Chapter Text
Cleo was the first to wake. It wasn’t unheard of that she and her husband would spend a few nights together during the season, but it wasn’t all common. Either it was planned or a drunken whim from the parties the hermits hosted. Last night was planned weeks in advance.
She grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand, pulling her messy, orange locks out her face.
It was nice, the small and cosy wooden cottage Grian had made at the start of the season. Boatem overall had a lovely wooden village theme to all the starter bases.
She stretched, hips clicking as she pulled away the duvet. It was cold. Of course, it was cold, it was the beginning of December after all, but the cold didn’t affect her as much as it did her husband. She could be spotted in the snow still wearing her tattered top, which by now resembles more so a crop top, and her black denim shorts and striped leg warmers. Grian, on the other hand, could still wear his thick red jumper in summer and had to wear coats and scarves overtop during winter. Clothing she had altered just for him, so his wings could still be free but his back warm.
She looked down at the clothes scattered across the floor. It was a mess, but a welcomed one at that. She opted to reach for Grian’s jumper and she looked through the pile to find her panties from the night before. She didn’t need much. All of her body had already been kissed and explored by the avian snoring on the bed. Pulling the clothes on, she began her way to the en suite bathroom, tucked behind a wooden door by the ladder.
Cleo splashed her face with water and inspected it in the mirror. She sighed.
She traced the stitches going down her face. Black and prominent. Deep down the zombie knew that the hermits didn’t care, but she still missed the days in which her skin was a pale pink, rosey cheeks, skinny body and almost grey-green eyes. When she looked at herself now, all she saw was that disgusting green decay and the near neon green eyes looking back at her, dead, just like her. An animated corpse with too-obvious stitches. That was enough of the mirror. She wasn’t ageing, but she felt 100 years older than when she died. She was youthful then.
She returned to the bedroom, a small smile crept up on her face when she saw Grian was still asleep, golden locks resembling a halo of sorts and the light from the adjacent window hit his face, a smile reserved for only him, one she wouldn’t show to anyone but the man she fell for. He looked beautiful. Youthful.
Downstairs was a mess also, roses were still on the table. Orange roses, her favourite. Plates were at the bottom of the sink, along with two wine glasses and sets of cutlery. Grian had insisted he would clean them before going upstairs, but Cleo had already started to drag him away before they had even hit the bottom of the filled sink. She supposed, after such a lovely night, she’d do them as a thank. Even if the housewife stereotype annoyed her, she didn’t mind showing her husband gratitude by cleaning his house. She put the heating on as well so that Grian wouldn’t wake up cold.
Cleaning turned into more work, and soon enough she was rummaging through the cupboards. She decided on avocado toast, one of Grian’s favourite snacks. After all, he did go out of his way to make Cleo her favourite meal last night, Scar of course coming over to help cook the meat separately, as Grian refuses to touch it.
When the avian made his way downstairs, breakfast was about to be served. Two arms wrapped around her hips, too thick in her opinion. “You left me alone up there.” The mumbled, face pressed into her neck, golden locks tickling her neck. Her shoulders bounced as she let out a breathless laugh.
“I thought I’d treat you to breakfast, you know, to make up for the lovely treat you gave me last night.” She smiled, although Grian couldn’t see it. He turned his face to look down at her hands which were spreading the homemade guacamole.
“What, the dinner or the sex?” He chucked, pressing a kiss to her neck before untangling himself from her. “Cup of tea, love?”
Cleo moved a stay stand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Yeah, please.”
“I only have oat milk, is that okay?” Grian asked, opening the fridge with a click.
“That’s fine, love.” She said whilst moving the plates to the small, two chaired table near the wall.
Two mugs were set on the table beside each plate. One mug was decorated with ocelots and parrots, and the other was decorated with blue flowers and leaves.
“Last night was great.” Grian smiled, biting his toast.
“Agreed, but you really need to take better care of those shoulders, last night I had to remove so many knots,” Cleo said, her too-sharp teeth taking chunks from hers. “It’s all that flying and heavy lifting.” She continued.
“Well, I can’t just… stop, you know? It’s in my nature to fly and to build.”
“You’re going to stretch something again, I’m not saying stop, I’m just saying it might be worth asking Scar or Mumbo or even Impulse once a week to give you a massage, it would help with the aches.” She looked up at the man, smiling.
“I wish it were you.” He said with a soft frown.
“Honey, we’re not too close this season, plus we both work nonstop on builds. I wish it was different but we’re too creative and free to live together.”
They’d discussed this many times, trying to find ways to be closer but always drifting in their creative ways and their closest friends. They didn’t break their relationship though, if anything it did them good, they were too stubborn to live together, and a build they had to share would limit the freedom they loved too much.
Grian hummed in acknowledgement, not adding to the conversation. He was too childish to speak without whining about how they never seemed to be together like they used to.
“Are those stitches still bugging you?” He asked, changing the topic.
“Of course they are.” Cleo said, “I’m the one who has to live with them, if ‘live’ is even the word, I can’t get rid of them.” She sighed.
“Exactly, which is why you should accept them!” They had talked about this a few days ago when Grian caught her tracing the ones on her hands during a hermitcraft meeting. He questioned her about it afterwards.
He sighed. “I’m going off server in a week.” Odd, Grian never left the server unless it was to visit friends or for a life series.
“Whatever for?”
“Oh, just doing some research on other builds.”
She hummed. “Unusual for you.”
“I know, but my creativity has been lacking recently, I need it.” He smiled.
They eventually said their goodbyes, Grian returning to his kitchen to clean the plates, and Cleo returning to her base after returning Grian’s jumper and putting on her usual attire.
A week came and went, and it was finally the morning of the day Grian went off world.
He woke up early, had a shower and shaved his legs, pulling up a pair of shorts under his trousers. He was nervous, of course he was. He checked his communicator.
GoodtimewithScar: Morning Hermits!
Docm77: morning Scar.
He smiled, typing his own message to the server chat.
Grian: Morning world, and good morning to my lovely wife who is most likely still asleep. Oh, and good morning Scar and Boatem! I’m going off-world, I’ll be back around about 5 pm.
Grian: I know I’ll be missed a lot, but stay strong, the best flyer in the world will be back.
GoodtimewithScar: Have fun! Hope you do whatever it is you’re doing!”
He went onto his notes.
Tattoo appointment, was written at the top and underlined.
“Appointment 3:30 pm December 8th. Deposit: paid.”
He smiled, getting himself ready to leave.