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From the time he was very young, Seawatt did not believe in soulmarks.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think they existed; he knew they did. His parents had them. Shiny complimentary shimmers deeply imprinted into each of their hands. Seawatt spent many days as a young child tracing the curves and swirls. Mother had told him all about soulmarks, and how they represented a player’s soul and the way it linked with their soulmate. For theirs, Mother’s half was an old scar- a burn mark she had gained while brewing as a teenager. Father’s was a little more traditional, being the swirls of an elaborate jewelry piece he had inherited from Seawatt’s grandmother. Despite the vastly different appearances, the markings were gorgeous together. The old burn looked purposeful, like beautiful lines of shading all across the golden chains from Father.
Soulmarks were supposed to be special and important. Receiving your soulmark was said to be one of the most impactful moments of a player’s life. Some were born with their soulmarks, others earned them over the course of the years.
Seawatt?
When the first part of his soulmark appeared, it was only weeks before his world was destroyed.
The mark was incomplete, he knew. It had come from his fated partner, and not from Seawatt himself. As such, the feelings that came from it were dulled. Seawatt hadn’t even noticed that it appeared until late one night, rubbing what he thought was a scattering of bug bites across his right bicep, when he realized that the texture beneath his fingers was different from any normal bite or mark. Ripping up the sleeve of his nightshirt, he was greeted with a beautiful pattern of stars across his arm.
And yet… Seawatt was nervous. Not excited. Why wasn’t he excited? He rubbed the mark absently, eyes dark.
He had heard that there were bad things coming their way. The Fighters tried to hide it from the younger players, but Seawatt wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t a child. He knew something was about to happen, and he didn’t have time to think about silly stars on his skin, regardless of how pretty they were. If his soulmate couldn’t stop the building fear amongst his people, then Seawatt didn’t have time to care.
After that… he forgot about his soulmate for a while. Even if he wanted to think about them, he couldn’t. His home was gone. His family was dead.
And AJ didn’t have stars across his bicep.
Seawatt was hung up on that fact more than he thought he should be.
The Old Man- the one who had taken everything from Seawatt- was gone, and in his place was a handsome new Champion, who took a particular liking to Seawatt. Seawatt couldn’t refuse the man’s advances. How could he? AJ was the Champion of Parkour Civilization. He held more power than any other player in the world. If he wanted Seawatt, then he would have Seawatt, like it or not.
Seawatt was more than happy to give himself to the other man. AJ did not have stars across his biceps, but he did have deep, knowing eyes, and teeth that knew exactly where to bite to force his prey to submit. He had a smooth, confident voice, and roaming hands that would not hesitate to explore every inch of his lover’s body, soulmarks be damned.
AJ was not Seawatt’s soulmate, and he knew it, and that only made their time together even more delicious. It was against the rules. It was against nature itself. The very world was pulling Seawatt towards a player with a starry patch across their bicep, and instead of following the string that fate had laid out for him, Seawatt was breaking free of it and making his own decisions. AJ could claim him, and Seawatt would give it all up. That was the way things went.
And when the Champion, naked body hovering over Seawatt’s and whispering sweet nothings into his ears, wrapped a golden band over Seawatt’s mark, hiding it from the world, then Seawatt accepted it without protest. Even when the band seemed to sear into his skin. Even when an explosion of feelings not his own swamped over him. Even when he was suddenly met with the love of a player who did not know him. Seawatt did not need to look to know that his own part of the soulmark had just been imprinted forever into his flesh. AJ had said it was a symbol of his status. A bright, golden shine that reminded everyone who looked that Seawatt was owned by the Champion himself. Little did AJ know, it was the thing that was supposed to prove to the world that Seawatt belonged to someone else entirely.
Seawatt did not tell his lover about the soulmark.
He did not tell anyone about the soulmark.
Soon, even Seawatt himself started to forget about the soulmark.
In the early days, it was harder to ignore the emotions. It almost hurt to hold it back, to force the block over his soulmate’s existence. To ignore the overwhelming sense of love and happiness, quickly turning sour and scared and hurt as he refused to give anything back. It became easier with time, and soon enough he barely even noticed it.
Then the green band appeared around the soulmark. New. Different. Unprecedented. Soulmates belonged to no one but each other. It was unheard of for a player to have two soulmates. And yet, that was what the Fighter was faced with.
A player with stars, and a player with a green band.
And the man who hid them both with the very golden bangle that forever marked him as theirs.
Now, Seawatt’s soulmark had changed all over again.
Whenever he reached out to it, he was not met with soft, leathery skin or the shimmering warmth of love. He was not met with comfort and affection and love. He was not met with the silent proof that he was loved, that someone out there loved him, that someone out there would miss him.
Instead, he was met with charred flesh and dried blood.
What did it mean for a player, to have their soulmark burned by the assumed permanence of death? Seawatt should never have been revived, and this was his evidence. A burned mark, the physical evidence of the bond he had denied for so, so long.
Soft, pitiful tears- unbefitting of a player of his status no doubt- dripped down his face as he sat on the edge of the world. Below him was the void, deep and warm and sparkling with distant stars so similar to the stars that EMF had so generously given him years ago. How pathetic was he? A man who spent so long denying his fate, only to grieve so much once the fate was no longer his?
EMF and Evbo had a life to live together now, and they could do it without ever worrying about Seawatt. Seawatt, who had rejected them. Seawatt, who had hurt them more than anyone else. Seawatt, who would’ve done it all a third time if it meant getting his life back.
Seawatt, a lonely man who no longer had anything left to lose but tears.
He hated crying. It was pathetic and useless and hypocritical. And yet, Seawatt couldn’t help but grieve.
There was a shallow emptiness in his chest where a bond once held true. He hadn’t realized just how negative his own emotions were until he was cut off from everyone else. He couldn’t feel EMF’s content affection as he watched Evbo parkour, or Evbo’s excitement at having made a difficult jump. He couldn’t feel the combined love of the both of them when they embraced late at night. He couldn’t feel anything but the empty, twisting negativity that had defined his life for so long.
And really, why did he stay? Why didn’t Seawatt simply jump? He wouldn’t be missed. He wouldn’t be noticed.
There was really only one reason why.
A very big reason, who never seemed to realize how suffocating his presence was regardless of whether he was visible or not.
“If you’re going to spy on me, you may as well be visible.”
Evbo was achingly predictable. Even without the strings of fate that had once bound them, Seawatt knew the godling would appear once called out. He did at least have the decency to appear embarrassed though, his face flushed sheepishly and a nervous chuckle playing on his lips.
“Sorry, Seawatt. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Wanting to make sure I didn’t jump into the void and ruin all your hard work bringing me back, more like.”
In truth, Seawatt wasn’t actually entirely sure of the young god’s motives for sticking around. He had so much more important things to be working on, like the entire world, for example. Or the one who still shared his mark, on a smaller scale. Instead, he kept wasting time on Seawatt.
Seawatt had had his chance, and he had ruined it entirely on his own terms. The least Evbo could do was let him mope around in peace.
No matter how hard he tried not to, Seawatt couldn’t help but let his eyes dart to Evbo’s soulmark. The godling, predictably, had no reason to hide his mark. He flaunted it proudly, as most players- sans the Pros, they never were fond of showing their soulmarks- were fond of doing.
The mark, though, looked… wrong. It wasn’t burnt through like Seawatt’s was, but it was clear that it had undergone severe trauma. The gold band that had once encapsulated the entire thing was now a thick blotch of shiny white scar tissue. The stars and green circle were still present, but without the golden backing, they were almost hidden in the pale color of Evbo’s skin.
Seawatt’s death had destroyed his own soulmark, but it had also done irreparable damage to Evbo and EMF’s.
At least theirs healed.
Seawatt’s never seemed to stop bleeding.
Evbo sat beside Seawatt, gazing out over the void in thought. Self-consciouslessly, Seawatt raised one hand and rubbed at his burnt soulmark. It was a poor attempt to hide it without making it obvious that that’s what he was doing. Anyone would see through it, even Evbo. The godling’s face twisted with grief.
“Why did you always hide your soulmark?”
Seawatt heard the underlying meaning. Evbo was never good at controlling his face, and Seawatt had never been so glad for it. Evbo was supposed to be his soulmate. They were supposed to be happy together. Fate itself demanded it.
And yet…
“Hitting me with that right off the bat, are we?” Seawatt said instead of answering. Evbo seemed to wilt even more than he had before.
Seawatt knew he had hurt Evbo and EMF deeply by hiding his soulmark. It was a blatant rejection. A refusal to abide by fate and give in to the love they had been so willing to share. And really, they had been so willing to share it with him. Evbo and EMF had loved him deeply, and Seawatt was left with this knowledge stinging at the edges of his scorched bond. Seawatt didn’t know if they still loved him. He hoped they didn’t. For their sake.
“Would you rather I beat around the bush for twenty minutes before finally asking you?”
“...No, I suppose not.”
And then, a long stretch of silence.
What exactly did Evbo want to hear? That Seawatt regretted it? That Seawatt loved him and EMF, regardless of whether their soulmarks were still intact? That he had hidden the soulmark because he had to, and not out of his own choice?
Something told him that none of those answers would suffice. Seawatt had hidden his mark because he was a deeply, deeply selfish man, who couldn’t stand the idea that fate had made a decision without his input. He hated following orders so much that he burned his entire existence down just to prove that he could. And yet, he still followed AJ to bed every night, per the Champion’s orders. Wasn’t that simply hilarious? Not only was he selfish, but he was also a hypocrite. What a combination. What an amazing thing to have in a soulmate.
Parkour God, people as precious and pure as Evbo and EMF shouldn’t have to suffer with someone so vile as him, regardless of what fate told them to do. At least Seawatt’s selfishness spared them that fate.
“Your soulmark…?” Evbo pressed.
“Never wanted it,” Seawatt forced out before Evbo could continue. He swallowed harshly and squeezed his eyes shut. Inhale, breathe, focus. “I had just started working for the Champion when mine showed up. He gave me the bangle to wear as a sign of my status and when I tried taking it off that night, it was like it had burned into my skin.” Seawatt had to steel himself again. Breathe. Don’t cry. Don’t make yourself more pathetic than you already are. “And there were these… emotions that weren’t mine. And I almost considered indulging in it, you know. To embrace that feeling of not being totally alone. But…”
Love. Worry. Affection. Warmth. Softness. All of it had come through the link so much that Seawatt couldn’t handle it. The pain was greater feeling those emotions that it was to block them out. It was easy to believe that nobody loved him when he forced himself to ignore the strangers who adored him. They couldn’t love him. They didn’t know anything about him.
And who could possibly love Seawatt, anyway?
“But I just… I knew that whoever my soulmate was was a better person than me, because they just glowed when the mark appeared. I realized that I would never be the person they wanted to be with, and I guess I hoped that they would just give up if I didn’t reciprocate. A-and-” No, please. Don’t stutter. Don’t act like a faultless victim. “It-it hurt, you know? Ignoring it until I could barely feel it anymore. But I had to. I couldn’t let… I couldn’t let some innocent person have me as a soulmate.”
“Sea…”
How could Evbo’s voice still sound like that? So sad. So fond. So full of love. They weren’t soulmates anymore. The mark was gone. They had nothing connecting them anymore.
So why was Evbo still here? Why hadn’t he just let Seawatt go?
“It’s stupid, I know. You don’t have to tell me that. You don’t have to go on some grand spiel about ‘Oh Seawatt, it’s so stupid for you to think that. Soulmates are the universe’s way of telling you who your perfect match is blah blah blah- I don’t want to hear it.”
And for another moment, there was a blissful silence between them. Except this time, it was warmer. Full of promise and expectations. Full of affection. The things that had once scared Seawatt so much now drew him in with its allure. What he wouldn’t give to start all over. To indulge in the love he was granted so freely. What he wouldn’t give just to let himself feel, so much more than the pit of anger and hatred he had dug for himself. He wanted to give back everything he had been given and taken advantage of, and now it was far too late. He had gone too far. He had ruined it. Just like he ruined everything else he touched.
“I wasn’t lying back then, you know.”
Evbo’s voice was as soft as a leaf falling on a pond. Quiet, gentle, soft, and leaving a tiny path of ripples in its wake. Seawatt did not look at him.
“About what? There’s been quite a few lies shared between us.”
“About… about someone being lucky to have you as a soulmate.”
What?
“I know that your mark is… gone. But I still want to try with you. Underneath EMF’s words, his hurt, he still wants to try with you. We were meant to be together.”
Seawatt said nothing. He couldn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? How could he possibly say anything to this level of forgiveness he was being granted? How did Evbo make it sound so easy?
That was it. Evbo made it sound so easy. So simple. Like it was a small choice and not the active decision to defy fate all over again. Evbo had no reason to be here. He had no obligations to Seawatt. And yet, he came here. He had been coming here every single day, watching Seawatt from a distance without ever forcing him to speak or expose himself. Soulmark or no soulmark, Evbo was here anyway, offering a hand, offering his heart, knowing that it had a better chance of being broken all over again than receiving even an ounce of the love he had poured into that link that Seawatt had so carelessly scorched.
Evbo did not press him today, either. He simply sighed and placed something on the block beside Seawatt. “Just… think about it, okay?”
And with that, Evbo vanished once more.
Only when Seawatt was surely and truly alone did he look at the object that Evbo had given him.
A single golden bangle, polished to a shine and left as an offering.
As a choice.
A choice for Seawatt to make and no one else. Not AJ. Not The Old Man. Not Evbo.
Seawatt’s choice.
And Parkour God…
He wanted to choose them.
…
How would someone even start rebuilding a life after something like this?
How do you live, knowing what death tastes like?
Seawatt can still feel it sometimes- death. It wasn’t anything that ever really left him. Sometimes, he felt like he was two steps away from his body. Like some kind of vital connection between his brain and body had been snapped.
However much he loathed to admit it… loneliness exacerbated the feelings to a degree he struggled to handle on his own.
He felt closer to death than to life in some moments. Without the warmth of another player- without the grounding pressure of his soulmark- it felt like he was floating. For so long, he thought he had done a good job of ignoring the soulmark. Now, he realized just how much he relied on it to stay steady.
Hatred, the only thing he purposely let through the link, was still a feeling. It was still something.
The silence was so much heavier now.
It started small, the ways they let him in. Seawatt was not expecting immediate forgiveness for his crimes, and EMF had no intention of granting it. The Champion watched him like a hawk, wary eyes tracking the Fighter’s movements like a simple footstep could be the beginning of his next evil plan.
Seawatt couldn’t blame him. EMF had no way to keep a check on his emotions anymore. He didn’t know what Seawatt was feeling at any given moment. If Seawatt had any more schemes left in him, it would’ve been much easier to act on them.
Evbo wasn’t nearly as suspicious or hesitant, but he withheld touch and affection from Seawatt like it had to be earned. Truthfully, Seawatt didn’t think Evbo was doing it out of malicious intent or as a message to Seawatt about his place amongst them, but rather because he simply never told Evbo that he wanted to try.
The Fighter wanted to let his actions speak for themselves.
It was around that time that the burned soulmark started to scab over. The skin had turned rough and pulled fiercely at the skin with every movement, and the entire space was in a near-constant state of unbearable itchiness, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Not unless the scabs were broken.
Evbo seemed pleased with this development. He looked over the wound with a satisfied hum, as if he had done something tremendous to make the ever-open wound finally start to heal over.
Seawatt knew that EMF and Evbo were his soulmates. He knew, realistically, that love inherently came from that sort of bond.
And yet, he still found himself surprised when he found himself genuinely starting to fall for the two. Not because of a soulmark. Not because fate demanded it. But because they were wonderful, and warm, and soft, and EMF’s hands moved so expertly across the Command Blocks and Evbo was so talented at parkour and seeing it made a tiny ember light within the Fighter’s chest.
Still, Seawatt hovered at the edge. He stayed just far enough from them that he didn’t have to see the finer details of their soulmarks. Their silent conversation didn’t need space, but nearness made Seawatt’s mark burn with a phantom ache. The reminder of what he could’ve had. The reminder of the people he could’ve loved without remorse.
But EMF was growling at him less and less. His fur still bristled, and his tail still lashed, but his growls were starting to fade with time.
And Evbo was allowing himself to stand closer. Never close enough for his warmth to reach Seawatt, but closer than anyone had stood beside him since Evbo himself on the Fighter Layer, and AJ before him.
Had Evbo loved him back then? Had AJ ever loved him?
The first time EMF didn’t growl felt like a moment that Seawatt would never forget, only matched by Evbo lightly resting a hand on his shoulder as the godling walked past.
Minor. So, so minor. But they were massive stepping stones for the Fighter who didn’t even deserve those small kindnesses.
Seawatt began to wonder if the day would come when his soulmark would fully scar over.
…
It started as a bad day.
Bad days were not rare for the Fighter. Honestly, if Seawatt had to keep track, he would easily say the bad days outnumbered the good.
There were good days, sure. It wasn’t like they didn’t exist at all.
It just… always felt out of his grasp. Good days were a rare occurrence. He appreciated them when they happened.
But bad days… well, there were a lot of pitfalls for Seawatt to stumble into. He was, by all intents and purposes, a failure. Someone once so promising, so ambitious, and yet he had failed every single thing he had ever set his mind to.
On days like this, he rarely even showed his face to the outside world. He preferred to lock himself away, feeding into the dark thoughts by shying away from any particle of light trying to sneak through the curtains, gently prodding at the wound across his arm. The sharp sting of pulling at the scabs and the gentle rivulets of blood he had to clean up after they broke free gave a certain sense of satisfaction.
And so what if he went a little too deep sometimes? It’s not like it would scar worse than it would if he took care of it properly.
Seawatt’s plans all basically revolved around rotting in his bed for the rest of the day. Maybe he would feel better tomorrow. Maybe he would stay here for so long that he would wither away and vanish. The world would be better for it anyway.
He almost didn’t hear the gentle knock on his door. Even when he did register it, he chose to ignore it. Answering the door meant that someone would see him in this pathetic state.
The Fighter snorted to himself, hands dancing over the burn. So what if they did?
When the player let themselves in anyway, he couldn’t help but groan. It had to be Evbo. He was the only one with enough of a lack of self awareness to walk into someone’s house when they were trying to rot away unseen.
“Seawatt?” The voice came after a long moment, soft and unsure. Seawatt threw an arm over his face and said nothing. Evbo. He knew it. “Um… I’m not sure if you’re not home or if you’re ignoring me, but if it’s the latter… um… EMF made dinner. I figured I’d invite you to have some. I think you’d like it.”
Seawatt held his breath, still hiding away in his room. Evbo sounded genuinely nervous, like Seawatt would jump out at any moment and club him over the head without warning. He heard Evbo’s hesitant footsteps for another moment, pausing every so once in a while. Once, he swore he heard the godling hiss beneath his breath.
He wasn’t sure when he got out of the bed or why. He wasn’t sure exactly what made him decide to meet Evbo in the living room. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered to acknowledge the existence of the young god in his house.
“You are home!” Evbo chirped, his emerald eyes alight with joy. His hand dropped away from the mark across his bicep, as if he had been clutching it for comfort. Seawatt ducked his head away, his own arm twinging. “Are you hungry?”
No, Seawatt wanted to say. Leave me alone, he wanted to snap. I don’t want you here. You’re not my soulmate anymore. Stop pitying me. You should’ve let me stay dead. Why are you even here?
Evbo’s voice, his presence, was such a fascinating thing. A creature who spent his hatchling years plucking his dying feathers and singing his song to an audience of no one, now on top of the world. His feathers still dull. His song still raspy. And yet, he never seemed to care. Why would he? He had a beautiful soulmate who loved him with all his heart.
Something about that had almost hurt more than anything else. Seawatt had once been able to feel the love oozing from EMF. He adored Evbo, long before they ever met face to face.
Seawatt didn’t have an excuse for his feathers to be so patchy and his song to be so flat. He had done it to himself.
Why would the Parkour God himself care about the man who rejected him so thoroughly that he burned the signs of their love out from his very flesh?
Seawatt wasn’t sure when Evbo stepped forward. He only noticed when a hand rested on his cheek, causing the Fighter to jerk back with a snarl.
Evbo’s brow creased at the reaction.
“Are you sick?” Evbo asked after a minute. “You feel warm.”
“Why do you care?” Seawatt snapped back without hesitation. “I’m not your soulmate anymore. Why are you even here?”
“I- I mean, just because the mark is burned, it doesn’t mean that we’re not-“
“We’re not, Evbo. How many times do I have to reject you before you realize that?” The words felt like acid as Seawatt spit them out. Anger and self-hatred boiling in his gut, rising from his chest and spilling out as spite against anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire. “I’ve hidden my soulmark since before you were even alive. What makes you think I’ll suddenly start listening to it now?”
Evbo was quiet.
“I don’t understand you,” Seawatt growled. “What do you think you’re going to get from this? From treating me like there’s still something between us? Like fate itself didn’t announce that we should have never been soulmates? Is it because I’m some kind of project for you? Like I’m something broken to be fixed? News flash, Evbo: stronger people than you have tried. You can’t fix me.”
If they were birds, flourishing their feathers to the sky, then Seawatt was a grounded crow, who ripped his own flight feathers out just to prove that he could.
“I don’t…” Evbo said quietly. Slowly. He inhaled, then spoke again, stronger. “I don’t want to fix you. You’re a person, Seawatt, not a… a bad jump. What I want is to… Parkour God, that sounds sappy…” Evbo shook his head, frustrated. “I want to know you, Seawatt. The real you. EMF and I… we know so much about each other. We always have, you know? Cause before we met, we were always… still there. I don’t know anything about you. And I want to.” He set his jaw, fierce and determined. “Soulmates be damned. I want to understand why you are the way you are. Why you’ve done the things you’ve done.” Evbo looked away. “I don’t want to be told who to love because of a mark. I want to feel your love, even if I can’t feel it in the same way as I feel EMF’s.” His voice cracked. “I want you to love us like we love you.”
…god damnit.
God fucking damnit.
Why couldn’t he make sense? Why couldn’t Evbo be like every other player in the world and let Seawatt rot away like he deserved? Why was he so desperate for this?
Why did he care so much?
Seawatt had once spent years in AJ’s bed, allowing himself to be used as a toy just to feel the thrill of denying the universe’s claim that he was meant for someone else. He had let himself be beaten and bloodied and claimed all in the same breath, just so the world knew that he wasn’t going to listen to the mark on his arm.
The entire time, those on the other side were so desperate to reach him. To love him. To freely give him the things that AJ ripped away. They had wanted to love him. They had wanted him to love them back. And he had rejected them again and again and again and again.
So why?
Why was he suddenly listening?
Why was he letting the universe tell him what to do now that the soulmark was gone?
He didn’t know who initiated it. Who was to blame. He didn’t even know why it happened in the first place.
All he knew was that suddenly, he was kissing Evbo.
It wasn’t deep or passionate. It wasn’t even all that romantic. It was sudden, intense, pitifully desperate.
Seawatt wanted to be loved. Parkour God, he wanted to be loved. He didn’t care if they were made to love him by the universe’s will. He just wanted to be loved.
He wanted to be wanted.
And he had been wanted. For so, so long. EMF had wanted him. Evbo had wanted him. And here he was, being given yet another chance that he didn’t deserve, and he simply couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t handle pushing it away. He couldn’t handle not knowing what it felt like.
When Seawatt first met Evbo and EMF… he had felt it. This bright, powerful thing, of the two people gifted to him being so close. His soulmark had once sang with their presence, desperate to be closer, closer. He longed to run his fingers across their marks and see if they felt different. He wanted to see the stars and the circle in their origin. He wanted wanted wanted and he wasn’t allowed to want, and that made him terrified.
Right now, his soulmark was still silent. A dead link can’t be revived, no matter how hard you try. Seawatt had burned it, ruined the one good thing he had in his life.
But Evbo didn’t push him away. Sure, he was definitely surprised, which was evidence that the godling had not initiated it, not that he would, but Seawatt chose to ignore that part. Instead, he focused on the feel of the other in his arms. The warmth of the godling’s chest against his own. The softness of his lips. The leathery texture of the scarred skin across his bicep.
Hmm… it did feel different than Seawatt’s use to. The skin was softer. Less rough. Clearly cared for with a gentle hand. Seawatt could imagine EMF’s furred fingers brushing against the same spots, gingerly massaging healing elixirs into the flesh to encourage the burn to heal faster. He let his thumb gently run across stars, committing the feeling to memory.
His focus was abruptly shifted when Evbo pressed further against him, almost eagerly, one hand brushing through the Fighter’s hair and the other steadying itself against his shoulder.
Why did it have to feel so real? Why couldn’t Evbo have just been lying? Why didn’t he just let Seawatt die where he laid?
“You’re beautiful,” Evbo murmured against his lips. “I want you to know that. You’re gorgeous, in more ways than I can count.”
“Why do you love me?” Seawatt asked, his own voice hushed between them. “Because a stupid mark told you to?”
“Because I want to,” Evbo said fiercely. His hands gripped Seawatt’s arms. “Come over for dinner? Please? You don’t have to stay the night. Just… at least eat something.”
“You said it was my choice.”
“You made your wishes obvious when you kissed me,” Evbo implored. “Let yourself have something for once, Seawatt. Let yourself be happy. Please… just for once.”
…happy.
That… that sounded nice. When was the last time Seawatt was able to call himself happy?
“And… and if you don’t like it,” Evbo continued, softer. “If you still don’t want it. Then I’ll leave you alone, okay? I’ll stop bugging you completely. I… I still want this to be your choice. I don’t want you to be forced into anything. But I…” Evbo buried his face in his hands. “I just want to be selfish. I’m sorry, Seawatt. Coming here was selfish of me. I’m… I’m sorry.”
Seawatt listened quietly to the godling’s apology.
How could Evbo apologize for wanting to be around? He was so beautiful, so precious. Being in the presence of the Parkour God was a blessing to any player, and knowing exactly why Evbo was here…
Seawatt wanted it. So badly. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to love. He wanted to sing his song for the entire world to hear and receive the answering melody without shame or hesitation. Seawatt’s existence was steeped with shame and yet here Evbo was, trying to encourage him closer, trying to be a part of his life. Seawatt had rejected them so much and yet here he was, here they were.
It got to a point when outrunning fate got a little tiring.
“Okay,” the Fighter murmured. “Just… give me a moment to get myself presentable.”
It was clear that Evbo wanted to argue, but he wisely bit his tongue.
Seawatt, on the other hand, was still trying to cope with the fact that he had actually kissed Evbo and the godling was still willing to let him choose to walk away. How could Evbo call himself selfish for coming here when Seawatt wanted nothing more than to take and take and take?
‘Presentable’ was a goal that Seawatt couldn’t quite accomplish without extensive personal care that not even sweet, loving Evbo would be patient enough for, but honestly Seawatt was beyond caring about the details. Why not show up at his worst? Why not show them exactly what they would be dealing with?
Why was Seawatt so desperate to lose everything all over again?
EMF did not growl when Evbo walked in with the pathetic mess of a Fighter trailing behind him, which led Seawatt to believe that he was at least previously informed about it. Instinctively, Seawatt’s eyes darted towards EMF’s soulmark, scarred but intact.
There weren’t many words shared between them over dinner, but the silence wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. It was punctuated with little looks, mostly shot between EMF and Evbo but occasionally towards Seawatt as well. The food was… passable. EMF’s cooking skills weren’t quite as impressive as his parkour skills, but they weren’t completely neglected either.
EMF and Evbo really did look good together, though. They were so physically different and yet complimented each other beautifully. Evbo’s emerald eyes to EMF’s pearlescent ones. The godling’s pale hair and fair skin compared to the Champion’s dark fur and stars. It was breathtaking for anyone, and even more so for the Fighter who had to come to terms with the idea that these were the players who were once supposed to be his.
EMF’s emotions had always been so warm, so powerful. He spoke in waves of affection and love and pride, so strong that even Seawatt’s block hadn’t been enough to completely tune them out. He could almost imagine EMF’s emotions now, warm and soft but wary as he kept one eye on Seawatt, ready to fight if needed. Ready to protect what was his.
The silence stretched beyond dinner and into the night, when Seawatt was preparing to go home and EMF caught him before he could fully commit. The Champion looked nervous, like he wasn’t quite sure about what he was about to say, and for a moment Seawatt truly believed he was about to be on the receiving end of a shovel talk.
Then, in a small voice entirely unbefitting of the mighty Champion, EMF simply asked, “Are you staying here tonight?”
And soulmarks be damned, Seawatt wanted nothing more than exactly that. He wanted to know what it felt like to be held to sleep. What it felt like to be utterly and completely surrounded by warmth and affection. He wanted to know what EMF’s fur would feel brushing against his bare skin, what those claws would feel like tracing the scars across his back.
Seawatt did not respond verbally. Instead, his only response was to slowly place his jacket back down and allow himself to be limply led away from the door.
The next day, looking in the mirror, Seawatt noted that parts of his soulmark had finally started to scar over.
…
No words were shared between them upon waking up the next morning, but the silence was not an awkward one. It was warm. Soft. Something that Seawatt had never experienced before.
He had been effectively crushed between the two other players, Evbo on one side and EMF on the other, and even upon waking they did not move from that position for a long time.
EMF had folded himself over Seawatt, furred limbs casually draped over bare dark skin, chin resting over the Fighter’s shoulder and a purr rising from deep within his chest. Claws, sharp but gentle, ran through the Fighter’s tangled hair, carefully pulling free knots and tangles without pulling unnecessarily.
Evbo had curled himself up in Seawatt’s arms, folded into what was effectively a ball as he preened under the soft fingers trailing across his spine. He nuzzled his face into Seawatt’s chest and sighed contently.
Seawatt didn’t know what this was.
Sure, from his end, he could put a word to it. But the word just… didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel like lust. It didn’t feel like what he had with AJ. With or without a soulmark, this felt so much different.
The word was there, and if he reached out he could grasp it, but terror shot through his veins every time he tried.
He… he had never been held so gently before.
“Your soulmark looks better,” EMF rumbled after a full lazy hour of stillness. Seawatt only hummed in response as the gentle claws rested against the burned mark. The touch didn’t sting like it used to, but it still ached something fierce. “How does it feel?”
“Like nothing,” Seawatt sighed. “I still can’t feel it.”
“Mm.” EMF hummed, the vibration starting in his chest and running through the Fighter’s entire body. “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Yeah,” Evbo murmured into Seawatt’s chest. “We’re both glad.”
Leave. Leave. Get away. Shake their hands off of you and run as far as possible. Leave. Leave.
Seawatt hummed in acknowledgement. He tilted his head down and pressed his nose into the godling’s hair. It was surprisingly soft. Well-taken care of. He wondered if EMF was the one who did that for him.
The image exploded behind his eyes before he could stop it. Evbo, open and vulnerable, soft and pliant beneath the careful claws of his soulmate as EMF worked hair care products into the brittle strands and fought to bring life back where it had once been stripped. Seawatt’s chest burned with the sudden desire to see such vulnerability. To have the most powerful people in the world fall limp beneath his hands.
It had always been his wish, to have the players around him in the palm of his hand. To hold the strings they danced upon. He could feel those strings now, tightening around his fingers, pressing into the burnt flesh of his bicep, and it encouraged him to curl his nails into Evbo’s back.
The godling gave a surprised yelp, but Seawatt was careful not to truly hurt him. Before Evbo even had the chance to complain, Seawatt was pressing kisses into the soft hair beneath his chin.
EMF’s purring stuttered, hesitant, but upon seeing the way Evbo melted into the affection, he seemed to back off. Seawatt wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t hurt either of them. He simply wanted to bring them to their knees, take their weakest moments and pounce upon them like a predator. He wanted to show them exactly what he was capable of doing. He wanted to feel their bodies beneath him, soft and pliable, and then…
Then…?
Then nothing.
He wanted to make them fall beneath his hands, and still look at him like they trusted him. He wanted to strip them of everything, see the both of them bare and delicate, then take all of that delicacy and shield it against the horrors of the world and himself.
He had never felt like this before. Such violence. Such protectiveness.
The universe was right about him. It was right to give him this soulmark.
He was smitten.
He wanted them.
He wanted them.
He wanted every single fragile and delicate and tender piece of them.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
Pull away, dumbass. Push them back. Tell them to get lost, to jump into the void, to forget he ever existed.
Stop.
Stop.
Seawatt was surrounded by warmth and affection and softness. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to run as far as he could.
Lips pressed against his throat, careful but fierce. EMF curled tighter around the Fighter’s body, tail curling around him and resting against Evbo’s cheek. Beneath every single press of lips, every kiss, Seawatt felt the brush of teeth. Fangs. Bared and exposed, ready to tear into his fragile little prey but forever holding back.
Just like Seawatt, EMF was born a predator. A carnivore. And Evbo was much the same. The godling wouldn’t express it in the ways that were obvious, but Seawatt could tell in the sharp, jagged points of his bitten fingernails and the yellowing of his teeth. The wear of his canines, something rarely seen in a player as soft as Evbo was.
For the first time, Seawatt realized he was not a lion feasting upon a duo of helpless gazelles. Evbo and EMF didn’t become the most powerful players in the world by rolling over and letting fate claim them. They were in love with each other not because fate forced it, because they had never listened to fate in the past. A Noob and a Master not only meeting one another, but falling in love, reaching the top, becoming the Parkour God and his faithful Champion, it was something fate itself could’ve never predicted.
And yet, here they were.
And yet, here Seawatt was.
Not as a monster. Not as a predator.
As a trio of injured songbirds, trying to remember the way their songs were supposed to sound in harmony.
“I’m sorry,” the words came out as a raspy whisper, pressed into Evbo’s hair.
It didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Seawatt croaked. “For… for everything.”
Everything he had ever said.
Everything he had ever done.
There was so much for him to apologize for.
It would be impossible to list it all, really.
But there was one thing in particular that he knew meant more to them than anything. One thing that had hurt them so deeply that Seawatt was sure he would never be forgiven for it.
Because they never hated him for what he did to the world. They never hated him for making Evbo a Noob, or for those long, painful nights with AJ. They never hated him for his violence or his hatred. They never hated him for what he had done to their bodies.
They hated him for rejecting them, so long ago. For hiding his soulmark and then lashing out when they found him anyway.
They hated him because he had done nothing but give them hate in return.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, and his voice cracked around it and suddenly there were tears dripping down his face, hot and salty. Seawatt inhaled shakily, tensing beneath the soft embrace of the two players on either side of him, and before he could even try to stop it a terrible, harsh sob wracked his frame. If he had been in his right mind, maybe he would’ve been able to explain why he was sorry instead of just repeating the same hollow words over and over again. Maybe he would’ve been able to give specifics, to explain why he had done what he had done, and why he wasn’t good enough to deserve such softness.
He couldn’t bring himself to do any of it.
All he could do was just…
Babble helplessly like he was the victim. Like he hadn’t done all of this to himself.
“It’s scary,” Evbo murmured into his chest during a moment of quiet. Seawatt had only barely managed to wrangle his sobs into a more acceptable volume. “Having a soulmate. I always felt so guilty knowing just what I was putting EMF through every day. I don’t know how much you felt, but… life as a Noob was… it was hard. And I always hated myself so much for pushing all of that pain onto my soulmate when they couldn’t do anything about it.”
“I was terrified all of the time,” EMF rumbled from behind, his chin gently tucked against Seawatt’s shoulder. “That I would lose my soulmate. I knew whatever they were going through was something terrible, and death was so close… I spent so many nights afraid that it would be the last. I never knew that there were two… but I suspected it to be the case. And knowing that my soulmate was rejecting me… it was agony, Seawatt. Do you even know how much you hurt us? How badly your rejection hurt?”
“I do,” Seawatt breathed. “I- Parkour God- I know.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “It hurt. Every single day. Every night. Every single time he touched me. Every time I thought about you, but… I just. I don’t know.”
“He?” Evbo echoed, eyes sleepily drifting up to see Seawatt better.
“The Champion,” Seawatt murmured. “AJ. He… I thought that he was… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“The Evil Champion?” Evbo’s voice pitched slightly, though Seawatt couldn’t tell if it was from shock or disgust. “You two were…?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I thought that choosing him meant that I wasn’t… following whatever fate was making me do. I wanted to reject the very idea of soulmates.”
“‘Cause it meant someone was forced to be your soulmate even when you didn’t deserve them,” Evbo continued sadly. Seawatt flinched harshly as he heard his old words echoed back at him. He had entirely forgotten that he had shared those words with Evbo, that one night not so long ago. How had so much changed in such a small amount of time?
“Well…” EMF hummed, claws gently running through Seawatt’s hair. “How do you feel now? Knowing that you don’t even have a soulmark anymore…” his hand softly drifted down to run over the slowly healing wound across Seawatt’s bicep. “…and we’re still choosing you?”
“I…” Seawatt’s throat tightened. He buried his face in Evbo’s hair and let out a shaky exhale. “Why? Why are you so forgiving? Why are you so…?”
He didn’t know what words to use. How could he even begin to explain what he was thinking? Just how much these two players meant to him?
As it turns out, he didn’t need to finish the thought.
“Because you deserve it,” Evbo answered. His voice didn’t waver. Didn’t hesitate. “Because, even after everything… I love you.”
“We love you,” EMF corrected. “Against our better judgement.”
Seawatt chuckled wetly.
“So…? What do you say, Seawatt?” Evbo twisted around in their arms until he could properly face the duo. His face was soft, vulnerable, entirely exposed. His eyes were so big, his pupils blown wide with the kind of soft affection expected between long-time lovers.
For so long, Seawatt had run from the idea of fate. Any time he was told that he was meant to do something, he did the exact opposite just to prove that he could.
Right now, though… he didn’t want to prove anything to anyone. He didn’t want to be the living evidence that fate was meaningless. He didn’t want to run away and fall back into the arms of the cycle of abuse he had lived within for so long.
Right now, cut off from all ties that had once defined him, folded within the arms of the players whose soulmarks he once shared, he felt more like Seawatt than he had ever felt before.
He just had to reach out and take it.
He just had to…
“Please,” he said, voice a hoarse croak that rattled in his chest.
“Take me.”