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Sounds of shouting rang out, spreading to the other side of the arena and bouncing back off the border. When swords clash directly next to a player’s ear, he finally snaps to the present. He floats as a ghost hovering over the spot he stood, alive and breathing, mere moments ago. Below him, the team he was fighting alongside loses the fight, and their attackers retreat.
Once his brain catches up with everything that transpired, he lets out a faint chuckle, “How did I not kill him?” He thinks of beautiful gold shining in front of him, sunlight pushing through closed blinds, and honey so sweet it makes your teeth rot with a simple thought. It’s smiling at him with a crazed look that he knows mirrors his own, high on adrenaline and in love with the person under his blade. He thinks of exploding for him, he thinks of killing for him, he thinks of dying for him.
The feeling of swinging a sword makes itself present, and a tingling sensation like muscle memory runs up and down his arms despite the player not moving and standing still in the same spot. He looks down at his motionless hands that had once held the sword he used to hurt. He’s proud of his love for beating him but can’t help picking apart his performance. The adrenaline and rush of blood to his head, reminiscent of being a red life, had caused his movements to pick up speed. His swings were erratic and did not do as much damage as intended.
Lost in thought, the player floats upwards, away from the other teams fighting below. He takes in the surrounding area and considers their placement compared to the rest of the players and the different approaches and strategies they took. He can remember a few things in his inventory that might have come in handy, but he doesn’t think he could ever forget one item. He thinks of a cooked meal getting cold, a missing soulmate, and invisible claws across his eyes. Involuntarily, his following words come rolling out. They feel familiar and fitting for the situation, like it was always meant to be that way.
“I should have eaten… gah! I didn’t eat food-” He throws his hands in the air to let his frustration explode, then drags a hand down his face in disappointment. When he opens his eyes, the match is almost over. His team’s attackers fell after they did, and groups with 1 or 2 players remaining were taking each other out left and right. Finally, the border closes, and the Cyan team wins.
Team placements and personal standings appear before him, and he notes how well his friends are doing. Some names, like FalseSymmetry and Smallishbeans, stand out to him. Their PVP skills are far above his, and he knows he wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against them, but his heart still swells with pride that his fellow hermits are dominating the competition.
The ghostly player feels a tug on his back and lets himself tip over. His eyes close automatically, and the sounds around him become muted. He’s standing back in the hub facing the decision dome when he opens them again. A beeping in his ear alerts him to his connection, coming back online, and he can hear his teammates' voices flooding in.
Everyone takes off to the dome, and he follows the crowd. He keeps his head trained on the people before him, but his eyes wander to the edges of his vision, trying to find that gold again. He’s interrupted by one of his teammates grabbing him by the hand and dragging him off, mentioning something about needing to see an elevator. However, they walk around the dome without finding it, and his mind is already moving on. He leaves the group and returns to the entrance, looking at the faces and colors of the players he passes.
He eventually gives up and sits on the steps, watching as everyone else walks around and mingles. He rests his chin on his hand and has his elbow propped up on his knee, showing his disinterest and disappointment. A sigh starts to escape past his lips, but he ends up choking as familiar gold walks right in front of him.
“Impulse, I’m so sorry. To Tango as well.” The gold sounds genuine, but he can’t see his expression because his back faces him. Impulse, noticing Tango from over the player’s shoulder, points in Tango’s direction, then waves goodbye, leaving the two alone. The gold turns around so fast Tango is worried he’d make himself dizzy; he quickly shoots up from his sitting spot and meets him halfway.
“I’m so sorry,” The gold bows his head down to the ground and shuffles forward, letting his head bump against Tango’s shoulder.
The blaze smiles and pats the other on the head, “Enough of that. Jimmy, I’d be more offended if you went easy on me than killed me. I’m proud of you, my little fighter.”
The avian squeaks at the nickname while straightening from the praise. “You’re proud of me?” Jimmy gives Tango his best-kicked puppy look, and the blaze wants to fall to his knees.
“The proudest.” Tango brushes Jimmy’s hair away and plants a kiss on his forehead. When he pushes back to admire the avian, he feels like it’s not enough and kisses him on the nose, the cheek, the corner of his eye, his jaw, his temple, next to his nose, his chin-
Jimmy huffs and wraps an arm around the blaze’s shoulders, letting one of his hands rest at the nape of his neck. Tired of beating around the bush, he pulls his head in and kisses him. It’s not quick like the teasing ones Tango gave him; it’s full of all his emotions. He’s giving the blaze all his love and admiration, letting him know how amazing and happy he makes him feel. Memories he will never forget flash through his mind. He thinks of 4 cows and warm words that follow, a beautiful song unique to them, solid arms, and a teary reunion.
He feels those same strong arms wrap around his waist and bring him closer, allowing the kiss to deepen while also saying, “I’m right here.” They take a moment to part and catch their breath but continue this dance when Jimmy whines for more. One of Tango’s hands slides up his back and rests between the spot his wings would have been, but they are hidden in his code to keep the competition fair. Jimmy can feel the urge to have those claws dig through his feathers, so he pushes his back into Tango’s hand. Immediately picking up on what he wants, the blaze scratches his shoulders and uses his other hand to steady him by the hip.
They part for air again but keep their lips and foreheads touching, breathing in each other’s space and taking in the moment. Jimmy peeks his eyes open and sees Tango with his eyes still closed, but the blaze still has a fond look on his face. Deciding enough time has passed, the avian dives in again, and they fall over from the force. Tango’s arms fly off of him as he lands on his butt while Jimmy is still busy chasing after his lips. He has his hands on either side of the blaze hybrid, locking him in place, and is on his knees between Tango’s legs.
Tango leans back when his heartbeat feels too fast and laughs at Jimmy’s eagerness, “You know, you can visit me in Hermitcraft anytime… right? You don’t have to wait for events like this to see me.”
The avian pouts and scrunches his nose, “Wh- yes, I knew that!” His voice is pitched high at the end, exposing how the thought never crossed his mind, but Tango lets him continue. “I just, I like kissing you… a lot.”
Jimmy tries to hide his embarrassment by squishing his cheek into his shoulder, but Tango knows. He smirks and can't help teasing, “Yeah, I think I got that.”
“Ugh, just shut up and kiss me”.
Tango leans in but places two fingers against Jimmy’s lips. “The next game is starting. Come visit me sometime.”