d done it dozens if not hundreds of times before - he kissed him. Just a soft press of lips, lasting barely a second.
Mistake.
Bdubs balked, pushing away from Impulse and scrambling out of his arms. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth like he was disgusted at the feeling of it.
“What was that for?” He looked so genuinely offended that Impulse didn’t know how to process it.
“I… missed you?” He answered, lamely. It obviously wasn’t what Bdubs was asking, but he didn’t know if he had an answer for the actual question, and he had to say something.
“Yeah, and I missed Doc, doesn’t mean I’m gonna go making out with him when I see him next.” This didn’t make sense. Bdubs had kissed him the morning they died, had talked him through the anxiety that came along with their teammates dropping like flies around them, he’d held him close in the snow as they were advanced on by wolves, far too many to fight off. What had happened in the gaps in his memory that had changed all of that?
“I’m sorry,” Impulse said, eventually, “I should have asked, I just- you were always okay with it back in-”
“Back in the games is different. You got different emotions. I don’t love you anymore, Impulse. Like how I don't love Cleo anymore, or-” he cut himself off, refusing to finish the thought. “I guess you wouldn’t get it.”
But he did get it. Emotions were the foundations of love. This wasn’t just an alliance formed in the sake of self preservation, where the pros and cons of various teammates could be looked at objectively. This was choosing to be emotionally vulnerable and intimate with someone that was almost arbitrarily chosen to be the right one. That choice had been made for them, they just happened to agree with it, for the time. If Bdubs didn’t have those emotions anymore, there was
nothing keeping him with Impulse, and there was nothing Impulse could do about that
“I’m gonna go see Tango now,” Impulse said, “See how he’s holding up.” It was a lie, and Impulse was almost sure that Bdubs knew it. Knew that he was going to go back home, throw himself into his work to distract himself, and not be seen for a week. He was going to sleep in his too-big bed, and get mad at the powers that be for making him an exception to whatever emotional morphine they’d administered to everyone else.
“Oh, here.” Bdubs said, as he turned to leave. He reached behind his head and untied the string around his neck. The makeshift necklace he’d used to carry the ring he’d given him when they realised there was no way it was staying on his hand. He passed it to Impulse. “I respawned wearing this. Thought you might want it back.”
Impulse didn’t say anything. He just nodded, took the ring back, and left.