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Tommy figures out who his soulmate is as he's walking home from class and nearly falls flat on his face.
It's been a weird couple of days, because he's had this song stuck in his head- one that he's never heard before- and it's been sung by a voice that's vaguely familiar. Or at least feels familiar. It feels like Tommy should know who they are. Like deep in his gut he knows exactly what is going on, but his brain hasn't caught up yet.
And it didn't help that he couldn't find the song in question- it literally wasn't anywhere. Not on spotify, not on apple music, not on pandora, not even on fucking soundcloud. This song didn't exist as far as he knew and that was with days worth of searching.
And then, as he's leaving class- which was fucking dull by the way, who the hell really needs to know about unit circles in real life- he gets a notification from Wilbur Soot. It's a video of him sitting cross legged on a bridge in London with a guitar in his lap. He clicks it and listens for a while before stopping short.
If I could just break one more night
Maybe I could wake up and feel alright
My optimistically set alarm clock time
Serves only to mock me with flashing lights
Saline Solution is the song title. And this is it's first official release. Which means Tommy getting it stuck in his head wasn't the result of him hearing it on the radio in passing, and it wasn't him just remembering an old song that his dad used to play; Tommy heard it before it was out because his soulmate was singing it.
That vaguely familiar crooning was Wilbur Soot, one of Tommy's favorite Youtubers, who is subsequently also Tommy's platonic soulmate.
Fuck.
...
The album is good.
The album is really good.
Tommy listens to it in the car and on the way to class and coming back from the chippy and on those days when he feels like he needs to lay down on the floor of his room and just focus on his breathing. There's a comforting quality to it, and Tommy can't know if it's because that's his soulmate singing or if it's because of the raw vulnerability hidden in the lyrics.
Sometimes Tommy will put it on, put in his earbuds and curl a blanket around his shoulders, pretending that his soulmate is confessing these anxieties directly to him. That Wilbur knows and feels comforted by Tommy's listening, even if the actual Wilbur hardly knows him from adam.
It's also nice to know that there are other people who feel that same pressing nerves that Tommy does- that he isn't alone in that because at times it certainly feels like he is. It's haunting to listen to, but Tommy loves it and eagerly awaits more music in the future- whenever and wherever that takes Wilbur.
...
He's invited to the Earth SMP and he has to mentally remind himself to chill the fuck out Tom, oh my God.
Everywhere he looks there are streamers and content creators that Tommy can actually interact with and talk to rather than just blowing up their Twitter dms and hoping they take pity on him. It's an insane feeling- to be surrounded by people he's watched and enjoyed and looked up to. God, before long even the Technoblade is fighting a war against him and Tommy genuinely has to take deep breaths before starting his stream so he doesn't just go on a twenty minute ramble about how fucking unreal it is.
A clip circulates of Technoblade and Philza Minecraft calling him the hero of the server because he decided to play the villain and introduce conflict, and he has to react to it- squealing like he's ten because what the actual fuck, what timeline is he in right now?
And all of that is well and good- very exciting- but Tommy can't deny the fact that he's most impressed by Wilbur. They're becoming slow friends and Tommy gets to see a depth of him that he didn't before- his intelligence and passion for music and content creation and seemingly random things like accents and whales and method acting.
Talking to him makes Tommy overflow with pride- that's my soulmate, that's Wilbur Soot, everyone look at my other half. Part of him is impulsive, wanting to just blurt it out to the man: hey, we're actually soulmates, isn't that wild? But the other part of him buzzes with a tight anxiety at the thought. What if Wilbur thinks it's weird that his soulmate is a fan- and not just a fan, but a sixteen year old kid who spammed his way into Wilbur's life and server.
As much as Tommy is impressed with Wilbur, he knows distinctly that the feeling isn't mutual. Tommy doesn't have anything to offer, he wears a total of three shirts and calls it a style, he trips over his shoelaces when he takes his dogs out, he still has to complete homework sheets after school. He isn't someone that Wilbur can have long conversation with about composting or whatever the fuck Wilbur is into after a three am internet deep dive.
A soulmate is supposed to be your other half- someone who meets you toe for toe, picks up where you leave off, highlights your strengths and eases your weaknesses. A soulmate isn't Tommyinnit, a kid who scrounged around on Hypixal and got bullied in secondary school.
It would be disappointing, he knows, so he just keeps quiet.
...
(He can't stop himself from thinking up a scenario where Wilbur is glad to have Tommy as his soulmate. He imagines Wilbur, grinning and voice bouncing as he brags about Tommy to other people. Or imagines the way his face would shine with pride and fondness at hearing Tommy's singing in his head. He imagines them using their link to joke back and forth, poking fun at one another the way they do on streams, half singing songs like it's a conversation, making a game of it.
It's nice.
It's a fantasy. )
...
The link is very active on Wilbur's side.
There's one time where Tommy is in the middle of typing up a timed essay on the rhetorical devices in Frankenstein and Wilbur just fucking starts singing Bruno Mars.
Jump in the Cadillac
Girl let's put some miles on it
Tommy stops typing his third body paragraph and pulls out his phone to check Twitch. Of course Wilbur is streaming and of course he's filming a you laugh you lose with Niki- Tommy wouldn't expect anything different. Tommy grimaces at that video of him mouthing along to That's What I like, but something softens in his chest at the way Wilbur sings it- happy smile all curved around the lyrics- and the song must mean something to him because he isn't truly trying to sing well but it's coming over the link anyway.
For a brief moment, Tommy allows himself to entertain the thought that maybe the song means something to Wilbur because of the video of Tommy- because that's his friend lip syncing along to it- but then the media share ends and Wilbur waves Niki's knowing look off.
"It's a good song," he says, still smiling, half joking, "it has nothing to do with the child."
Tommy wilts a little, but understands. Not everything is about him. Maybe he has a memory of that song completely outside of his online friendships. Maybe Wilbur doesn't think of Tommy at all when he hears it.
Tommy turns back to his essay, thoroughly distracted, unable to stop humming that stupid fucking Bruno Mars song.
...
There's another time when Tommy is getting ready to stream, running downstairs to grab a coke and he nearly brains himself on the bottom step. A stuttery version of Wilbur's singing comes through- a song Tommy's never heard of before, which can only mean one thing.
He stands there in the kitchen, swaying slightly to a tune that only he can hear. Wilbur's guitar, Wilbur's voice, Wilbur's lyrics. He wants to hop around the house, crow along to Wilbur's talent, shout out his support to anyone who can hear.
A few days later they're on a call late after streaming and Wilbur pulls out his guitar and asks if he can play something new for Tommy. Tommy says yes, a million times over yes, as enthusiastically as he can, and Wilbur laughs.
It's so amazing- too good and Tommy has to stop himself from tapping along like he knows it, has to stop himself from singing the next lyrics. Wilbur stops before the last verse, saying that's all he's got and Tommy gets to gush about it and how fucking hell Wil, is there a song you made that isn't the best?
Wilbur laughs again and goes, "You're too nice to me Tommyinnit. You're also really biased 'cause you listen to Khai Dreams, Hamilton and the Minecraft OST exclusively."
Tommy's nose wrinkles. "I do not."
"Oh right, sorry, I forgot to mention Bruce Springsteen."
"Never talk to me again," Tommy says, red in the face.
"Good luck to your soulmate who'll have to listen to Pigstep for the rest of their life." Wilbur teases, snorting fondly, and it's a joke, he's joking, but Tommy's mouth clacks shut. A beat goes by and Wilbur must realize that his joke hit too close to home because he starts to backtrack, saying, "Tom-"
But Tommy doesn't want to touch any of that with a ten foot pole, so he huffs theatrically. "My soulmate will love Pigstep and minecraft just as much as I do and when I find them you'll be sorry Wilbur Soot."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Wilbur says, rolling his eyes, put at ease.
"You know how you can make it up to me?" Tommy asks and Wilbur makes a questioning noise. "By playing Your New Boyfriend again. Please, Wil, please?"
Wilbur groans like it's a chore but Tommy can see the little smile that quirks his lips upward. He reaches for his guitar again and Tommy settles back to listen.
...
There are too many close calls- Tommy's gotten used to opening his streams with trumpet hums like he used to do in band, or bopping around to his latest favorite video game scores for comedic value, or even shouting out Hamilton lyrics at the top of his lungs and changing them to fit the rp.
And then:
Quackity wants to have a singing competition for the election and Tommy jerks around, making his voice too shrieky or way too low, and not shying away from his voice cracks so to not sing even remotely well. Wilbur joins in and suddenly they're singing Let it Go together as loud as they can. It feels right- and Tommy can tell the second that he accidentally shifts from joking around to genuinely singing when they harmonize.
It's like something inside of him opens up- a burst of color, of warmth, and he can feel something. Pride maybe, happiness. Something comforting and uplifting. It's breath-taking, the feeling, and Tommy wants it to last forever.
But it can't, and so Tommy coughs, and the link slams shut on his end. He hears Wilbur's voice waver, then continue on like nothing happened for the good of the bit. Tommy keeps singing horribly off key, trying to ignore the part of him yearning to reopen their link and drop down into pitch beside Wilbur where he belongs.
...
"We seem to like the same music," Wilbur is saying over the call, fiddling with his cube and rolling back and forth in his chair. "I mean, I never hear any heavy metal or, like, Ariana Grande coming through. Well, I hardly hear much of anything, honestly."
"Maybe they're shy." Phil offers. "They might actually know who you are."
"Okay, but I'm not exactly intimidating," Wilbur scoffs. Unintentionally, Tommy makes a noise of disagreement and he instantly zeroes in on it.
"You think I'm intimidating? Me?"
Tommy winces, then shrugs, throwing a look at Phil, who stays suspiciously silent. "I dunno- I mean, like, maybe. It's- I don't know, It's different with me, but if I fuckin' squint I could maybe see you being a bit nerve wracking. 'Specially if they like the DSMP."
Wilbur's quiet. For a second Tommy thinks he's accidentally been too candid and revealed his hand, but then he goes, "is that why you don't sing Tommy? Because you think you'll scare them off?"
Tommy pauses. Phil makes a low sound, recognizing a boundary being crossed.
"I don't- I'm not-"
"Because listen Tommy," Wilbur says, suddenly all passionate, "if your soulmate is scared off because of how talented you are, or because of how creative you are, then- then- then they just don't fucking deserve you! You're a smart kid and you're fucking killing it and your soulmate would be lucky to have you. You deserve a happy ending just as much as any other person does, popular Twitch streamer or not."
The air feels tight and Tommy feels all chokes up- teary and teetering on the edge of just blurting it out. Would you still believe that if I were your soulmate? Would you still believe that if I told you that we were tied together forever?
"He's right mate," Phil says, the moment snapping. "The both of you deserve your happiness. No matter how big you get. Though I can also see why someone would be nervous about it- give it time. I'm sure they'll figure it all out."
"Easy for you to say," Wilbur sighs, "not everyone's platonic soulmate turns out to also be their romantic partner."
"Ah, what can I say," Phil grins like a sap. "Kirsten and I are a cosmic anomaly. Unable to be recreated. We're cracked, if you will."
Tommy grins, his stomach tight, his brain unable to stop repeating: your soulmate would be lucky to have you, your soulmate would be lucky to have you, your soulmate would be lucky to have you.
-Would you, Wilbur? Would you really?
...
I know I'm not the only one
But I can't imagine nothing else
I see it every time I fall asleep
Tommy's cleaning his room, bopping around to his Chill Mix when a notification pings. It's not Discord, because he's on do-not-distrub ( his mother was getting really antsy about the number of dishes piling in his room- like, threatening to revoke internet privileges until it was dealt with type antsy), so Tommy reaches for his phone.
It's Wilbur, and a couple of months ago Tommy might've worried that something was wrong for him to text on Tommy's personal line, but they do that now. They just text and call and talk without an audience and without the need for content. Just the other day Wilbur called asking for a blank slate to bounce music ideas off of and Tommy sat crisscrossed on the floor with his keyboard and played a bit while Wilbur sung. It wasn't the same as singing with his soulmate, opening their link and harmonizing, but it was close. It was still something special- something Tommy held close to his heart.
wilbur soot: okay my sm is definitely a dsmp fan
wilbur soot: they like that one khai dreams song you always played in your outro
Wilbur soot: the coincidence is too strong to not be
Tommy blinks at his phone screen for a moment before frantically slamming a hand down on his PC keyboard and shutting off his spotify. He must've absently been singing along, and even if it wasn't really proper singing, the song was still one of his favorites so of course it would've gotten over their link. He's lucky that his Discord wasn't connected to his Spotify otherwise he'd be screwed .
tommyinnit: haha probably
tommyinnit: that means ur sm is the average tommyinnit enjoyer
wilbur soot: unfortunately :/
tommyinnit: OI
tommyinnit: they have Taste
wilbur soot: uh huh, sure
He's going to have to be more careful. Even more than he's already been. He's all tight in the chest and it's insufferable, but this is Wilbur, and Tommy can't lose him. He'll clamp down on it- he's got to.
...
(There are a lot of times where Wilbur thinks Tommy could be his soulmate.
There was when they met up for Tommy's Brighton vlog and greeted each other with a hug. Tommy's grin was huge and he bounded forward like a golden lab, practically barreling Wilbur over. He didn't hesitate to get his arms around the teen, unable to help noticing how Tommy was the perfect height for him to tuck his chin over Tommy's blond curls. They were like puzzle pieces- meant to be together.
There were all the times that Tommy dragged Wilbur out of bed and to his pc when he felt like he was drowning in his own grayness. Wilbur remembers Tommy making him laugh when he felt like turning over and going back to sleep, remembers Tommy being willing to play games that he didn't like so Wilbur would have fun, remembers Tommy checking up on him- almost feverishly- reminding him to take care of himself or to be kind to himself or to take a moment to just breathe. It was nice to be taken care of, even if it was from far away and from a kid who was still learning the depths of his own emotional intelligence.
It feels right- all the times that Tommy makes a joke that only serves to make Wilbur laugh, or goes along with one of Wilbur's long-form bits even though he prefers short ones, or cheers him on with his music like it's his job. After a while Wilbur finds himself wishing it were Tommy, because where else would he find a bond like this?
The cosmos couldn't create Wilbur and Tommy's friendship- and no soulmate link could stop them.)
...
Wilbur starts a band, and it's simultaneously the worst and best thing in Tommy's life.
Because of Lovejoy, his link is almost always active with half finished lyrics and rolling horns and a thumping bass that makes Tommy want to quit streaming and throw himself head first into band practices. It's good enough that Tommy stops wearing earbuds as he walks to Freddie's, or when he's shopping for hoodies, content to listen to the little snippets of Wilbur and his friends' genius.
He washes the dishes and beams when Wilbur starts up a session, biting down on his own lip to keep from singing along and giving himself away.
One day, I know that you will be there
One day, I'll focus on the future
Maybe one day, oh, baby, isn't life so fucking inconsistent?
This of course marks the end of their phone calls where Wilbur asks Tommy to tinkle on the keyboard to spark his imagination, but the trade off is well worth it. Waking up with Lovejoy in his head or going to bed to Wilbur's soft voice working out the next chord progression or penning down a new lyric was like having a hand in his as he goes through life. It's comforting. Of course Tommy wishes for more- he's always been greedy, wanting more than he should- but how could he help it? He wants to sink into the warm embrace of Wilbur's open arms, wants to settle into their connection the way that he's been made to.
He can't, and the fact that his soulmate is right there but out of reach digs into him and hurts.
...
They meet up again, Wilbur taking Tommy all around London, showing him the sights and cracking jokes back and forth.
The head to Vikkstar's to stream and then out to visit George and then downtown to go get punched by KSI. When they're done they get on a train and do some more walking until they're by a bridge.
Wilbur's all excited, pulling Tommy's attention. "Tommy, Tommy, look-" Tommy swings the camera as Wilbur sits on the concrete cross legged and mimes holding a guitar. "You know where this is?"
Tommy is too excited to think, infected by Wilbur's energy. "What Wilbur?"
"This is where I filmed Your City Gave Me Asthma."
Tommy's eyes go wide and he makes a noise of astonishment. Wilbur, still on the ground, grins. He reaches up a hand and Tommy helps him to his feet, still surprised.
"Wilbur," Tommy says, turning around in a circle, "Wilbur, history was made here." And he's only half joking. This was where the music that led Tommy to Wilbur was filmed. This was how he connected the dots.
Wilbur and George both laugh. Tommy lets Wilbur throw an arm around his shoulders and drag him close to his side. Tommy wants to tell Wilbur- I was there, I heard you, I was with you then and I'm with you now- I'm right here.
He doesn't, instead burrowing into Wilbur's side and following George out to the street.
...
It hurts a lot, Tommy decides.
Weeks later, there's a clip going around of Phil and Wilbur talking about how much Tommy hypes up Wil's music. In it, Wilbur beams, saying that he could do just a simple vocalization and Tommy would cheer his head off like Wilbur was reinventing the music industry.
Of course, they don't know that Tommy cheers so hard because he can hear the whole melody in his mind- that he can literally see Wilbur's potential layed out in front of him- that it's like magic and it's the only part of their connection that Tommy has because he can't indulge in anything else.
He can't keep doing this. He's already put as many limits on himself as he could- less music on stream, no singing in videos even as a joke, no spotify while he's editing- all in order to avoid having to go to the extreme. Actually avoiding Wilbur himself.
It's the only thing that Tommy can think to do. At the rate that they're going, with how close they're getting- their bit about being brother slowly shifting from a joke to being real- it's bound to slip. All it will take is a second: the two of them singing Hamilton together and Tommy forgets to sound bad and then their link is open and Wilbur is horrified. It's the subject of Tommy's nightmares enough.
How mad would Wilbur be to find out that Tommy lied to him? How upset will he be at his poor excuse for a soulmate? He just stopped being embarrassed as having a sixteen year old as his best friend- the jump from that to brothers to soulmates would tear their relationship apart.
No. Tommy wouldn't let that happen. He wants to keep all the good memories he has with Wilbur- doesn't want them tainted by a huge falling out. He'll distance himself. It'll be hard, but it's for their own good. This way Wilbur can go on with the illusion that his soulmate is someone worth it, and Tommy won't accidentally ruin everything for him.
...
He goes on break. He deletes Twitter off his phone and puts his Discord status on invisible. When Wilbur texts asking him to join in rust streams, Tommy sends the most convincing excuses that he can. Tommy films his mod videos without Wilbur, because it would just be too much to hear him laughing fondly while they aren't talking.
Tommy was right in thinking that it'd be hard, but he didn't realize just how hard it would be. Almost every corner of Tommy's life had Wilbur tucked in the cracks, every piece of his online identity and all his friends and even things in his offline life reminded him cruelly of his brother, his platonic soulmate, who he couldn't even speak to.
For the first week Tommy thinks he's suffering purely by himself, but then one evening the link opens and Tommy hears Wilbur singing along to Tommy's chill mix despondently.
Summer friends don't stay
Summer friends don't stay around
Summer friends, summer friends
Summer friends don't stay
Summer friends don't stay, hey
Stay around
Tommy lays there, on his floor, wishing he could do anything. If Wilbur knew about him and wanted him for a soulmate, Tommy would probably sing back some Lovejoy to lift his spirits. but Wilbur doesn't, and so Tommy can't, so he sits there and listens to Wilbur miss him and want for his soulmate without knowing they're one in the same.
...
Distantly, Wilbur knows that Tommy is avoiding him.
Every text to stream is met with a litany of halfhearted excuses, and every call he enters chimes with an exit. And more than that, Tommy isn't on much social media- no twitter, no instagram, nothing. Wilbur reaches out to no reply, and it's almost the same as him constantly tugging at his soulmate link only to hear nothing back, but worse because this is Tommy.
He knows Tommy. Has had long conversations about music and content and comedy, has queued up movies and videos to share screen watch together, has met his father and his dogs and texts his mother when she worries about him. Tommy is his little brother in all but blood, is his best friend in all but words, is his soulmate in all but link, and Wilbur can't lose him. A spotty soulmate is one thing, but Tommy is real and right there- he's not letting their connection fade.
He decides to give Tommy some space, but surprise him on his birthday. Wilbur texts his mother and calls his father and heads down to the guitar center to get him a ukulele as a present.
He'll shamelessly admit to the fact that it's a selfish gift. He wants to teach Tommy- make a quiet moment between them, maybe get him to open up about his soulmate. They have it in common, issues with their matches- Wilbur's too timid and Tommy himself too afraid. Maybe Wilbur can coax a happy ending for at least one of them.
(Or maybe, that clawing, terrible, desperately hoping part of Wilbur whispers, maybe they can be soulmate-less together. Maybe they can be for each other what their soulmates couldn't.)
Wilbur drives down early, too excited to wait. Tommy's parents text, telling him that they'll be out by the time he gets there, but that there's a key under the flowerpot in case Tommy doesn't hear the doorbell ring.
It's not too bad a ride, but he's way too keyed up to listen to any music, so his link stays pretty quiet all day. It nearly makes him jump when as he's pulling into Tommy's driveway, he hears a gentle voice singing. He kills the switch and the car engine dies, and Wilbur just sits there, staring blankly ahead at the green lawn and white picket houses.
I think I've lost my mind
Blurring the fact and the fiction
Whilst simultaneously fixing
Myself up with a girl named Panadol
That's- that's Wilbur's song. That's Saline Solution. His soulmate is singing- like really singing, not just accidental slips or tiny melodies- and they're singing something Wilbur wrote.
Their voice is shaky, clearly nervous, but they know the lyrics well. They've been subject to Wilbur singing them enough to probably know them by heart. The voice is strangely familiar too- as if Wilbur's heard them talk before, or should know who they are.
I think I've lost my mind
I think I've lost my mind
It's almost enough to stop Wilbur in his tracks. This is his chance, after who knows how long of radio silence, to finally connect with his other half- to finally get some semblance of communication going between them. This is it, because who knows when they'll feel confident enough to sing again. This might be all Wilbur gets.
And yet-
Tommy is inside, Tommy is right there, Tommy is within reach.
There's no reason to stretch himself thin for a connection that might not work out when he has Tommy waiting.
So Wilbur ignores the singing in his head and pulls himself out of the car. He grabs the ukulele and strolls to the door. He knocks, and waits. All he can hear is the gentle singing, the voice growing more and more confident. Wilbur tucks a hand under the flowerpot and pulls out a key. He lets himself in and walks up the stairs to Tommy's room.
The door is cracked and Wilbur peeks in, knocking gently in a way that makes it open wider, the way that his mother used to do when he wouldn't wake in time for school. Tommy isn't on his PC editing or laying on his bed on his phone, he's sitting on the floor with his back to the door, a keyboard down in front of him and he's singing.
He's singing .
If I could just break one more night
Maybe I could wake up and feel alright
My optimistically set alarm clock time
Serves only to mock me with flashing lights
"Oh." Wilbur says. And suddenly a lot of things are clicking into place. Tommy must hear him, even with his headphones plugged into the audio jack, because his head jerks up and he swivels around, eyes wide.
"Wilbur- Wha- Wilbur?" Tommy scrambles to stand, and distantly it warms Wilbur that Tommy's first instinct upon seeing him is to smile. But then Tommy's expression drops to something more horrified and he shuffles backwards, probably realizing what Wilbur now knows. "Wilbur," he says again, high pitched, the way it goes when he's scared.
Wilbur knows it well enough- has heard it on right before big streams with people Tommy's looked up to, has heard it when Tommy roleplays with Dream, has heard it a while ago in a conversation that is all too relevant now: but if I fuckin' squint I could maybe see you being a bit nerve wracking.
"I'm- what are you doing here?" Tommy is saying, tripping over himself to distract Wilbur, or whatever, and- "Like, you can't just fucking- how did you get in here? The door was locked. I'm pretty sure I locked it. You- I mean if you could get in, then, fuck, what's stopping a goddamm wrong'un from bursting through my gate and stabbin' me in the brain. Je sus."
Tommy's got his streamer voice on now- his whole fucking persona actually- and it really doesn't work with the way that he's trying to cower away from Wilbur. Like he's trying to hide. Like Wilbur would hurt him.
Wilbur takes a step forward and Tommy jerks, talking even faster. "Okay, okay- fuck- Wil- look, you have to understand, you've got to- listen, listen, I know I should've told you. I know that. But you- you can see why I couldn't right? I couldn't 'cause, like, what the fuck kinda shitty deal is that? What kind of soulmate links up someone like you with someone like me? I mean, I'm- I'm nothing special."
Wilbur's heart breaks.
He keeps coming and Tommy cringes away, eyes squeezing shut like Wilbur would- god- like he would hit him, but Wilbur dashes those beliefs and pulls Tommy into a hug. Tommy stands still as a board, and Wilbur can just see his eyes going wide without even looking.
"Wil?" Tommy whispers, and it's the smallest, quietest, most teary thing Wilbur's ever heard and it makes his chest ache.
It makes Wilbur hold him tighter, firmly, like Wilbur could reassure him with just one hug, and it seems to work a little bit because Tommy's breath hitches before he's wrapping hesitant arms around Wilbur. Wilbur doesn't move, or lash out, or even speak, and that must be everything that Tommy needs because all that tension drains out of him and leaves him sagging in Wilbur's arms.
"Oh, Toms," Wilbur says softly. "Did you really think that I wouldn't want you?"
Tommy whimpers, burying his face into Wilbur's shoulder, shaking. It's like a damn breaking and soon he's sobbing and crying and Wilbur hurts for him- wondering just how long Tommy's been carrying this around, wondering just how long he's been too afraid to breathe. All Wilbur can do, all Wilbur can think to do, is to hold him and hold him and hold him.
...
All of those good hosting skills that Tommy's mum repeatedly pressed into his skull has left him.
Wilbur doesn't seem to mind though- he's dealt with a shit ton, driving all the way down here, Tommy not even opening the door and then having to deal with Tommy crying all over him- and now he's sitting on Tommy's floor, smiling like he's happy just to be.
"Shit, ah, did you- do you want some water?" Tommy asks, shifting nervously. "Or juice? I think we've got apple and lemonade and something called cran-apple- don't ask me what that actually is-"
"I'm alright," Wilbur says, voice still gentle and kind and all sorts of nice that settles Tommy's frayed nerves. "Thank you."
Tommy nods jerkily and then the silence descends again. It's charged, and full, and Tommy knows that he's stalled long enough and Wilbur deserves answers. Has deserved answers for months.
"Do we have to talk now?" He asks, keeping his eyes on the floorboards under his feet. He's sitting facing Wil, hugging his own legs, but he hasn't made eye contact since Wilbur guided them down gently after Tommy was done losing his shit all over Wilbur.
"Not if you don't want to." Wilbur assures, scooting closer, gently nudging his socked foot against Tommy's. "We've got all the time in the world."
It's that surety, underline with relief that makes Tommy want to start crying all over again. He feels like he's been yanked up from under high water after drowning for who knows how long. Wilbur's okay that Tommy is his soulmate- and more than that, Wilbur wants him to be. The feeling of it is borderline indescribable.
"But Tommy," He continues, voice firmer now. "There's something I need you to understand right now."
"Yeah?"
He reaches a hand across the floor, palm up and Tommy doesn't hesitate to hold it. Wilbur's smile grows and he squeezes.
"You are more than enough for me. You are- Toms, you're my little brother. You're- God, I was hoping that it would be you." He admits. "I was coming up the steps and heard you singing through the link and thought: my soulmate can wait, I have to see about my Tommy."
Tommy tears up again but huffs. He's done crying. He's done being all anxious and worried and frantic about this. Wilbur's here and he's happy and that's what matters. "Bet'cha didn't think we'd be the same."
"Nope, had no clue." He laughs. Tommy lets go of his hand, scoots closer and turns so they're shoulder to shoulder.
A silence passes, more relaxed than before. Comfortable only in the way that they can make it.
"You really mean that?" Tommy asks, hating how fragile he sounds. "That you wanted it to be me? Even if I'm not- if I'm not-"
"There isn't anything you aren't to me Tommy." Wilbur says, curling an arm around Tommy's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his hair. "I'm glad to have you as my other half sunshine. Truly."
Tommy sighs happily and leans into Wilbur's warmth, all his pent up anxieties loosening and drifting away. Once it's all gone, all Tommy can see is a long happy future with his best friend, with his brother, with his soulmate.
...
"Get the ukulele," Wilbur demands.
Tommy leans back in his chair, does a couple of half swivels with his foot. "Call her by her name Wilbur."
"I am not calling the ukulele that I bought you-"
"What?" Tommy crows, all banterous and gremlin-like. "What? What are you not gonna call her?"
" Anything." Wilbur huffs. "Much less what your child brain came up with."
"Oh, Wilbur you love my brain, you think I'm so clever and smart and cool- and you're right! Because I am." Tommy goes, rolling his chair out of view of the camera. When he can't see, Wilbur lets the smile he's been biting back come full force- a thing bright with fondness and pride and joy. Disgusting, really, the way Tommy makes him happy. Horrible, truly, the way this child is literally Wilbur's favorite person.
"I think-" Tommy says, sounding distant from his being far away from the mic, "I think you're just scared. You're a bit of a bitch if I'm being honest."
"As long as you're being honest." Wilbur snarks.
"Well I try," Tommy rolls back over, now holding the ukulele, "I really do."
Wilbur watches him tune for a bit, drumming his fingers against his desk in anticipation. He's got the energy to jump up and do fucking high knees or something, he's so excited. And he won't admit it, but he's also nervous- which isn't sensible because this is Tommy and he makes everything one thousand percent better.
But still, it'll be his first time genuinely connecting with Tommy through their link and it's a lot. What if it goes wrong? What if Tommy doesn't feel good about it and he hates Wilbur but is just too nice to tell him? It could happen, Tommy kept the fact that they were soulmates secret since before SMP Earth. What if he just-
"Excited?" Tommy asks, pulling Wilbur's attention away from his thoughts. Tommy's gone all gentle now, done with bantering, but Wilbur recognizes that furrow in his brow and the way his leg is jumping.
"Yeah," Wilbur answers, "nervous too."
Tommy pauses, looking surprised at Wilbur's easy admittance. He ducks his head a little, starts fiddling with the ukulele. "Me too," he admits. Then he grins. "But I ain't no bitch Wilbur- let's fucking go."
And there's Tommyinnit again, blustering his way through both his own anxiety and Wilbur's with just a few curses and a whole lot of false confidence.
"Alright, alright-" Wilbur breathes, "you start off."
Tommy settles, going all serious, descending on the ukulele like he's on a mission. He plucks a few notes, and gets a steady strumming going and Wilbur takes a breath.
There's no life, without love they say
None worth having anyway
You're a mystery to me some days
That's what keeps me sane
Wilbur watches as Tommy's shoulders loosen, clearly feeling the result of their link opening. To Wilbur it doesn't feel much different yet- just the constant single boosting of an unanswered call. Patiently waiting for someone to pick up.
A heart that yearns is always young
But you can't love just anyone
It's been a while since 21
But I still feel the same
For a moment, Wilbur is all nerves- what if Tommy doesn't pick up his call? What if Wilbur's left always reaching out to no reply? What if he's to be alone-
Tommy opens his mouth, and starts to sing along.
Take me home and don't spare the horses
Away to a silence I need
Take me home and don't spare the horses
Away to a gossamer breeze
I don't need to build a house of stone
Wherever you are is where I call home
Wilbur instantly notices the difference- he feels lighter, like an injury that he didn't realize was plaguing him finally healed, or like he finally opened the curtains in a room he didn't know was dusty. And the weirdest thing- he can feel what Tommy's feeling. He's excited, longing, a bit nervous, full of energy because of it, and there's love. Just, so much love. All of it balled up right there behind his throat. All of it for Wilbur.
Wilbur tears up at the feeling and feels a burst of determination to match, if not exceed all Tommy was giving him. By the end of the song they both have steady tears streaming down their cheeks and matching beaming smiles.
"Wow," Tommy says softly, awed, scrubbing at his face. "That was-"
"Yeah," Wilbur finishes when Tommy can't. "Well worth the wait." He pauses and then goes, " you were well worth the wait."
Tommy flushes and looks away, all pleased. "Thanks Wilbur. And you know what, I told you that my soulmate would love pigstep and minecraft just as much as I did, I was right."
Wilbur rolls his eyes, and Tommy, just because he can, starts plucking the notes of pigstep, with a shit eating grin.
"Put that ukelele down or else,"
"What ukelele?" Tommy asks, still playing away, "which one? I don't know what you're talking about Wilbur- I just don't know."
"You little gremlin," He says fondly. He makes a big show of sighing heavily, like he's never been more exasperated in his life. "Fine. Just this once- please put bitchette away and stop playing pigstep from the Minecraft OST before I give up singing for the rest of my natural born life."
Tommy laughs triumphantly. "You wouldn't give up singing."
"I would."
"You wouldn't really," he insists.
"No," Wilbur says, "I wouldn't. Not when I've got a lifetime of singing with you."
Tommy goes all soft again. " Wilbur, you bastard. Come down again. This weekend."
"Okay."
Tommy blinks. "That's it? Just- you just- okay?"
"We've got time to make up for." Wilbur shrugs. "And I've got songs to teach you. And I'm sure you have instruments that you can play that you've been keeping secret from me."
"Maybe," he says, grinning slyly, "maybe I'll trumpet for you. Who knows. And you'll buy me McDonalds?"
"I knew it, you only love me for my money."
"You're just a pushover Wil." Tommy informs. "As I said, bit o' a bitch."
"Yeah, child, I'll buy you your Mcnugget happy meal."
"Yes!" Tommy spins all the way around in his chair. "To celebrate this momentous occasion, how about some Lovejoy?"
"Is this a request or are you gonna play?" Wilbur asks, teasing, already reaching for his guitar.
"It's a very impassioned plea- please Wil, it's so good."
"Alright," he cradles his guitar, running a hand down the frets. "As long as you sing with me, yeah?"
Tommy nods frantically, his smile growing. "Yeah, yeah, I will. I'll sing with you Wil. You couldn't pay me to not."
"Good," and then he strums the first couple of chords to One day, once again biting back the fond smile that wants to break through because of his soulmate.
One day, I know that you will be there
One day, I'll focus on the future, maybe
One day, oh baby, isn't life so
Fucking inconsistent?