Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Ex had sensed it more times than he had seen it-- there was something new in the server. It didn't particularly alarm him. He could recognise a malevolent presence when he felt one, and this wasn't it. 

     The feeling he did get from it was unlike any of the hermits he had observed. He could always recognise people by their presence, and the not-sightings of this thing were strangely sporadic. It never approached, so Ex assumed it didn't notice him, but he did happen to stumble upon it a lot . What struck him was that the areas he encountered it were always his own usual spots. Ex intentionally stayed in places he knew were outside of the hermits' radar, so why was this being avoiding them as well? The oddest thing was how impossibly this thing moved. Sometimes it would pass overhead, above the treeline, too slow to be on wings. It would blip in and out of his notice, without clearly leaving or arriving. Sometimes he would see strange experiments-- or something similar-- on the world left behind, and he could just tell it was the same being. 

     Despite all of this, he wasn't sure if it was anything other than a player until he finally saw it. Turning a corner, he looked out across a beautiful valley, the sun setting behind the mountain opposite him. Since he had been banned, he had gained a newfound respect for the server's beauties. It helped in his "not being evil" goal; whenever he started to feel overwhelmed with anger or frustration, all he had to do to dissolve his destructive thoughts was look around. 

     In the shadows, there was a flicker. Ex trained his eyes on the area, a familiar feeling steadily rising in his chest. Briefly, he worried that it was a hermit, but even if they did somehow notice him flush against the mountainside, it wasn't the biggest deal. He was certain Xisuma already knew that Ex had managed to find his way back into the world. The shadows flickered again, banishing any of that worry. This time, he could feel it. It was the same creature as before.

     Almost excited, he hunkered down to study the cryptid. His helmet helpfully expanded the image, giving him a closer look. It was hard to spot in the gaps of sunlight, but he was able to make out a humanoid figure. It hovered above the ground and moved jerkily, zipping back and forth for an unknown reason. Occasionally, it passed by a patch of light, and Ex was able to catch more details. It wore red on top-- just a bit lighter than his own armor-- and had messy blonde hair. Nothing terribly distinct. He couldn't quite tell, but it looked a little familiar. 

     Ex shifted his position slightly, and winced at the crunch of gravel. His heart sped up as the figure suddenly stopped. He rationalised that there was no way he had been detected-- they were at least 50 meters from each other-- but that didn't stop the slow turn of the figure's head. Through the enhanced camera feed in his visor, he watched as the other locked eyes with him. Ex blinked and stood still, waiting to see what it would do. 

     Another blink, and the cryptid was booking it across the valley towards him. Ex had to rush to unzoom his visor so he could keep track of its movement. It choppily walked on air, levitating at an alarming speed. Although spooked, Ex had no reason (or time) to run. 

     "Hello," it started in an almost friendly voice, "I am NPC Grian. Would you like to build a rustic house?" 

     Up close, the figure was a bit eerie. His skin was completely smooth, and he remained hovering above the ground, eye level with Ex. Now that he had ceased moving, he stood utterly still. It didn't even seem like he was breathing.

     "Uh. Hi?" 

     "Hello," NPC Grian repeated. They silently stared at each other for a moment. Awkwardly, Ex waited for more. When none came, he began to speak again.

     "What--" 

     "Would you like to build a rustic house?" NPC cut Ex off, with the same inflection as before. Ex noticed that the stranger's mouth was barely moving as he spoke. 

     "What are you?" Ex continued, ignoring the weird question. There was a moment of silence as NPC Grian calculated. 

      "I am NPC Grian," he said, again with the exact inflection, like a recording. 

     "No," Ex said, reigning back a hint of frustration, "I already know that. What are you?" NPC tilted his head to one side.

     "I do not understand the query." Ex scrunched his face up in confusion, but knew his helmet hid most of it. 

     "Well, then, how are you flying? You don't have the… wings," Ex went for an easier question, forgetting the real name of the wings the hermits bore. Once, he had been jealous of the hermits wearing wings, or the hermits who had wings naturally. As he began travelling the world on foot, though, that had faded. He liked the way the sun came down through the leaves. 

     "I am not flying. Flying is not in my programming."

     "What-- yes, you are! Look down!" 

     NPC craned his head down almost comically, staring straight down.

     "I am not flying. Flying is not in my programming," he repeated. Ex huffed; this guy really was stubborn, wasn't he? He began to regret showing so much interest in the new weirdo. Not really sure how to end the strange encounter, he turned away and continued down the path he had originally been trekking. Ten steps later, he sighed.

     Turning back around, he found that NPC Grian was steadily floating about a foot behind him. Before Ex could even ask, he spoke.

     "What are you?" NPC said, and Ex could swear he was mimicking the way Ex had asked. 

     “Uh… well, I’m Evil Xisuma! But I’m not evil.” NPC looked confused, which was the most emotion he had yet to show. 

     “You are,” he stopped, doing the same calculating that he had earlier. Even closer now, Ex saw that the inside of his eyes were shifting slightly, like he could see the gears turning in the most literal way possible. He had seen his fair share of semi-mechanical hermits, so it didn’t strike him as too odd, but it did pique his interest. 

     “...No. I’m not evil,” Ex repeated after a moment, unsure if NPC was done speaking. He was not.

     “You are,” he continued, “not Xisuma.”

     “Yeah, uh, I’m not. I’m Evil Xisuma.” Conversations with this guy were very repetitive.

    “You are not Xisuma. There is already a hermit in my database tied to that name.”

    “Well, yeah, but that’s not my name, either.” NPC Grian stared blankly.

    “I am… registering the same name…” The poor thing sounded about as confused as Ex assumed he had the capacity to, so he took pity.

     “Ah, forget it. Call me whatever you want,” he said as he turned away once more. He hiked down the mountainside, pretending to ignore the presence that levitated along with him. Although he had been a little disturbed by NPC Grian, he found that the company wasn’t too bad. Honestly, if it weren’t for the strong energy radiating from the guy and the quiet mechanical whirring every now and then, Ex wouldn’t have even noticed him. 

    They had been at it for a good few minutes, when NPC piped up with a whirring louder than before. Ex paid him no mind, but he continued to repeat the noise. 

     “You good?” Ex eventually asked, looking over his shoulder. NPC’s original friendly smile had returned, and he pointed at Ex, making the noise. “...What?”

     “Zoom,” NPC said, as if that explained everything. He made the little mechanical noise again and, sure enough, it did sound pretty close to “zoom.”

     “Uh, okay, zoom. Sure.” Ex looked at NPC’s still pointed finger, puzzled. Then it clicked. “Oh! Zoom! Like… short for Xisuma?” He wasn’t sure, but NPC Grian’s smile seemed a bit more genuine at that, so he took it as a yes. He found himself smiling a little behind his helmet.

     "You said your name was NPC Grian? Isn't that one of the hermits?"

     "I am NPC Grian! I was created by Grian to be the perfect builder. My sole desire is to build rustic houses!" 

     "Uh, sure…" Ex said, trying to pick out the important information from that. "He created you? So you're like a robot?"

     "My physical form is mechanical, although my consciousness is untethered from this realm!" NPG said cheerfully. Ex nodded sagely.

     "Felt that," he said, partially as a joke, partially thinking back to the Withermen and other spirits he used to pretend were good company. Maybe that's why NPC's energy stood out to him so much-- it was from a place similar to the realm he had once been banished to. "What's NPC stand for?"

     "Non-Player Character. Grian found that my narrow field of responses and inability to adapt reminded him of Non-Player Character levels of intelligence." Something about that didn't sit right with Ex. Was this how others saw his name? Just an uncomfortable add-on to someone else? The longer he talked to NPC, the more parallels he discovered, both in their conversations and in themselves. 

     “Well geez, that’s a bit of a mouthful,” he said, rather than expressing his other thoughts. NPC didn’t respond. He didn’t think the other picked up on it, but Ex began to feel uncomfortable talking about names. “What were you saying about… what was it, rustic buildings?” He redirected.

     Speeding forward so that he was no longer trailing behind Ex, NPC visibly lit up.

     “Would you like to build a rustic house?” He asked familiarly. Ex laughed slightly, finding the fixation on such a specific thing amusing. 

     “Uhh, sure? It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.” Or any place to live, or any knowledge on how to build. Whirring happily, NPC quickly levitated his way down the rest of the mountainside. Ex started and yelled for him to slow down, but still ended up running the precarious path to the valley. Gulping an embarrassing amount of air through his helmet respirators, he finally reached the bottom a few minutes later. 

     “Hey,” he got out between wheezes, “where’d… you… go?” In the darkness of the valley, he saw a red light gently flash off to his right, signaling him. NPC waved as he approached.

     “Where’d you get that light from?” Ex asked once he was in earshot. In lieu of answering, NPC simply looked over and displayed his eyes lighting up like flashlights. “Ah. Handy.”

     In front of them was a cleared area, presumably prepared by NPC. In the dim light, Ex could make out what looked like markings on the ground, demonstrating guidelines for a small building. To the side were shulker boxes, filled to the brim with… something.

     “Did you plan for this?” Ex asked, caught off guard. There’s no way he could have gathered and prepped this much in the few minutes it took Ex to catch up, no matter how full of surprises this guy seemed.

     “I have previously visited this location exactly three times,” NPC said, only half answering the question. Ex wandered towards the shulker boxes, deciding not to ask if NPC had specifically been planning to involve Ex or if he had just been hoarding items. The items in question appeared to be boxes upon boxes of woods, cobblestone, glass, and… trapdoors? As he examined the contents, there was a sudden presence behind him. 

     NPC glitched into existence at his shoulder, scaring the life out of Ex. He jumped away and yelped. NPC tilted his head at him.

     “What is the cause of alarm?” In the darkness, with his constant off inflection and the weird teleportation, NPC Grian truly was… creepy. Ex felt like he could trust him, but he did have to remind himself that he had only just met this guy. 

     “Oh, uh, I didn’t know you could… do that,” Ex explained nervously. NPC paused in what Ex now recognised as calculation, and whirred quietly.

     “I apologise,” he said, sounding genuine. He lowered closer to the ground, to the point where the only indication that he was floating at all was the lack of footsteps and crushed grass. Ex felt a little bad, but before he could say anything, NPC pointed to the boxes. “These items are crucial to the structure of a rustic house!”

     Ex blinked. 

     “Step One: Shut up and listen!” NPC said, making Ex snort. Any tension in the air quickly dissolved, and NPC began to lead Ex through the apparent steps. They lit torches and spread them about as night encroached. NPC seemed to fall into a comfortable rhythm, finding his place in teaching Ex. Ex felt like a good student, diligently soaking in the information. He was aware that at least basic knowledge of shelter was a pretty valuable skill. He had yet to build anything in any of the worlds Xisuma migrated to, and he had to admit that camping every night did get a little nerve-wracking. The toughest nights were the stormy ones-- he felt cold even through his armor, and everything seemed more dangerous. It was impossible to sleep between the discomfort and the paranoia. It didn’t help that the thunder never failed to make him jump and, at the worst times, tremble. The further along he and NPC got on the house, the more hopeful he felt. 

     After filling in some framework NPC had lined out for him, he took a step back to admire his work. Sure, it was very much directed and designed by NPC Grian, but he was still the one placing the blocks. 

     “Oi, Rusty!” Ex called for his attention. When there was no response, he ventured to the front of the cottage. There, he found NPC detailing the windows. “Hey, that’s you!”

     “Hmm?” NPC whirred, confused. “My name is NPC Grian.”

     “Yeah, and I’m calling you Rusty, bolt-brain.”

     “Russ-ty?” NPC pronounced slowly.

     “Yeah, like… rustic house plus the whole robot business?” Ex awkwardly mimed out a robot dance as he spoke. NPC stared at him, puzzled.

     “Rusty!” He said after a moment, in what Ex decided must’ve been a delighted tone.

     “Yeah!” Ex encouraged, motioning for him to come and look at the rest of the house. They repeated this pattern through the rest of the night, working tirelessly. Ex was kept wide awake with the slight rush of meeting someone new and the prospect of finishing a build for the first time. He wasn't sure if NPC required sleep. By the time sunrise came round, they had finished the exterior. There was still dirt strewn about on the inside and no real furniture or rooms, but Ex felt accomplished. He plopped his stuff in a corner and spun around, taking in the pride. It was maybe the first time he had felt truly proud, genuinely carefree, in as long as he could remember. 

     "Hey man," he said, turning to thank NPC, only to see he was nowhere to be found. "Rusty?" He turned round and round, expecting to catch a glimpse of red outside the windows. Walking outside, he peered around the area. "Rusty? Hello?" He called again.

     Eventually Ex returned inside, the hours of the night catching up with him. He laid out his bag as a makeshift pillow on the wooden floor and stared at the door. He didn't want to think too hard on the sudden abandonment of his new friend, but he couldn't help but keep an eye out, just in case the door swung open again.

     He fell asleep before it ever did.

Chapter Text

     The next time Ex caught sight of NPC was easily a week later. By that time, the innards of the house had begun to take a bit of shape, but not in a good way. The closest thing to furniture was a haphazardly made crafting table in the far corner and a collection of what might have been blankets. Ex's bags had been spread out messily, items in random spots on the floor. There had been a few attempts at interior design-- a section of an oak log lay in the middle of the space-- but it was evident that he had quickly given up. So, when Ex heard a faint but familiar whirring noise and a flash of bright red through his window, it was almost a miracle.

     "Were you gonna like… knock?" Ex asked upon swinging the front door open to find NPC just levitating there, not three inches from the other side.

     "Hello!" He responded uselessly. Ex rolled his eyes and let him float into the room. NPC immediately followed with the most inflectional robotic tone Ex had ever heard, exclaiming "Eugh!" at the sight that met him. 

     "What? You don't like my decorations?" He asked, only half offended. NPC didn't answer right away, just scanning the entire house. He then zipped back outside. "Hey-- wait-- come back!" 

     Ex found him only a few feet from the far side of the house, digging in what remained of the original shulker boxes. Relieved and calmed to see that Rusty hadn't just come by, insulted his house, and skedaddled off again, Ex curiously shadowed him. NPC collected what looked like a pile of various woods and shoved it into Ex's arms. He then gathered another pile and made his way back inside the house, Ex quietly following behind. 

     "Zoom," NPC directed, standing back after constructing a few guidelines for the interior walls. Ex did as instructed and finished the layout under his watchful eye. Without pause, they fell back into their system of demonstration, follow through, demonstration, follow through-- almost as if NPC hadn't mysteriously disappeared for a week. Ex was much quieter this time around, debating what to say, if anything at all. They didn't know each other very well. Rusty wasn't  obligated  to be with him. However, he couldn't deny how disheartening it was to end such a pleasant visit so suddenly. 

     As they moved past the walls, Rusty carefully showed Ex how to detail the windowsills. His nail must've been made of some sort of metal, because he used only his finger to drag engravings into the deep brown wood. Ex looked helplessly down at his gloved hands. NPC glanced over when he didn't imitate the engravings, then down at Ex's hands as well.

     "Why do you hesitate?" He asked, a subtle hint of confusion under his monotone. Ex stammered, so NPC took his hands to examine, turning them over and scanning the gloves. "I see. You do not have the same physical structure."

     "What-- no, these are just gloves." Rusty whirred curiously. Ex retrieved his hands and unclasped the wrists, sliding the mesh and metal off and exposing his pale hands. Immediately entranced, Rusty grabbed them back and investigated. Ex was startled at the ice cold metal-- by looking, he couldn't tell that Rusty would be cold  or  metal. He squished Ex's fingers lightly. 

     "Soft."

     "Uh… yeah."

     Looking back down at the windowsill engraving, NPC clumsily pulled Ex's hand down and lightly smacked the wood with the back of it. Ex's giggle was muffled by his helmet. 

     "No, I still can't do that, uh, my nails aren't strong like yours." He clicked his nails together, almost as proof.

     "... Soft." NPC said to himself, nodding. Ex snorted.

     "Sure. That."

     Instead, Ex trailed along as Rusty gracefully marked the sills, intricate and not quite identical to each other. It was possibly the most motor skills he had yet to see Rusty exhibit, yet the edges were still a little rough and uneven. When he was asked about it, Rusty said that it "helped with the rustic feeling."

     Ex wondered if he was supposed to actually believe that.

     "Where'd you go?" he asked suddenly, unable to keep his mouth shut. Rusty's hand faltered slightly, and an extra divet in the wood appeared. 

     "Elaborate," he said simply, still not facing Ex. 

     "When you disappeared last week. Or however long ago it was. When you left me," he rambled, feeling slightly embarrassed at how insistent he was being. Surely it wasn't his place to get attached to a random person he just met, but Ex couldn't help it. It was lonely out here, and it was  so  nice to have someone to talk to who wouldn't run from him or tattle to Xisuma. The constant scavenging and running stressed him out, and for that person to not only be approachable, but to gift him a home as well? It was almost too good to be true, and Ex felt his abandonment issues flare. His internally cursed his own self awareness. 

     As Ex's thoughts spiralled, Rusty dismissed them nonchalantly-- or, as nonchalantly as he could. 

     "Home," he said. 

     "Oh," Ex said, "where's that?" There was another long pause. 

     "Beneath Grian."

     "Uhhh," Ex sputtered and nervously laughed. "What? Like-- like the dude?"

     "Beneath the floor." He wasn't sure, but it seemed Rusty was being more curt than usual. Using his absolutely superb detective skills, Ex decided that meant he just had to dig more.

     "His floor? You mean in his base, er, his house?"

     "Not a house. Too big and too ugly," he said with only a small amount of humor.

     "The big white thing by the shopping district?" 

     "Polar opposite of a rustic house. Absurdity." Ex laughed. 

     "So you live in his ugly not-house basement?" Rusty nodded, much more relaxed this time around. "Geez, and this whole time I thought you were some… cryptid thing, lurking in the shadows." Rusty let out a sound similar to the whirring he frequently did, but in a louder, pulsing version. Ex looked at his face and saw a big grin. He connected the dots and laughed along with him. In all honesty, he was a bit surprised; he hadn't known Rusty was capable of laughing. He chastised himself for thinking that. "I just wish you'd said something before you left, I didn't think you'd come back."

     And then the mood dipped. Rusty, for once, hadn't been floating, but he still managed to sink downwards. He quietly said "sorry, Zoom.” The scene was alarmingly similar to the one on the night they met. 

     "I mean, no, it's fine," Ex stammered, trying to recover. "I just wanted to know why you left so suddenly." Rusty didn't look at him, but that wasn't uncommon. 

     "Didn't want to get caught out." He knelt down and resumed his work on the windowsills. Ex joined him on the floor.

     "Caught? By who? Grian?" Rusty whirred an affirmative. 

     "Doesn't like it when I sneak out. Annoys him." The situation felt like an uncanny parallel to Ex's relationship with Xisuma at the moment. Even though he was just living, the last thing he would want is to be caught. 

     On the other hand, Ex suddenly worried that his new friend might have to stop visiting at some point. 

     "Wait, then when can you come here?" He asked, moving with Rusty as he finished a set of engravings. "Is it just like once a week?"

     "I came here more than that."

     "Huh?" Ex said intelligently.

     "I came here more than that, but you weren't here. Thought you left."

     "What, when? I must've just been out, cause I've been squatting here since we built it." Rusty looked at him strangely. 

     "You are living here?" And what kind of question was that? Why else would he be building a goddamn house?

     "I… yeah-- yeah, why?"

     With that, any heaviness seemed to lift from Rusty's shoulders and a grin spread across his face. He whirred happily, and while it was sweet, it left Ex confused.

      "Where else would I live?"

      Rusty calculated for a second. Ex could peer into his eyes and see the gears turning.

     "People don't usually live in my rustic houses," he said simply. He still had a dopey smile on his face, and Ex couldn't help but mimic him. 

     Over the course of the next few days, Ex made sure to stay within sight of the house, just in case Rusty stopped by. He lived up to his nickname, as the building truly did look rustic. A new chimney poked out of one side, a very much appreciated feature on cold nights. Ex surprised himself by laying out a cute little path from the front door to the treeline, and miniature gardens under a few windows. 

     True to his word, Rusty did visit within a few days. Ex saw him float down the mountainside through his window, and called out once he knew he was close enough to hear.

     "Door's open!" He knew Rusty wasn't going to knock, but he didn't feel like getting up to open it. He sat reclined against the far wall, cushioned by his collection of stolen blankets and jackets. His helmet had temporarily been replaced with his heavy-duty cannula, going from his nose to the helmet respirators. The red chestplate sat beside it. Lazily doodling in a book, he listened to the door swing open. When he didn't hear anything else for a few seconds, he looked up.

     Rusty stood in front of the door, staring down at him. He glanced at the helmet, then back at Ex. Ex stared back, raising an eyebrow.

     "You took off your face," Rusty eventually said. Before he could even respond, Ex started laughing much harder than he should have without his helmet.

     "No, no, that's just my helmet," he got out after quite a few seconds. First the gloves and now the helmet? "Do you think I'm entirely mechanical or something?" 

     Rusty paused, and then shrugged. 

     "You wear… armor?" he asked.

     "Bingo!" Rusty gave him a look of even more pure confusion. "Ah, forget it." 

     Rusty touched down and walked over to Ex. He flopped down clumsily, sitting cross-legged. Wide-eyed, he leaned forward to gently poke Ex's cheek.

     "Soft," he said.

     "Is this gonna be a thing with you?" Rusty didn't respond. He moved to poke at Ex's cannula but was batted away. He retracted his hand quickly, tilting his head.

     "You gotta be careful with that," Ex explained, "I can't breathe without it." Rusty just blinked at him.

     "You need to breathe?" 

     "Uh… yeah, Rust, people generally need to breathe…"

     Rusty's attention moved to the helmet. He cautiously lifted it, glancing at Ex every few seconds, like he expected to be scolded at any moment. When Ex gave no sign of disapproval, he examined the respirators. His eyes lit up red and Ex realised he was scanning the tech. Or something. 

     "These filter  out  oxygen," Rusty said, and though it wasn't phrased like a question, Ex knew he was confused. "Overworld life forms require oxygen."

     "'M not an Overworld life form."

     Rusty whirred in more confusion.

     "The air here's got too much oxygen in it, so I can't breathe it. Same with Xisuma."

     "Ah," Rusty lit up in understanding, "you and the hermit Xisuma are related."

     "Yeah," Ex said, turning back to his book, slightly out of breath from talking. Speaking while only inhaling through his nose was tough. 

     He assumed Rusty would settle beside him, but instead he stood and swiftly walked out the door again. It was strange to see him making contact with the floor-- Ex had grown accustomed to the mysterious levitation-- and he was just slightly worried over where he had run off to. Ex watched the door. 

     Not twenty seconds later, Rusty reappeared toting a straw broom. He had a silly grin on his face and looked overly proud of himself. 

     "Not gonna lie, mildly concerned about where you got that and what you plan to do with it," he said. Rusty whirred gleefully.

     Making his way through the few rooms, he swept the remaining dirt that had been spread about. He smacked Ex with the broom upon returning to the main room.

     "Alright, alright, geez, I'm moving," Ex griped as he shuffled out of the way, comfort pile included. Rusty didn't let up, though, and whacked him more.

     "Whaddya want?" He whined.

     "It appears you have some dirt in your blankets," Rusty said matter-of-factly, still brushing Ex's side with the broom, "it's not coming out." Ex snorted.

     "Are you calling me  dirt ? You absolute jerk!" He cried in mock offense. Rusty whirred a laugh and moved past, prepping the floors for furnishing. He pushed Ex's stuff into a corner, excluding his helmet and pile, and ran back outside to grab more stuff. He returned a moment later, having traded the broom for a shulker box filled to the brim with… something. Ex paid very little attention, favoring the book in his lap. That is, until Rusty kicked at him and forced him to get up.

     "You need to learn interior design." Ex groaned as he clicked his helmet back in place, pushing his blanket-jacket cluster, chestplate, and his anti-oxygen cannula into the rest of his corner mess. Though, truthfully, he was excited to learn more. Rusty pointed at the door and told him to collect yet another shulker box.

     “... You don’t have enough there?” Ex asked, peering behind Rusty at the overflowing container. 

     “Maximalism is essential to the rustic immersion.”

      Ex scoffed.

     “Whatever you say, boss.”

     Outside, he realised he had no clue where Rusty’s hoard was. He had since cleaned up the original collection, as all that was left were a few odd building bits here and there. He checked the same spot, to no avail. He circled round to the back of his house and spotted some purple by the treeline. 

     “Ah, there!” Ex mumbled to himself. He spent another few minutes digging around and getting a feel for what supplies there was. By the time he was finally turning back towards the house, he humored the idea that Rusty may have thought he had gotten lost. 

     As he got closer to the house, he noticed something odd and stopped in his tracks. Through the window, he could see Rusty moving… bizarrely. It was hard to tell why it was strange at first, especially at a distance and through such a tiny frame, but after a few seconds, he realised. It was more than one flash of red-- as in, it was more than just Rusty. 

     There was someone else dressed in red inside the house. And, by the looks of it, they were very  animatedly  talking with Rusty. Or fighting. It was hard to discern. 

     Quietly creeping towards that window, Ex breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been seen. He was so glad that he had taken off his bright red armor. Sure, he knew that it would probably be fine if he ran into a hermit-- he believed the group may even have known that he was trying his best to be good now!-- but he still avoided them for a reason. Besides, he preferred to figure out the unknown situation first, rather than being thrust into it. 

     He crouched beneath the window box, relying on hearing. Under a very irate sounding voice, he could hear Rusty whirring. The fact that he could hear it through the wall meant it must have been much louder than his typical content whirrs, worrying him more than anything else. 

     “I  knew  you were sneaking out! What have I told you?” That must’ve been the hermit Grian. Despite what Ex thought was obvious distress, Rusty responded cheekily.

     “Rustic houses need building. They deserve to be built, Grian.”

     “I swear, I’m gonna get Mumbo to put some super complex redstone lock on your closet. Don’t test me.” It was said lightheartedly, but Ex felt his blood run cold. Rusty’s  closet ? 

     “Your meaningless contraptions do nothing to contain me.” 

     “... You know, NPC, you’ve been acting kinda funny lately…”

     “Funny? You think I’m funny? Well, I am about to be  hilarious .” While utterly entranced by Rusty’s sudden attitude, Ex couldn’t help but feel unnerved by his desensitization over being locked in a closet. Maybe he was missing something? Surely they couldn’t be speaking literally right now, but then again, Rusty wasn’t exactly the best with subtleties or metaphors.

     “Uh, anyway… Come on, we’re going home.” Finally feeling brave enough to peak inside, Ex watched as Grian-- who was noticeably smaller than his supposed clone-- led his friend away. Upon looking closer he caught sight of a lead attached to Rusty’s wrist. Under any other circumstances it would have been comical, but right now Ex felt only dread. A few wing flaps later and they were gone, just like that. 

     Ex wandered back into the house, dazed. The shulker he had been grabbing was long forgotten, left in the grass. The straw broom had been dropped in the middle of the floor. Unsure of what to do, he locked the front door and set up his jacket-blanket pile in front of the fireplace. Feeling a little deja vu, he anxiously wondered about Rusty’s whereabouts. Was he okay? When he had talked about Grian last, he seemed really nervous over being caught. How did Grian even find him? Was he going to see Rusty again?

     Curled up by the fire for comfort, he only came up with more and more things to worry about. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get the opportunity to resolve any of them.

Chapter Text

     Grian stared at him for a long time from the outside of the closet doors. NPC didn’t make eye contact, trying to focus instead on the inflow of energy from his charging port. Or on the dimly lit white room expanding behind Grian. Or on entertaining the thought of what Zoom was doing at this moment. Regardless, he still took note that Grian’s face was screwed up in some emotion that NPC couldn’t identify. During the flight over, tensions had settled, leaving them in familiar, but not comfortable, silence. 

     “You know, your battery almost died this time,” Grian said after a long moment, not looking up from where he was gently brushing dirt off of NPC. It was slightly difficult to hear over the buzzing his charger always put into his head. Grian stood straight and reached up to brush some of NPC’s hair into place.

     “Not talking, huh?” He said softly. “That’s fine.” His hands rested on the closet doors, hesitating. He held another staring contest but NPC refused to play. Then the closet was engulfed in darkness, spare the thin line of light from between the doors. He heard a sigh, a lock click, and eventually even the line of light disappeared as Grian left the room. 

     It was fine. This was what he knew, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t just sneak out again. Everything was as it should have been, as far as NPC could discern.

     So why was he registering pain? According to Grian, he was perfectly unharmed. Since the doors had been closed his diagnostic systems had been running obsessively, and yet he was still unable to locate a source. It felt different-- in that, he could feel it. He wasn’t used to feeling things. That in and of itself alarmed him more than the mystery damage. Perhaps he was malfunctioning. If it prevailed, he would have to mention it to Grian the next chance he had. 

     Letting excess diagnostics continue in the background, NPC preoccupied himself by thinking about Zoom. It had been exactly 73.19 minutes since his departure from their house, and he wondered if Zoom was angry. He had specifically requested a notice before NPC “disappeared.” Oddly enough, his focus was forced back onto the damage immediately upon assuming that Zoom was upset. It seemed to flare, and NPC felt as though it originated from the center of his chest. He whirred in discomfort.

     From there on, he discovered that he was caught in a loop of thinking about Zoom and feeling pain. Had he been able to see anything, he would have noticed a damp blur over his vision. His systems failed to pull up any information, so he terminated them. Giving up on trying to out-maneuver this malfunction, he leaned against the back of the closet and into the charger. He hoped more than anything that Zoom wouldn’t be mad. NPC used to think he would do anything of it meant that Grian would be happy, but maybe someone else had taken that place.

     And with that thought, he shut himself off and slept in the dark of the closet.

     About a hundred chunks away, Ex found himself staring into the light of the fireplace. He had yet to move, except to stoke the fire, he since Rusty left. Now the cottage was growing dark, the shadows around his blanket lump sharp. His head was a mess of conflicts. He felt restless and anxious, but tied to the floor with apprehension. He gently rocked back and forth as he thought.

     Investigating was always an option. Paranoia over Rusty's wellbeing urged him to-- it's not like Ex didn't know where to go to find him. Similarly, paranoia kept him here, in his almost-cozy cabin. It felt rather lonely now. The fire made him uneasy, making his face too hot and everything else too cold. He shifted and jumped to his feet, kicking the blanket-jacket pile to the side to anxiously pace.

     Ex walked to the corner, where his stuff was collected. Then he turned back, unsure. Then he spun around again. Before he could stay indecisive any longer, he dug through and pulled out his various armor pieces. Clicking them on, he let out an anxious sigh. 

     The air was colder outside, but he had the wisdom to grab a bucket of water from a stream just within the treeline and to pour it over the fireplace. He already had enough to worry about without burning down his still unfinished home. He debated bringing anything else along, but decided against it. The less dragging him down, the better.

     By the time Ex had scaled the small mountain on the east side of his valley, the sun had fully set. He didn't mind the darkness-- it calmed him, shielding him from unwanted eyes. His armor became a dark maroon in the low light, and he moved ever so softly along the hills, quiet and peaceful despite his nervousness. His visor caught all possible moonlight and enhanced it for him, allowing him to scan the sleepy wilderness as he steadily travelled. He would have wished for wings, but he appreciated the time that the walk gave him. It was an opportunity to plan. For what, he wasn't exactly sure. 

     After about an hour had gone by, he noticed distant lights. Hermitville. 

     The placement of his house, in relation to the hermits' lands, was hidden in plain sight. It was nestled between the main island and the new lands, erring on the side of Hermitville in the east. None of the hermits ever travelled to and from without using the Nether, so air traffic wasn't a concern. As Ex approached Hermitville, he went over the game plan.

     First step, get into Hermitville. There was a huge wall on the border, but it was mob-proofed, not Ex-proofed. Probably the easiest of the steps. 

     Next, go through the Nether portal. He had lurked about before the wall had been brought up and knew the basic layout of the town. Travelling through the Nether would be boring, but not much else. 

     His final step was to go through Grian's portal and… do something. Frankly, he had no clue what Grian's base looked like on the inside, but he knew he had to go down . Rusty had said under the floor. And then, once he found Rusty, he would-- what? Save him? Ex wasn't even sure Rusty needed saving. He was perfectly capable, Ex was sure. Not everyone can effortlessly tote around entire tree logs on each shoulder, or dig into solid wood with nothing but his finger. 

     On top of that, what situation was Ex even walking into? Maybe Grian was just… overprotective, or something, or there was another puzzle piece that Ex was lacking. There was nothing that screamed "danger."

     Except the lead on Rusty's wrist. Surely that could have just been a safety measure for flying back? But then, there was the clear distress in Rusty's voice-- or, his whirring-- that Ex simply couldn't explain away. Not to mention the excessive concern about being caught, to the point that he just ran away on the night they met. How on earth did Grian even find him, anyway? Worst (or best) case scenario, he would just say he was popping in for a visit.

     The Hermitville border wall towered in front of him, but he wasn't worried. Ex began to walk around the base, aware that there were entrances at some point. His footsteps crunched softly. From a ways ahead of him, he spotted an outpouring of light, evidence of an opening spilling across the path. He jogged towards it and peeked in. 

     Within the wall, the town was empty of hermits. He could make out the silhouettes of villagers inside some of the homes, but the streets were barren. The gate that he came through went straight behind him to a mansion. Ahead of him, the village was softly lit with lanterns, plantlife and cottages abundant. It was rather pleasant, Ex was surprised to find, and it reminded him of Rusty's house. Ex's house. Their house. 

     He looked around more. The gargantuan houses teetered above his head, giving him a sense of vertigo. It was one thing to watch the build-off from afar, gradually growing closer and closer to the top, and another to crane his head up and see them for their true magnificence. While he may have his own issues with the hermits, he had to admit that they could build . Much better than he ever could. 

     Forcing himself to look away, Ex scanned the nearby landscape for the Nether portal. It took a minute, but he eventually spotted it at the top of a tower, close by. He entered the building and climbed up. Surveying the landscape one more time for the beauty that it was, he turned to the portal and stepped through.

     For a few seconds, the already loud gurgle of the purple film became unbearable inside Ex’s head. Crossing to the other side, he felt crushed by the hot and heavy atmosphere of the Nether. He choked briefly as his helmet recalibrated, adjusting the respirators to the new environment. The air’s oxygen was thicker than the Overworld’s, which already was too much for Ex’s End-based lungs. His armor was rapidly becoming hot to the touch, and he felt sluggish. 

      He suddenly remembered just how much he despised the Nether. 

      Trudging his way into the main path, he walked aimlessly towards where he assumed everything else was. A few minutes later proved his theory correct. Intricately decorated tunnels split off into a number of directions, signs and banners explaining where each went. In the center of the cavernous circular room was a giant hole, leading into an even more cavernous abyss of red fog. Deep below he caught glimpses of warping purple and groaned. He had a vague knowledge of a giant map of hermit portals, and he had no doubt that this is what that was. Did it have to be inaccessible for those who couldn’t fly? 

     Ex groaned and looked around. Of course he decided not to bring anything with him, not even ender pearls. Just his luck. His eyes scanned the neighboring area for any alternatives to plunging and breaking every bone in his body. Feeling slightly guilty, he got an idea. He made his way around to all the tunnels and jumped, pulling down the banners. The hermits would be fine, he told himself; there were signs displaying where each hall went. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist into a knot in time with the banners as he tied them.

     “Sorry,” he mumbled to the innocent paintings that stared back at him.

     Soon enough, he had a crude rope, like a cliche sheet rope. He looped it around one of the tunnels’ boat railings. Tugging a few times for good measure, Ex tossed the rest into the red void. The end disappeared below him. Shakily inhaling to settle his nerves, he crouched down to begin journey downwards. 

     As he travelled, the knots strained, making Ex nervous. The faster he got down, the better. After only about thirty seconds, though, he started to feel fatigued, and the bottom was still barely visible. He blocked out his surroundings to try and make the process go by quicker. It seemed to work, that is until his feet lost their placement.

     Hanging helplessly by his arms alone, Ex yelped and swung in the air. He could see the bottom clearly now, but he was still a good twenty blocks from it. 

     “Oh my god,” he cried breathlessly. Quickly trying to take stock, he examined his options. Obviously, the rope was too short. Not an option. He could drop straight onto the ground, which was far but there was enough room to attempt a safe landing technique. Maybe an option. The last possibility that he could see was a nearby portal, which would be a shorter fall, but with significantly less ability to avoid serious ankle damage. On top of that, he would probably topple over the edge immediately and fall an extra ten meters. Seemed like more risk than reward, so straight down it was. He sucked in a breath and slowed his movement, preparing to let go.

     Then he did.

     The fall was brief, but he managed to form into a crouch to absorb the blow. An echoing crack resounded through the space as his heavy metal armor splintered the glass floor. Instantly, he felt shooting pains, but he ignored them and rolled to his side, keeping safe and low to the ground. He stayed there, catching his breath and recovering from the adrenaline rush. The dingy DIY rope swung lazily above him like a hypnotist’s tool. Without a doubt, he could tell he had failed to completely protect his ankles. He was impressed with his general health, excluding his right foot. It sent the waves of an intense ache up his calf, but didn’t seem utterly ruined. Likely not broken. He pushed himself up.

     Ex grabbed the nearby portal for support and rose to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut. Definitely screwed up the ankle, yep, no denying it. He hissed softly. He shoved it into the back of his mind, though, and trained his focus on the various portals around him. They were adorned with more meaningless banners, presumably linking up to personal bases. It was always strange to him how comfortable the hermits were with each other, the unrelenting trust. To advertise an open door into one’s house seemed unsettling. Ex couldn’t imagine being able to do that without overthinking it. As he thought this, his eyes landed on one particularly tall portal. It sat in the middle of the representative ocean, white spires shooting up and white cloth covering up the obsidian. Now, Ex had only seen Grian’s base once, but a build like that stood out in his head. There was no way that that wasn’t his portal. 

     He involuntarily let out a whine as he put his weight back onto his feet, trekking over to the target portal. Shards of glass clinked under his boots, getting stuck and scratching the floor as he walked. His breath came heavy from a combination of the rough air, exertion, and anxiety. He was entering the uncharted sections of his game plan. 

     In the back of his mind, Ex wondered if a decorated portal would feel different. He stepped through and again was acquainted with the all-consuming sound filling his ears, as well as the ten seconds of holding his breath while his helmet recalibrated. It felt no different than any other portal. 

     Still unstable on his feet and now disoriented, he stumbled out of the other side. Noise echoed less prominently than it did in the Nether hub, but it did travel. He heard his ragged breaths both from the inside and the outside of his helmet, and his uneven footsteps bounced around the walls of the tall structure. If Grian was anywhere nearby, he would instantly know someone was here. Ex waited with baited breath.

     After a minute had passed, he sighed in relief. He scanned the space. To his left was worse than his own house's interior, the absurd shulker box mess just consuming that entire section of Grian's base. If Rusty was hidden there, Ex would never find him. 

     Other sides were unproportionately empty. The room went around and up like a gigantic cylinder, with a flight-door in the ceiling. Through it he could see what looked like even more of the room he was in now. He could definitely tell this was the man that began the Hermitville build-off.

     Curiously, Ex ventured towards the large towers embedded into the sides. Glass still stuck to his boots scraped against the concrete floor as he limped. He peered into the opening of the nearest one, and saw what must have been a… water mover? Whatever they were called, the water was clearly pushing upwards, which was the opposite of what Ex needed. He turned to the other one and groaned, condemned to painfully walking across the wide floor. 

     "Ugh!" He exclaimed upon seeing that it wasn't even worth it-- this one went up too! According to Rusty, he was underground, likely in some form of basement. Looking up at the holes that lead up into impossibly higher levels, he was glad.

     He hobbled his way back to the shulker mess. He didn't really expect to find anything, but he ventured over anyway. Within the colorful fortress he spotted a singular, small bed. 

     “Damn, bitch, you live like this?” Ex mumbled. He didn’t have much sympathy for Grian but this was almost sad. Ex’s homeless life was prettier than this. Then he noticed it-- a hole was built into one wall, covered by a stack of shulkers. It went directly into the hollow innards of the first tower he had investigated. Excited and stumbling over the plethora of boxes, Ex raced for it. Inside was empty and boring, a quick look upwards showing just how mind-bogglingly tall the building was. He turned away and caught sight of a small stairway going into the ground in one corner. Silently cheering, he approached. It was a bare, one-block descending passageway. His hard glove clicked quietly against the concrete wall as he steadied his weak side and climbed down. Honestly, it was a bit of a depressing sight-- Grian had such a reputation as a builder, and yet not only his storage was painful to look at, but this dull staircase as well? 

     Every noise seemed to grow louder the deeper down he went, until Ex eventually walked into a small room. Shockingly enough, the walls were white, but it at least looked like some effort was put into it. The dark floor was littered with small metal counters and mechanical parts, and even a book or two. Shuffling inside, he examined the odd assortment. The books fit, for the most part, all old manuals on mechanics or notebooks filled with chicken scratch. He raised an eyebrow upon noticing a short stack sitting in the far corner, beside an out-of-place wooden closet. They were various nursery rhymes and childrens’ books. Grunting quietly at the discomfort on his ankle, he crouched and picked them up. Many pages were dog-eared and they looked well-loved, but what stuck out to him most were the extra sheets shoved in. He slipped off one glove and pulled the paper out.

     On it was a crude drawing, done in what looked like a limited supply of colored pencils. He could see where they had pressed too hard on the pencil and broken it, making many of the lines jagged. It took a few seconds for Ex to figure out what he was seeing. There were two people (loosely defined), standing side by side. Their tops were colored in red, and they both had yellow hair. The boy on the left held what Ex could only guess was either a wrench or a magic wand. Both had smiles that were bigger than their faces, but it was still cute. In the background was a brown house with a chimney and flowers in front. The home was probably the most detailed and recognisable part of the whole picture. He softly ran his fingertips over the lines. Now certain that he must’ve been in the right spot to find Rusty, he gingerly set the books and picture on a nearby counter. 

     Just then, there was a loud bang . Ex jumped and whirled around, facing the source-- the closet. And then it clicked. The closet .

     “Oh!” He said and rushed over as fast as he could, reaching and pulling on the metal knobs. The doors didn’t budge. “Rusty?” Ex called. “Is that you?”

     A whirring came from within, and Ex rattled the doors again.

      “Uh, uh,” Ex stammered, “give me a second.” At a closer look, a little gold lock sat between the two doorknobs. He turned around again, frantically searching the room for a key or anything similar. He grabbed the nearest thin tool and tried to jam it into the keyhole. As he jimmied the lock, it began to steam and, soon enough, melt. 

     “Wh--” Ex was cut off by the doors swinging open, narrowly missing his helmet. Lo and behold, there stood Rusty, an excitable expression on his face. His finger steamed from where he had pressed it on the lock and burned it.

     “Zoom!” He yelled, louder than Ex had ever heard him. 

     “Rusty!” Ex responded, giggling. Surprising both of them, Rusty leaped out and wrapped his arms around Ex. His first instinct was to stiffen, but Ex managed to relax into the embrace. He mimicked Rusty, enveloping him in a hug. They stayed for a few seconds before backing up again. A moment later, Rusty’s face turned confused-- or, at least what Ex knew was confused. To anyone else, it would have looked neutral.

     “Zoom?” He said, quieter this time.

     “... Rusty?” And then, to Ex’s complete bewilderment, Rusty’s face changed again, this time scrunching up in distress. He had never seen Rusty show so much on his face, let alone show this .

     “Zoom,” he cried. Startled at how rapidly downhill this was going, Ex floundered and waved his hands uselessly.

     “Uh, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rusty exhaled-- also disconcerting, as Rusty didn’t normally breathe-- and looked away. 

     “S-sorry,” he got out, his voice glitching, “I’m experiencing a ma-alfunction…” Every few words his voice would jump a bit, briefly sounding almost as electronic as Ex's through his helmet. His eyes were wet, and Ex worried for the circuitry in his irises. “My diag-diagnostics can’t find the source of the damage.”

     “What do you mean?” Ex asked. After coming this far, could they even leave? How often did Rusty get malfunctions? Ex didn't know how to work any kind of tech, especially not sentient tech. It looked like only Grian knew how, what with the evidence all around him. Then a different thought struck him.

     Grian would also know how to cause a malfunction.

     Ex hands balled into fists, but he hid them behind his back. He didn't want to startle Rusty.

     “Well, I-- I was,” Rusty seemed to struggle with finding the right words, “I was under the impression th-that I would never come into contact with you again. When Grian found me.” His voice glitched and shook so badly that the end of the statement was barely coherent. Ex unclenched his fists with a realization. “Made the assumption that you were-- were angry, because I didn’t tell you I w-was leaving.” He seemed to get more distressed at the disobedience of his voice and eyes. His hands shot up to his face, touching the tears in astonishment. “Why-- why,” he cleared his throat, “why am I malf-functioning?”

     “Rusty,” Ex sighed, “you’re not malfunctioning. Have you never cried before?” He stepped forward and gently took one of Rusty’s hands away from his face. Rusty shook his head tearfully and looked down at Ex’s ungloved hand holding his own. 

     “Soft,” he said brokenly. Ex huffed in surprise and amusement. Lifting the same hand, he wiped the tears on Rusty’s downturned face. 

     “Yeah,” he agreed, “soft.”

     Rusty brought his hand up again and held Ex’s in place. Ex let him. He was still unaccustomed to all the touching, but he didn’t hate it. Especially if it meant helping Rusty. 

     “I wasn’t mad.” 

     Rusty didn’t speak.

     “I saw you through the window, you and him. I knew what had happened. I’m just glad I came here.”

     At that, Rusty looked up. He had an odd look in his eyes.

     “Grian saw you?” And there it was-- fear. Ex had never picked up on any genuine fear of Grian, but there was something there when it came to Grian finding out about Ex. It alarmed him.

     “What? No, why?” Rusty let out a whirr of relief.

     “He… Don’t want him to make you go away.” 

     As of yet, Ex had been keeping a tight lid on his anger. The entire situation was filled with reasons not to, but he had put in too much work to let his short temper get to him. But the notion of someone indirectly causing Rusty fear, not to even mention causing all of this , opened the gates a crack. He felt the rage bubble up in his throat like molten lava, but he forced himself to swallow it down. The last thing he would want is to scare Rusty more.

     They locked eyes, Rusty’s still nervous and Ex’s filled with warmth for Rusty and suppressed anger.

     “He’s not gonna make me go anywhere.”

Chapter Text

     Ex let Rusty lead him up the stairs. He didn't want the other to see the strain climbing upwards put on his ankle. He reached the top a few seconds after Rusty did. 

     Rusty was back to his characteristic levitation, nervously peeking out of the hole in the side of the tower. Ex approached him from behind, carefully setting a hand on his shoulder. 

     “He’s not here,” Ex told him. 

     “I am aware. I would have heard him.”

     “Then why’re you acting like he could jump out at any second?” Rusty paused.

     “Just in case,” he said quietly. Ex glanced over him, concerned. 

     “Well… come on then,” he said, taking Rusty’s hand and moving ahead of him.

     “Where are we going?”

     “Home.” Ex suddenly worried after saying it, afraid that he crossed a line. Not very long ago at all, Rusty had called this place his home. It wasn’t Ex’s place to override Rusty’s feelings like that. 

     However, a glance backwards at Rusty’s smile told him that maybe he hadn’t overstepped any boundaries at all. 

     They travelled through the maze of shulker boxes and returned to the expanse of swirling purple. Ex hobbled forward and grabbed Rusty’s hand tighter, convincing himself that it was Rusty who was nervous. They stepped into the portal.

     Rusty gave Ex a look filled with almost more concern than he had ever seen on the partial robot’s face when he had his standard few seconds of asphyxiation. After catching his breath, he chuckled. 

     “Don’t worry,” he consoled, “just recalibrating.” He rapped on the side of his helmet for effect. Together they walked out onto the glass floor, both gazing around at the eerie atmosphere. Their visibility ended concerningly quick, red fog oozing out of the distance. The mock earth below the glass appeared to stretch on endlessly. Every step echoed into the deep abyss. The adrenaline of before drowned out the creepiness of the environment, the faded excitement making way for a heavy unsettling feeling. Ex gripped Rusty’s hand tighter once more. 

     It helped that he felt safer this time around, too. He didn’t feel the same anxiety as before, and having Rusty by his side eased his mind. To know that he was fine reassured Ex more than he could say-- not to mention the comfort of having an otherworldly being in a metal vessel of seemingly limitless strength on your side. Once they reached the approximate middle of the hub, Ex pointed up. Above them was a hole, the light from which was barely visible in the thick, murky air. The janky banner rope hung still, looking dirtied by the Nether smoke even in the short span of time that it had been exposed.

     “We need to get up there,” Ex said, already dreading the process, whatever that would be. Idly kicking at the glass shards spread around the area, he had already begun theorizing foolish ideas when Rusty’s hold on his hand stiffened, and suddenly they were… not where they were previously. Ex gasped and stumbled, his strained ankle collapsing under him. His head felt dizzy and his sight spun as he looked around. He felt like his consciousness had been plucked from his body and placed somewhere else, somewhere much higher.

     Rusty had glitched them to the top. Of course he could do that. Ex hadn’t forgotten the first night they met, and the first time he had watched Rusty demonstrate that. Speaking of Rusty, he came into Ex’s field of vision with a panicked look. 

     “Sorry Zoom, sorry Zoom, sorry,” he repeated on a loop, fretting over Ex’s form. Ex sighed heavily and rolled over, sitting on the floor. He composed himself and turned to Rusty, laughing in a mix of shock and fondness.

     “It’s… fine, Rusty, just give a guy a warning next time.” As he spoke, he reached up and gestured for Rusty to pull him up from the floor. Upon being hoisted up, his ankle protested the sudden weight, rather loudly. Ex sucked in a sharp breath and winced. For the second time in as many minutes, Rusty gazed at him with a look just on the verge of distress. He gave Ex a once-over and quickly deduced the source of the pain, turning his red-eye scanner onto Ex’s leg.

      “You are damaged,” Rusty said, and his voice glitched in a way that was alarmingly similar to his crying. Plastering a strained smile on his face, Ex waved his hands placatingly. 

      “No, no, really, it’s okay. I’ve felt worse!” Rusty’s eyes were set on Ex’s-- a rare instance of eye contact-- and he didn’t seem convinced. 

     “Glitching,” ironically, his voice glitched in time with the word, “hurt you?” In comparison to what Ex would consider a standard person, Rusty’s tone was almost monotone, but Ex knew better. He could hear so much confusion and horror that it broke his heart. He rushed to fix it.

      “No! No, it-- I fell, earlier, before I got you!” Rusty’s head tilted in uncertainty. “When I had to get down from here-- you saw the broken floor, right? The glass?” Rusty followed Ex’s pointed finger and glanced at the giant hole leading down into the main Nether hub. Ex watched as the lenses in his irises shifted in calculation, and then as they shot back up to meet his eyes again. 

     “Promise?” His facial expression was vulnerable, at least in Ex’s mind. 

     “Promise.” Rusty nodded minutely and seemed to relax; Ex hadn’t even noticed how tense he was. They rejoined hands and set off down the tunnel Ex had come from, which turned out to actually be slightly harder to find without the banners. Whoops.

     Walking hand in hand, Ex let his thoughts wander. Come to think of it, it meant a lot to him that Rusty trusted him this much-- not only that he wasn’t lying about how he got hurt, but to let Ex take him away from Grian. It was a testament to how quickly they had grown close. He had met Rusty only a few weeks prior, but he couldn’t imagine life without him. Not that he would admit it, but learning to appreciate the world around him only got Ex going for a limited amount of time. This adventure, this breath of fresh air in meeting someone new, gave him a reason to hold on. It gave him something to be excited for, something that he had been severely lacking. He had forgotten how to notice loneliness, but the cold and quiet nights in their cabin between visits forced him to remember.

     From the corner of his eye, he caught Rusty keeping a close look on Ex’s foot. He flashed him a smile from behind his helmet, knowing full well that there wasn’t much he could do to ease Rusty’s stress. 

     “Hey…” Ex started awkwardly, “can we talk?”

     “Are we not currently speaking?” Ex snorted, but tried to cover it with a cough when he saw the seriousness of Rusty’s face. 

     “Uh, no-- I mean, yes, but what I meant was can we… like, are you comfortable with me asking some questions? About the whole, uh, Grian thing?”

     Rusty was quiet for a moment.

     “Yes.”

     “Okay,” Ex let out a breath of air, “okay. Where do I start… what’s up with the closet?” Rusty hesitated again.

     “Elaborate.”

     “Like, why were you in a closet? You don’t just stay there, do you? When you’re at Grian’s?” Ex’s footsteps echoed through the long corridor, the only noise aside from his own exhales. He almost wished Rusty would touch the ground, if for nothing else than to minimize how loud Ex’s voice felt. He idly ran his gloved fingertips along the glass railing of the boat path.

     "Why would I not?" Rusty said. "Oh," he added after a second, and Ex thought that maybe he had realised how bad it sounded to live in a closet. "I burnt my closet door…" is what came out instead. 

     "What?"

     "I burnt my closet," he repeated, a slight pout on his face. Ex glanced down at the finger Rusty had used to melt away the lock. He'd have to ask for more details on Rusty's seemingly random assortment of capabilities later.

     “Please,” Ex sighed. He felt his stomach sink when Rusty looked at him. “I know you’re not… I know you’re not doing it on purpose, but I need you to focus-- I need to know.” He cleared his throat and uncomfortably looked away. This was never a conversation he expected to have. “Is Grian, like… locking you away? In that closet?” Ex knew the likelihood was low, but he sincerely hoped that Rusty would pick up the underlying question: Is Grian hurting you ? He avoided asking it outright-- he may not have known much about most of the hermits, but he was sure that absolutely none of them were malicious, especially the newest one. Grian had a reputation as a playful and hardworking kid. He was a prankster, but it was common knowledge that he was trustworthy when it counted. The mixed messages were messing with Ex’s head; he just needed to understand . 

     “The closet is where I stay, yes,” Rusty said. He was tentative, sensing that Zoom’s mood had shifted, but he wasn’t sure to what exactly. He hovered up and down, still floating alongside Zoom as he walked. Zoom’s face was turned away, the bulky helmet completely masking any expression. Rusty wasn’t very good with figuring out this whole “emotions” thing, and he thought that maybe Zoom wasn’t either. He could tell, though, that when Zoom’s speech pattern grew disjointed as it had been, it meant something negative. Usually. Then again, it happened sometimes when Rusty would make him laugh or act unexpectedly. Maybe he was surprising Zoom, and that was the emotion he was feeling? He felt like giving up-- his calculations were only leading him in circles.

     “What,” he stopped, whirred, and rewound what he had been thinking. He rephrased, instead asking, “Are you okay?” It had proven effective in the past to imitate a more casual approach in possibly delicate situations. Further confirming that theory, Zoom looked at him. Now Rusty could see through his visor, and took note of Zoom’s furrowed eyebrows.

     “Am I okay?” Zoom asked. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I just--” and there was the pause, the tell-tale disjointed speech, “why do you ask?”

     “I… cannot determine your current state.”

     “Oh.” The tunnel grew quiet once more, save for the clack of Zoom’s metal boots and the light ringing from his fingers trailing the glass rail. “I’m just worried.”

     “Worried?”

     “About, uh, you.” Rusty whirred curiously. “Am I missing something here? Do you really not see it?”

     “See what?” Rusty asked, looking around. Zoom huffed and he couldn’t tell if it was out of annoyance or amusement. 

     “Not literally… the closet thing, I mean. It’s concerning , to say the least.”

     “Why?” While it was relieving that they were finally getting somewhere, the conversation was anything but relaxed.

     “Why? What do you-- how do you not-- it’s alarming, Rust! If he’s locking you in a closet, if you live in a closet, I am alarmed!”

     “I,” Rusty found himself mimicking Zoom’s shock, “I don’t understand.” If anything was alarming, it was Zoom’s reaction to everything he was saying. He didn’t like it when Zoom was upset. Was Zoom mad at him? He said he wasn’t before, but… that was before. His internal systems lit up in pain. They'd been doing that a lot lately.

     Ex's eyes searched Rusty's, which were darting around in discomfort. He stopped walking and set his hand on Rusty's shoulder, both to halt him and to reassure him. Carefully reigning in any visible frustration, he quieted.

     "Sorry, sorry, I'm not-- I'm not upset with you . It's just," he trailed off. Rusty lightly touched down and stared at the floor between their feet. Ex sighed for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to organise his thoughts. "I want you to have better than just a closet. You deserve better than just a closet. I'm worried because… well, geez, because I don't understand! I don't understand what's happening, but it looks bad, but I don't want to-- to think Grian's bad or something, but I just don't know. Do you… do you understand?" Rusty stared wide-eyed at him after his mini rant, slowly nodding. Ex cringed at the entire situation. He had said "closet" so much that it didn't even sound like a real word anymore. 

     “Okay!” He said suddenly, clapping his hands together. “Let’s play a game.” Anything to fix the mess that was their current conversation. Rusty blinked up at him, caught off guard.

     “A game?”

     “Yes, uh, a questions game!”

     “Oh,” Rusty said unenthusiastically. He lifted off the ground again and continued the long and boring trek through the tunnel.

     “Hey! You, wait a second!” Ex scoffed, rushing to keep pace with him. “It’ll be fun. And useful. I promise.”

     There was an awkward silence. Ex exhaled frustratedly.

     “Look, okay, I’ll go first. It’s an simpler one. Why a closet?” 

     “There is nothing differentiating this “game” from our previous conversation, Zoom,” Rusty replied flatly. Ex groaned.

     “Just-- play along! It’s an easier format!” Rusty made mechanical noises under his breath. “Don’t whirr at me in that tone of voice! Just answer my question, bolt-brain.”

     “Convenient location for storage.”

     “Alright, aright. I can work with this. So, storage of… people?”

     “Tools.” 

      “... Yikes,” Ex said. He resisted the urge to say anything else-- he didn’t want to mess with the vibe they had going. “Uh, alright, your turn.”

     “Asking a question?”

     “Yep.”

     Rusty thought for a few moments. Then, he turned to Ex and tapped on the top of his helmet.

     “What is the rest for?”

     “Uh… huh?”

     “The lower receptacle of your face provides respiratory function. What is the rest for?”

     “Oh!” Ex stopped in his tracks, reaching up and fiddling with some clasps along the sides of the helmet. The main head covering clicked and popped away from the mask portion, visor and all. His hair flew out in all directions, and his eyes squinted at the lack of protection against the light. While still distorted, his voice came out significantly smoother when he spoke next.

     “It helps block out the extra stuff.”

     “Extra stuff?”

     “Yeah, y’know, like… In the void, I wasn’t accustomed to bright lights or loud noises. This helps me, here.” Rusty whirred in recognition and understanding.

     “The brutality of this world is never-ending and all consuming. I await the day it all ceases.” Ex looked up from his helmet, side-eyeing Rusty.

     “Sure thing bud… whatever you say…” He moved to clip the helmet’s top half back when Rusty’s hand was suddenly waving in his face. Silently, he stopped and let Rusty do as he wished.

     Apparently, that entailed allowing Rusty to grab the helmet and bring it to his own head. It loosely plopped on, pushing his puffy hair down and into his eyes. All Ex could see was a dopey grin and a visor full of brown fluff. He brought a hand to his mask and giggled, Rusty following suit with that buzzing laugh of his. 

     “Okay, okay, my turn again,” he said, taking Rusty’s hand as the silly robot tried to blindly walk forward. They resumed their travelling, albeit slower and in higher spirits. “Uh… those drawings in your room? At Grian’s?” Rusty nodded, the helmet jostling as he did so. “Those were yours, right?” He nodded again. 

     “You… Zoom liked them?”

     “Well,” he sputtered, “yeah, of course! They were really cute, actually.” He spoke the second part quieter. Sure, they were messy, and only reinforced what Ex already knew about Rusty’s fine motor abilities, but they were undeniably adorable. He thought back to the two figures with their wide smiles, and the attention to detail in the house. He grinned behind his mask. “Do you like drawing?”

     Rusty nodded vigorously, the unsecured helmet gradually getting more and more lopsided on his head. 

     “Grian gets me colors so I can draw us!” As much as his heart swelled at that, Ex added it to his list of mixed signals. 

     Ahead of them, he spotted the purple swirling of a portal and internally cheered. While they still had a ways to go, his ankle ached, and he just wanted to be home. The tediously long and bland passageway could suck it for all that he cared. 

     “You came to Grian’s. Why?”

     “Ah, right, it’s your turn. Uh,” Ex thought for a moment, “for you?”

     Rusty gave him an expectant stare through his bangs.

     “Well, I couldn’t just… not come? I wanted to find out what happened.” He didn’t want to repeat that he was worried, but everything really boiled down to that. He didn’t think he could have survived one more minute of the anxious pacing he had been up to before he finally ventured out for Rusty. 

     Holding an arm out to the side to stop Rusty, Ex lead him to the portal. He lifted his helmet off of the other-- not without whirrs of protest-- and clicked it back into place. Rusty glared at him through his mussed hair. Ex chuckled.

     With their hands together again, they stepped through. Rusty was much less panicked this time, but he still nervously eyed Ex as they waited for his helmet to recalibrate for the Overworld. 

      The area around them was pleasantly dimmer than the Nether hub, the sun still below the horizon. Just as Ex had left it, gentle lantern light decorated their surroundings in pin pricks. Warm yellow flowed out of windows, though a significantly lesser amount than earlier in the night. Rusty tugged Ex's hand along with him as he moved to the edge of the portal building's platform. They stood overlooking the sleepy town. Ex tore his gaze away from the landscape and brought it down to Rusty's face. His hair had settled by now, curling and framing his cheeks. The orange flicker from the lamplights reflected in his eyes, illuminating each ring in the lenses. He was smiling softly, in awe.

      "What're you thinking?" Ex asked, his voice low and lighthearted. A cold breeze brushed past him, unfelt through his armor and the warmth in his chest. Rusty didn't look up from the town as he answered.

      "They are rustic. They are good." Ex smiled, fond of the quiet glee in Rusty's voice. Despite everything Ex had been fretting over, Rusty stayed the same-- just a cryptic little man who loved rustic houses. 

      "What about that one?" Ex pointed up at the towering, top-heavy wooden house, creaking under the weight of the far off dragon. He genuinely couldn't decide if Rusty would love it or hate it. It seemed Rusty couldn't either, as he stared in bewilderment for an amusingly long time.

     "It… is an abomination," he said finally, much to Ex's delight, "an absolute affront to what a rustic house is."

       "And what would that be?"

      "Simple. Complex. Traditional and cozy. Maximalist, warm, brown. Start with a base that'll support the framework." While he rambled about the key aspects of rustic houses, Ex tilted his head in thought. It was calming to listen, but they couldn't stay there forever. They didn't know where Grian was. They didn't know where any of the hermits were, but he figured it would be wise to avoid running into one.

      "Hey," he interrupted, squeezing Rusty's hand, "why don't we go back to our rustic house?" Rusty turned his head to face Ex's, trying to look past the light's glare and into his visor. Still grinning from his info-dumping high, he whirred. 

      “Why don’t we?” He responded, mimicking the inflection. 

      Ex turned towards the portal, where he knew a ladder lead downwards. Then he looked at his ankle. Back at the ladder.

      His foot complained just thinking about climbing down that. Rusty appeared behind him, his fingers brushing against Ex's side. 

     "Glitch?" Rusty asked, nervously pulling at his sleeve for permission. 

     "Oh!" Ex said, before laughing, "Yeah, good idea." He held out his arm for Rusty to loop in his own. Before he could blink, Rusty was attached to him, both of them standing inside the base of the portal’s tower. Unlike last time, Ex had prepared. He felt a wave of adrenaline, the drop in his stomach exhilarating. He stumbled, but was caught before he could touch the floor. He laughed again and dizzily held onto Rusty, who just gazed down at him, awestruck. 

     “Okay, okay, let’s go!” And off they went-- retracing Ex’s steps through Hermitville and away until the lights faded too much to be seen. The process was tedious. Their idle chatter distracted them, and Ex’s exhaustion and pain gradually made its way to the front of his mind. Despite this, he lead the way, showing Rusty the ups and downs of the great outdoors. Once Rusty got the hang of it, Ex found himself having to restrain the robot from wandering off the footpath and into the wilderness. He loved the curiosity, but the baby-sitting he could do without. 

     They reached the small mountain range surrounding their home. Ex was just about ready to pass out, so they slowed to a stop. Rusty whirred and floated around, antsy and ready to move on. 

     “Hey, hey,” Ex called, “c’mere.” He listened to Rusty land on the ground and stomp his way over like an overly hyper puppy. “Look.”

     He followed Ex’s outstretched finger, blinking.

     “What is it, Zoom?”

     “The sky.”

     Said sky was painted with strokes of light pink and orange, breaking through the blue of the night. The rim of the sun just peaked over the horizon, black silhouettes of trees and mountains molding the light into distinct rays. Rusty shifted, not sure what exactly to do. He glanced from the horizon to Zoom, noticing how it reflected almost perfectly in his visor. Behind that, Zoom’s eyes were crinkled in a peaceful smile. Rusty imitated the facial expression and returned to the distant scenery. Whatever made Zoom happy, made him happy.

      A few minutes later, the intensity of the color show had dissipated, leaving behind nothing but daylight. Ex hoisted himself up and motioned for Rusty to follow. 

      Their travels down the final mountain, into the valley, were simultaneously relieving and stressful. On one hand, they could see the cottage down below, the most comforting sight in many hours. On the other hand, the trek downwards strained Ex’s ankle. The entire time, Rusty levitated not two inches away from him, tightly grasping his arm. Any time he’d see a sign that Ex was going to fall, Rusty would pull him away and into the safety of his hold. It halted their progress, but he’d rather stay out for an extra hour before letting his fragile organic friend damage himself further. Regardless, they made it to the bottom eventually. The urge to run towards the front door was strong, but Ex didn’t have it in him.

      “Jiminy cricket!” He heaved upon collapsing into his blanket pile. Rusty retrieved his hand from within the fireplace, where he had been rekindling the flame, and floated over. He lowered himself next to the pile while Ex began to remove armor pieces.

     “Jiminy… cricket?”

     “Oh, it’s a uh, saying thing.”

     “What does it mean?”

     “... I honestly have no clue.” Ex’s voice came out clear and gentle as he replaced the mask with his cannula. He moved his helmet out of the way and patted the blankets beside him. Rusty tilted his head in confusion.

     “Get over here, bolt-brain! I didn’t go on a rescue mission only to not invite you to the Comfort Pile,” Ex said. “Now, that’s Comfort Pile with capital letters. Don’t you forget that.” He wagged his finger at Rusty in mock seriousness. Rusty responded with a wide-eyed nod and quickly scrambled into the Pile, making Ex chuckle. Catching on, Rusty whirred his robotic laugh and leaned against the other’s side. Ex’s smile softened and he sighed. It wasn’t complete, but he felt content. Their cabin felt much warmer now than it had in weeks, and if Ex was honest with himself? It didn’t have anything to do with the fire or the blankets.  

Chapter Text

     Something felt different with Zoom around. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but it was a… good different. An improvement. 

     At the time, Zoom slept by the fire, hoarding his Comfort Pile close and safe. As Rusty busied himself, he occasionally glanced over. The image was peaceful. His helmet rested nearby, supplying his cannula. His armor and binder were neatly folded and put away in the corner-- Rusty’s mark on the land. He didn’t think Zoom had an organizational bone in his body. 

     Meanwhile, that’s exactly what Rusty set off to do. He collected the forgotten shulker boxes from the previous day. They clanked as he plopped them onto the wooden floor, but he didn’t have any concern over waking Zoom-- if for no other reason, his snores drowned out any noise Rusty could make. 

     From the boxes, he replaced the broom with trapdoors, ready for shelving. Around the house he went, a perfectly mapped out blueprint overlaying his vision. Rusty followed his guidelines and steadily secured the first steps towards a furnished house in their places. The routine of rotating screws, propping up the trapdoors, and repeating calmed his nerves after the events of the past day. 

     Next he moved to the softer furnitures. Already, the interior had grown more lively. Namely were the cushy armchairs he had pulled out of the limbo of the shulkers-- no easy task. They surrounded the sleeping form of Zoom, almost begging to be enjoyed. Rusty floated over and kneeled beside him. 

     Blankets and all, he raised Zoom off the ground, careful to keep his helmet close as to avoid pulling the cannula. Despite being much taller than Rusty, he fit cozily into the curve of one of the chairs. Rusty whirred in soft amusement as Zoom was absorbed into the Comfort Pile. He looked over to the side, where one of Zoom’s feet dangled, and frowned. Organics didn’t heal that quickly, did they? A brief scan confirmed that, no, Zoom’s ankle remained damaged. Now that he was unconscious, Rusty wondered what he could do without any protesting. A not-very-successful venture through Zoom’s bag proved not much, yielding only a small roll of old bandages. Everything else seemed like the polar opposite of medical supplies-- at least, he hoped the collection of random bones and spider eyes wasn’t medical.

     His fingers barely graced Zoom’s foot as he cautiously pried away the boot and sock. The only anatomy Rusty understood was a house’s anatomy, but even he could see that the ankle was swelled. He was also pretty sure that it wasn’t meant to be 4.8 shades closer to red than the rest of Zoom’s leg. Pulling up pieces of information from the books Grian read him, he concluded that the course of action was to cease the swelling. The proper program to execute the goal was wrapping the ankle. 

     Rusty’s eyes flicked up every now and then to Zoom’s grimacing face, a dull ache in his own chest cavity. 

     “Sorry, Zoom, sorry,” he whispered illogically. It wasn’t as if Zoom could hear him. 

     Zoom awoke in a different place than when he had fallen asleep. Upon noticing this, he shot up in a panic. His back was on something gentle and cushioned, and there was dark wooden furniture spread about. A fireplace crackled by his ear and… he was still in the same place as he had fallen asleep in. Gazing around, he let himself lean back against the armchair he had apparently been moved to. He fully relaxed when Rusty rounded the corner. 

     The robot was whirring to himself, carrying various tools in his hands. He was half-way through depositing them into a shulker box when Zoom cleared his throat. 

     “Awake!” Rusty cheered once he turned to face Zoom. Uncontrollably smiling, his head lazily rolled to follow Rusty floating closer. He didn’t even notice-- or care-- that his helmet wasn’t there to hide the grin. Rusty did a quick 180 in his emotions, as usual, and adopted a concerned expression. “Your ankle?”

     “Oh,” Zoom cleared his throat, voice still thick with sleep, “it’s uh…” Now that he was focused on it, he realised that the pain that had been at the forefront of his mind was now at the back. It still ached, and a twinge made him cringe when he tried shifting it, but overall it was bearable. “It’s actually a lot better. What’d you do?”

     Rusty just pointed at it uselessly. Zoom huffed and sat up, pushing aside his blankets. He was careful not to jostle himself as he examined Rusty's handiwork. Off-white wrappings bound his bare foot, covering up where he knew it was swelled-- wait, were those his bandages?

     "Uh," he said, "thanks. I didn't know you knew how to do that." Rusty beamed. He held out his hand for Zoom to take, gingerly helping him to his feet. As gentle as Rusty was, Zoom still found himself fumbling and uncertain of how to balance. They stumbled into each other, and couldn’t help but giggle. Once stable, Rusty backed up and jumped in excitement. Zoom raised his eyebrows, mimicking Rusty as best as he could without hurting himself further, instead doing an awkward shoulder boogie. Rusty gestured to the room around them expectantly.

     "Furniture?" Zoom asked.

     "Furniture!" Rusty said. Levitating faster than Zoom could keep up with, he set off to tour the house. 

     “Now wait just a moment!” Zoom said, clicking the mask section of his helmet away from the rest and replacing his cannula. “Okay, ready,” he said, much more mechanically.

     The main room was, predictably, a living room. The fireplace churned away as the centerpiece of the wall to the right of the front door, lumpy armchairs flanking it on each side. Mismatched side tables and coffee tables filled up the empty space. An antique desk faced the opposite wall, beside the far door.

     "You sure did a lot while I was out… how long was that, by the way?" Zoom glanced out the window at the darkened sky. He hoped that it was the same day that he had passed out on.

     “9.26 hours!” 

     Zoom hummed in response, and Rusty pulled him through the far door and into another room. This one was a bedroom, a billowing bed taking up most of it. He knew he had just woken up, but the fluffy comforter called to Zoom like no one else. He hobbled over and flopped onto it. The covers poofed up around him as he sunk into it.

     “This... “ he sighed, “yes.” Rusty giggled and flew onto the opposite side. He laid straight out, and Zoom could’ve sworn he was levitating an inch above the mattress itself. Rusty’s head dipped forward to rest on Zoom’s arm.

     “... Soft,” Rusty said. Zoom chuckled. 

     “Not talkin’ about the bed, are you?” He felt Rusty shake his head. Weirdly enough, it seemed like Zoom had a nonstop smile stuck to his face this morning.

     Rusty lead him through more of the house, but there wasn’t much to see. A small kitchen of furnaces, cauldrons, and barrels was connected to the main room, on the wall left of the house’s entrance. Lanterns hung by the door and sat at periodic locations, casting a soft orange glow over the warm brown. At first glance, the interior looked mostly finished, but Zoom knew that the empty shelves and side tables weren’t intentional. 

      “Where’d you even get this stuff?” He asked as he settled into the living room again. He had returned to the safety of his Comfort Pile, peeking out to watch Rusty fiddle with the shulker boxes by the door. 

     “Collected it.”

     “That… didn’t answer my question?”

     Rusty didn’t respond, and Zoom huffed quietly to himself. He’d let him keep his secrets. Rusty put away two of the boxes, leaving one remaining. He must’ve grabbed another while Zoom was unconscious. Grinning, he carried it over and set it onto the coffee table. He stood still, staring eagerly. Zoom looked down at it, up at Rusty, and back down.

     “Yes?” He asked, unsure of what exactly Rusty expected.

     “Decoration time!”

     “Ah… yes… decoration time…”

     While still watchful of Zoom’s bandaged ankle, Rusty pulled him up dramatically. Zoom waited as Rusty floated off to fetch Zoom’s stuff. 

     “Where?” Rusty asked, holding his bag towards him. 

     “Oh, I dunno, let me see what’s in there.” He took the bag and opened it, searching for anything display-worthy. On the coffee table, he set aside a few books and bones. “That’s kinda it.”

     “... Room?” Rusty hazarded a guess, pointing towards the bedroom. 

     “Sure,” he said, and then laugh under his breath, “Zoom room.” They carried the things into the other area, placing them onto the shelf above the bed. It was a start. 

     When it came to Rusty’s decoration contributions, it was clear who was more prepared. Item after item came from the limitless shulker box, each one making Rusty more gleeful than the last. Zoom wasn’t allowed to help too much-- silly organic man condemned to armchair arrest for hurting himself-- but he tried regardless. Rusty humored his suggestions on where certain things should go, but generally disregarded them. Eventually, Zoom retrieved his sketchbook from his bag, the only book he hadn’t left in the bedroom. He idly doodled while Rusty flitted about, placing a painting here and an empty flower pot there. 

     When he hadn’t seen or heard Rusty in a few minutes, he looked around, only to find him hovering above the back of the chair, watching Zoom’s pen on the book.

     “Oh, geez,” he startled, exhaling heavily. 

     “What are you drawing?”

     “Oh, uh,” Zoom blushed slightly, “it’s you.” And it was-- it wasn’t the best or most realistic, but on Zoom’s paper was a sketch of Rusty’s face. He was looking down, his hands reaching for something out of frame. There was a smile on his face. In each stroke, Zoom had captured his fondness for Rusty. Even something as simple as looking through a shulker box, Zoom deemed worthy of a drawing. Rusty was starry-eyed as he gazed at the page.

     “Me,” he whispered, pointing at it, now hanging over the back of the chair. 

     “You like it?” Zoom asked. His instinct was to be embarrassed, but he couldn’t deny how awe-struck Rusty was. Rusty nodded vigorously. “Well… here.” He handed the book to Rusty, who lit up. 

     “Can I…?” Rusty started, moving to tear the page out of the book. Surprised, Zoom nodded. Rusty separated it from the rest of the pages and floated over to the mantle, carefully propping the picture up by a few books and a flower pot. Zoom hoped his mask covered his reddening face.

     Rusty resumed his work as though nothing had happened, but Zoom was too distracted to draw now. He chatted instead, making stupid comments about whatever thing was pulled from the box. Upon reaching in one last time, Rusty whirred excitedly. Out came a jukebox, which he plopped between the desk and the kitchen. Zoom followed with his eyes as Rusty rushed to pull out a few music discs. Ignoring his orders, he left the warmth of his chair and walked over, grabbing and toting a lantern. The records shined under the orange glare.

     “Wait, wait, wait,” he stopped Rusty from sliding in a red disc, pointing to one with a black label, “Do that one instead.”

     "Why?"

     "Uh… I dunno. I’m tired of red." 

     He popped Stal into the machine and watched as it came to life. The gentle bass flowed out, making Zoom grin. Rusty gave him a strange look as he set the lantern aside and interlaced their hands, dragging Rusty into the middle of the floor. Facing each other, Zoom shimmied back and forth. Rusty laughed in utter confusion.

     "What?" Zoom whined, "Dance with me, you metal loser!" 

     "Dance…?"

     "Yeah! You know dancing, right?"

     "Theoretically."

     "Well it's about to get literal!" 

     Zoom took hold of Rusty’s other hand and lifted it above his head. He gently motioned for Rusty to spin, which he did. They giggled at how choppy it was.

     “Good-- good job,” he got out between laughs.

     “Zoom turn!” Rusty encouraged, shooting their hands into the air again. They barely went above Zoom’s head. 

     “Usually it’s the shorter one doing the spinning,” he said, ducking beneath Rusty’s elbow. In lieu of responding, Rusty mimicked the high-pitched melody from the song, his out-of-tune whirrs coming out a split second later than the actual song. Zoom hummed the bass. The record looped, but they were too wrapped up in clumsily circling the floor to notice. They were too wrapped up in each other to pay anything else in the world any mind.

Chapter Text

     "Come on Rust," Zoom groaned. "I really gotta do all the work around here?" Rusty whirred from the other side of the open window. Zoom came into frame and leaned on the windowsill, looking inside at Rusty with an unimpressed expression. He squinted from behind his sunglasses. He held onto an uprooted flower from the garden beneath him, scattering dirt across the kitchen counter. 

     "Building rustic houses… good. Maintaining rustic houses… less good." He hovered closer to the window, glancing down disdainfully at the mess Zoom was making.

     "You lazy bum! Get out here!" To coax him, Zoom lightly shook the lump of soil, tossing it everywhere. An evil smirk crossed his face when Rusty shot forward and reached to grab him. He jumped away from the window and laughed. "You gotta come out here to get me!"

     Luckily, his plan worked, as Rusty booked it out the door and around the corner. He screeched and laughed as he tried to run, but Rusty tackled him before could get away. They never touched the ground, though, for the sake of both Zoom’s ankle and their garden. Rusty held him up in the air like a small child who’s been naughty. 

     “Don’t dirty my kitchen,” Rusty scolded. 

     “Don’t make me do all the chores!”

     Rusty whirred stubbornly. Zoom huffed even more stubbornly. 

     “Plus, these are for your decorations, too,” he said, trying a different approach. Rusty tilted his head to the side and gently set Zoom on the ground. “Yeah! We can use ‘em to fill up all your flower pots!” He pulled Rusty down to kneel by the garden, gesturing around to the selection of yellow, white, pink, and blue flowers. He carefully set his gloved hands into the dirt and uncupped the poppy he had been carrying. Rusty watched as he expertly pushed the surrounding garden bed onto the roots and packed it down. He was still gazing at the flower when he realised Zoom was gazing at him . “You wanna pick one?”

     “Pick one?”
    “To put in a pot. I don’t have enough yet to fill all of them, but you can have one now.”

     Rusty grinned and nodded. He examined the collection, indecisive. His eyes darted to a delicate pink tulip by the one Zoom had just planted, and reached to grab for it.

     “Woah, careful! Here, lemme show you,” Zoom said. His fingers brushed Rusty’s hands, bringing them closer to the ground. He directed them under the dirt, protectively encapsulating the roots and stem. They lifted the little plant out of the bed. Zoom smiled proudly. 

     Standing and reaching into the kitchen window, Zoom fetched a pot for the tulip. He turned it towards Rusty, ready for the filling. 

     “That’s it, there you go…” he softly encouraged. “Y’know, I learned this plant stuff after I came back from-- from uh, the void. Being banned.” He was staring at the flower petals with a tender look in his eyes. “It was nice to have something to touch-- and the color …” Zoom’s eyes left the plant and he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m just-- I’m just rambling.”

     “No!” Rusty said, coming out harsh. He accidentally shook the flower pot a little rougher than he meant to, the stem swaying back and forth. “No ‘sorry’s!” Zoom blinked at him. “I want,” he paused, calculating, “to know.”

     “... About me?” His voice sounded normal, but Rusty had started to pick up on his patterns; right about now, he was probably feeling vulnerable. Rusty nodded with too much enthusiasm. Zoom scoffed and looked down again.

     “Thanks,” he said after a moment. Although he hadn’t actually said any more, Rusty let it slide. Zoom was a little touch-and-go when it came to personal matters. He felt awed enough that Zoom shared even that much. He looked back up and cleared his throat, pointing to the flower in Rusty’s hands. “Come on, let’s go find a place to put this.”

     Rusty stared at the way the pink petals caught the sunlight through the kitchen window. He could spot every individual vein, all interlocking and painting an intricate system--

     “Rust?” Zoom asked from behind him. He started and spun around like a top, his feet a healthy few inches above the floor. Lo and behold, there Zoom stood, peering down at him. His hair dripped across the shoulder his cannula pack’s strap was slung over, a spatula on the other side, tucked into his crossed arms. “You alright up there?”

     Rusty whirred in confusion.

     “Uh, I’ve only called your name like, four times. Did you forget it again, bolt-brain?” He chuckled. Rusty mimicked his laugh, floating closer.

     “Did I miss something?” He asked. 

     “Not really, they’re still fryin’ away in there,” Zoom said, crouching in front of the furnace to get a glance inside. The smell of lightly-burnt cookie wafted through the room. Rusty followed curiously as Zoom’s face morphed into one of mild horror. “I… think we might’ve got the recipe wrong…”

     “Explain?”

     “Well, last I checked, I was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to turn into that bubbly, uh, monstrosity.” Rusty joined him to get a look for himself and, despite knowing even less about food than Zoom, somehow agreed. Zoom faced him. “Uh… is it time to slay this beast?” He jabbed his thumb towards the lump for emphasis. Rusty wasn’t very sure what that entailed, but solemnly nodded nonetheless.

     Apparently, it entailed Zoom quietly screaming as he dashed outside with a pan singeing through his gloves, the cookie-hell baby bubbling and popping the whole way. Rusty whirred a laugh as he watched him fumble to fling it away through the window, the dim lighting of the valley making it truly look like a monster was stuck to Zoom’s hand. He was still gazing outside when he heard his name.

     “Rusty?” This time, Zoom was much closer, a concerned expression on his face. Rusty looked back and forth between the window and the now very near Zoom. How did he travel that quickly? “Are you okay? You’ve been really… spacey today.”

     “All is well, Zoom,” he assured as best as he could. Really, it wasn’t any cause for concern-- at least, not in Rusty’s mind. “No worrying!” If Zoom’s thoughtful glances lasted a little too long, well, Rusty didn’t notice.

     Leaning into the soft curve of Zoom's side as they sat on the rug, Rusty dozed. He couldn't help it-- the warm fire was only a coffee table away, its soothing crackles combo-attacking him with Zoom's relaxed voice. It wouldn't have been a big deal, except for the fact that Rusty didn't usually doze . 

     Zoom paused in his sketching and commentary, looking from Rusty's own unfinished drawing, to his unfocused face. He reached over and brushed his hand through Rusty's fringe. The robot perked up, eyes coming back to life. 

     "What're you drawing?" Zoom asked, trying to reign Rusty’s attention back in. Their pictures were both in pen, much to his dismay. Zoom didn’t mind, but he knew that Rusty loved using colors. He slowly sat up and leaned over the table. Zoom’s eyes stayed on him and his sluggish movements. 

     “Zoom,” Rusty said.

     “Yes?”

     “No,” Rusty whirred, “ Zoom .”

     “Huh-- oh! You’re drawing me!” Rusty let out a high-pitched trill, laying his head on Zoom’s arm on the table. Despite the awkward angle, he got back to work on the paper. His grip was tight as ever. The only upside to using pen was the smoother lines, whereas a pencil or crayon would have broken already.

     He had only finished the helmet when Zoom called to him again. Rusty hummed in question.

     "What are you thinkin' about?" Zoom asked.

     "Thinking?"

     "Yeah, you just keep kinda… zoning. Figured you must've been thinking about something." 

     “Not zoning,” Rusty pouted after a pause. Zoom rolled his eyes, but the anxious expression didn’t leave his face. He simply returned to his still life sketch, glancing over every few minutes. Rusty lazily continued his art, either not noticing or caring about Zoom’s scrutiny. Occasionally, he would stop, his thousand-mile stare returning.

     By the time Zoom decided to go to bed, he still had yet to even finish the drawing.

     Rain pattered lightly on the windows, the wind pushing against the walls of their cabin in fruitless attempts to get inside. The room was toasty and blanketed in shadows, the only light coming from the fireplace and the lantern on the side table behind Zoom's head. He was speaking softly, reading from an open book resting on the top of Rusty's head. He was indulging Rusty now, but he was well aware that the robot had been unusually lethargic all day. The sun had long set, and yet he had stayed just as sleepy as earlier. Zoom slowed to the end of a passage and paused.

     "Alright," Zoom snapped the book closed, "we gotta talk." From where he laid on Zoom's stomach further down the armchair, Rusty let out an annoyed noise. "Are you okay? And answer for real this time."

     "Read more."

     "Rusty, I'll read more Little Prince to you later. Just answer the question."

     "I want more now."

     Zoom huffed and set the book on the side table, crossing his arms. Sensing the movement, Rusty unsteadily propped himself up and glanced between the book and Zoom. He made sure to make his facial expression mean enough to show Zoom.

     " No . I'm serious. It's… alarming, seeing you so-- I don't know, worn out? You've been acting strange."

     Rusty harrumphed and turned away again, wrapping his arms around himself. Zoom rolled his eyes. 

     "This too! You're all cranky. Like, what's going on?"

     "There is nothing."

     "So what, this is normal? This is just how you act?"

     "You wouldn't know."

     "I wouldn't know ? So-- so after living with you for, I don't know, a few weeks, I wouldn't know? After all that I've done for you?" Zoom bit off his words, holding himself back from saying more. He waited for Rusty's response. 

     "You sound like Grian," he finally whispered. Zoom exhaled, a heavy feeling in his stomach.

     "Shit. I'm sorry." Rusty didn't say anything, just hugged himself tighter. "Hey," Zoom pleaded, shifting to sit upright and dislodging Rusty's reclined position. Rusty straightened out as well, his face inclined towards Zoom. Still close enough to count the metal rings in his eyes' lenses, Zoom saw something gut-wrenching inside them. Written in the lines of his face was the same fear that Rusty had spoken with when Grian had come up in conversation before-- the fear of what he had built with Zoom being taken. Only this time, it wasn't Grian who he was afraid of taking it. 

     Zoom swallowed his heart down his throat. 

     “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean it like that. You… you know that.”

     Rusty just stared at him. 

     “I’m— I’m sorry , I didn’t— it’s not my place to… to ask you to… you don’t owe anything to me. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re not like that, I just, I’m worried. Because I know something’s different. And I don’t know if it’s bad.” Zoom broke off the prolonged eye contact. He hoped he hadn’t screwed up too badly. He hoped he had got his point across. More than anything else, he hoped he hadn’t scared Rusty.

     “I am… running low,” Rusty said quietly, “on battery.” Zoom blinked. 

     “Oh.”

     There was a beat of almost-silence; the wind and rain still whistled against the logs of their home, drowning out distant rolls of thunder. Zoom felt the sickly sensation of dread rising in his chest. 

     “Do you… you can, uh, fix that, right?”

     “Yes,” Zoom breathed a sigh of relief, “I have a charging port.”

     “So… you’re just… tired? That’s it?” Rusty nodded. “Oh.” Zoom hummed in thought. “Wait, why the hell didn’t you just say that?” Although he was genuinely upset, he aimed to dilute the anger, playfully smacking Rusty’s arm. Regardless of Zoom’s stress, Rusty didn’t deserve to be frightened again. 

     “My charger is in Grian’s base.” Rusty spoke in a flat drone, but Zoom spotted how his shoulders tensed. He didn’t need to explain any more for Zoom to read between the lines. 

     “You don’t… have to go back there. I can get it for you,” Zoom rushed to comfort. Rusty looked up at him, his eyes searching Zoom’s for any indication of a lie. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to flinch— instead of a voice, a gentle buzz fizzled from him, and his eyes flashed a red light almost too quickly for Zoom to catch. He clamped his mouth shut, teeth clicking. Immediately following, thunder drummed through the air. Zoom shot up, alert. His first instinct was to react to the storm, but he shoved it down and brought his focus back to Rusty. “What— what was that? Are you okay?”

     “Battery,” Rusty croaked, his voice’s glitch giving Zoom deja vu. The storm came down in sheets, pounding to get inside. Successfully on edge, Zoom stood up and grabbed his helmet, cautious to avoid snagging his cannula. There was an antsiness to his actions, a desperation to distract himself from the anxiety. He reached for Rusty, who still sat in a corner of the chair. 

     "Come on, come lay down," he said, reasoning that moving to the bedroom would save Rusty’s energy. The other moved drowsily, uncurling from his protective pose and into Zoom’s arms. With only mild strain, he lifted Rusty and held him against his chest. He heard Rusty squeak out a few tiny clicks, his face buried in Zoom’s shirt. 

     “There we go, there we go,” he cooed as he delicately set Rusty upon the covers. With surprise, Zoom noticed that he sunk into the bed, as opposed to his usual hover. He gnawed at his lip in worry. A bolt of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, making him jerk forward and into bed beside Rusty. He crawled under the sheet, pulling the comforter over both of their heads. In the darkness, Zoom could just make out Rusty’s silhouette and the dim, red glow of his eyes. The dreaded clap of thunder shook the house and his body. He nudged closer to Rusty’s cold form. 

     To his bewilderment, Rusty began a soft tune, whirring away in uneven lengths. Sleepily, his fingers trailed up Zoom’s side, reaching around him and loosely holding on. With Rusty’s arms around him, Zoom felt the extent of his trembles— another flash shining through the material of the covers, another ear-shattering growl of thunder, another bout of quaking. He gripped onto the threads of Rusty’s sweater, trying to focus on the vibrations from his chest instead of the whirling weather. 

     “Don’t do that,” Zoom half-heartedly chided, his breath quivering, “you’ll waste your battery.” Rusty said nothing and continued humming, trying to lull away the fear and ignoring Zoom’s warnings. The wind’s howling beat against the walls, nearly deafening the both of them. Rusty’s voice raised to combat it, glitching every few seconds in exhaustion. “Please,” Zoom begged, “please, you’re going to wear yourself out.” Another crash echoed through the sky and Zoom choked on his throat, grasping tighter to Rusty. He felt Rusty try to hold him tighter too, but the energy just wasn’t there. 

     Another flash. The seconds ticked away impossibly slowly, the only marker of time being the music of the sky and Rusty’s glitches. Zoom held his breath, both in anticipation and to keep it from shuddering. 

     The cacophonous noise rang through his head as the other shoe dropped, and Zoom worried that he had gone deaf, for he couldn’t hear anything else. Gradually, the sounds of air and water trickled back in, but not the most important sound. Not the sound of Rusty. 

     He was scared to look up, but he forced himself to bring his head away from Rusty’s now-still chest. He hoped desperately to see the little red pinpricks, to feel a movement, even to see the reflection of a lightning bolt on Rusty’s synthetic skin. 

     All was dark.

     “Rusty?” He whispered, his voice hoarse. His only response was the storm’s screams. He tried again, voice breaking, “Rusty?” 

     He pulled the comforter off of their heads, looking at Rusty’s face. It looked back at him, half-lidded eyes staring through him. A sudden illumination shot through the room, painting a full picture of Rusty’s motionless frame. A sob tore through Zoom as thunder rumbled again, loud as ever. He scrambled closer to Rusty in vain, pleading for any kind of comfort.

     “Please come back,” he whimpered, “please wake up.” He couldn't tell what was shaking more— his body or his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know if it was to keep the flashes of lightning out or to keep the tears in. Either way, it didn't work. Zoom hid his face in Rusty’s shoulder, clenching onto his hair tighter than he ever would dare to when Rusty was conscious. “Don’t leave me here, please— please wake up .” 

     His cheeks still damp, Zoom frantically moved across the cabin. The cushioning of his helmet helped dry his tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to care either way. He grabbed what he needed— enderpearls, a sword— from various cabinets and side tables. Every few seconds, he’d pass by the bedroom door, unable to stop himself from gazing in at Rusty. Lying in bed, he almost looked like he could have been sleeping, but the eyes gave it away. They remained vacant, unaware and unfocused. Zoom hadn’t fully noticed the constant light inside them until it was out. 

     He approached and gently closed them. Without looking back, he turned and made his way out of the house, locking it up. It didn’t feel right to leave Rusty there all alone, but he didn’t have any other choice. Shoving his emotions into the pit of his stomach, he began the trek he had made many times before. 

     The landscape was still dripping with rainwater, making Zoom cringe at the memory of the long, long night. The delirium of exhaustion and fear dragged it out, his grip on Rusty’s unmoving figure doing nothing to soothe his hopelessness. In fact, he felt almost as horrible as he did now, wasting time meaninglessly crying for Rusty’s comfort when he should have been working to fix him. He grimaced and swallowed, eyes staring holes into the ground in shame as he walked. 

     Fortunately, the journey was smoother this time around, what with his preparations. He decided to actually use the cursed boat path in the Nether hub’s tunnels, going for speed over comfort. Plus, by that time, his ankle had started to mildly ache. It was a relief to take some weight off. 

     Enderpearling down, he glanced over his shoulder. The emptiness of the cavernous structure set him on edge, more so than he already was. This secretive mission— this anxiety adventure, if you will— of sneaking through Grian’s domain was unsettling on his own. Just thinking about encountering him, or any hermit, made Zoom feel like his throat was going to close up. He cleared it and moved on. 

     The glass of the hub’s floor had long since been repaired, and Grian’s portal wasn’t too far. Every movement he made echoed through like alarm bells as he reached the doorway to his destination. He held his breath for both his helmet and his beating heart to reset as he stepped through. 

     Uncannily similar to the last time Zoom had dared to invade the giant white building, the only signs of life he could discern were his own. He made his way to where he knew the poorly hidden room was, walking on eggshells the entire time. The shoddy staircase hurt significantly less without the hindrance of an injured foot, but his tension was strong enough to make up for the pain. He nearly had a heart attack as he searched for the light switch, bumping into metal counters left and right. Grian had left it on last time, why couldn’t he have had the decency to do it twice? On the other hand, it calmed Zoom’s nerves by a miniscule amount— surely, that meant Grian was less likely to be home, right?

     After an embarrassing amount of time, he gave up. He clicked a small button on the side of his helmet, squinting when a flashlight sparked to life. His eyes darted about, the ray of sight hitting every possible object in the room. Its layout was confusing. The counters and tables had, for the most part, been pushed to one side, the supplies and tools on the spread among the mess on the floor. The centerpiece was the infamous closet, now partially shut. The children’s books from before were shifted as well, now stacked on the floor in front of the closet. 

     Despite all the changes, Zoom payed the interior design no mind, charging straight forward. He moved to swing the closet doors open, no lock to stop him. He looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. Hooked at the top corner of the closet was what must have been an electrical port— there was nothing else like it that it could be. A wire stretched down and out a small hole in the back of the wood, presumably into a power source of some kind. Zoom would have to carefully dislodge whatever mechanism he was looking at if he had any hope of preserving its function. He lifted his arm to get closer when the light flicked on, illuminating the whole of the room and effectively blinding him. He flinched and covered his visor, but he didn’t need his eyes to figure out what was happening— or who .

     “What the hell are you doing?”

Chapter Text

Zoom whirled around like a deer in headlights. Wings puffed up, there stood Grian, filling up the doorway. His hand was still raised to the light switch, tense and ready to fight or flee-- Zoom couldn't tell which. 

     "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

     "I-- I'm…" Zoom cursed himself for stammering.

     "It was you , wasn't it?" Grian pointed furiously, his nervousness fading away. He advanced on Zoom, who stood his ground.

     "Get away from me," he said, surprising himself at how cold his voice was. Underneath his collected persona, Zoom felt his insides simmering in anger. His fingers twitched, aching to act out his distaste.
    “I- I’m sorry ?” Grian asked in disbelief, but he did stop. His speech was more even when he next spoke, but it stayed far from calm. “Explain, now, or I’m going to call Xisuma.”

     Zoom’s breath caught. He didn’t dare to show that his skin crawled at just the thought. His heart and thoughts raced. 

     “You wouldn’t,” he snapped. Grian’s hand shifted to his waist, reaching for his communicator. Zoom mimicked him, going for his sword. He stopped when Grian did.

     A dark look in his eyes, Grian stilled and repeated; “ Explain. ” They stood like that for a few seconds, holding tense eye contact as Zoom gathered his thoughts.

     "I just need that," he said, pointing back without taking his sight off of Grian. Grian cautiously moved his gaze away from Zoom's and to where he was gesturing to.

     "The… the charger?" He squinted and gave Zoom a puzzled expression. Zoom thickly swallowed the disgust and discomfort down, forcing himself to beg.

     "Please," he said, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth for Rusty's sake, "I need it." Grian scoffed and leaned back, giving Zoom a dismissive once-over.

     "Why?"

     "He's…" not dead , but close enough-- "he needs his charger." 

     "NPC?" For half of a second, Zoom didn't recognise the name. He felt his stomach turn when he remembered the label Grian had given Rusty-- an inferior version. He worried that he was going to start shaking with how much anger he was slamming into the back of his mind and out of the way. If this was how strongly he was affected without Grian having actually done anything in front of him, how was he supposed to restrain himself the second Grian slipped up? He'd have to figure it out if he wanted to escape Xisuma being notified. More importantly, he'd have to figure it out if he wanted Rusty to stay safe at home. 

     "Uh, yeah. Yeah," Zoom said after a pause. Grian rolled his eyes and walked forward, not bothering to side step Zoom and ramming his shoulder into his. He had taken another few steps toward the closet before Zoom even had the chance to react. He stood by and watched in unease as Grian roughly removed the charger from its place.

     “Oh-- oh, thanks…?” Zoom said as Grian turned and began walking back towards him, toting the newly-freed device. He certainly hadn’t been expecting it to be given to him so quickly.

     “This isn’t for you ,” Grian said over his shoulder, the uncaring tone washing over Zoom like ice water. He kicked the mess of items on the floor out of his way as he stormed through the room, eyes scanning for something specific.

     “Uh… what do you-- what do you mean?”

     “Well, you’ve already stolen some of my shit,” Grian said through clenched teeth, still avoiding facing Zoom, “You’re not getting more of it.”

     “What are you on about? What have I stolen?” Zoom’s hands gestured helplessly at the air, putting air quotes around “stolen.” He could genuinely feel Grian grating away at his brain, the confusion and anger rotting his brain cells. 

     “Don’t play stupid!” Grian’s voice raised an octave, scooping up what seemed like random tools and turning towards Zoom in one fluid motion. “You stole my robot… demon… thing , and now you’re trying to take more of my stuff cause-- cause, what, you’re trying and failing to maintain it?”

     Zoom’s outrage was set on the backburner for a moment as he reeled in shock. 

     “It? It? Don’t you dare act as if he’s not a person. Like-- like he’s your property or something,” he snarled. He bit back a “disgusting,” instead carefully monitoring the muscles in Grian’s face. It morphed into something of confusion, to resignation, to annoyance. They stood silently once more. He wasn’t sure if it was a competition or simply an awkward lull. 

     “Where is it ?” Grian asked, pointedly ignoring Zoom’s outburst. 

     “What makes you think I would tell you, hermit ?” He shot back, snapping the last word the same way Grian had. He tried not to notice the way his stomach turned at the idea of a hermit finding their home.

     “What other choice do you have?” Grian whispered. Zoom hoped to all that was above that his visor hid his devastation. He was right. What other choice did he have? To fight? To risk Xisuma being called, and to risk Rusty’s safety? To have Grian fight back, not knowing that there was no respawning for Zoom? His hand instinctively fell closer to the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t put his life on the table, not while Rusty laid in their bed all alone. 

     “And what would you do?” He asked softly, regrettably so. 

     “Help,” Grian said, minutely lifting the charger. Zoom glanced at it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. After a second of last-minute contemplation, he reached down and into his pocket. There, he fetched his comm, dejectedly flipping it open and clicking around. Grian looked mildly surprised as he rattled off coordinates, pulling out his own communicator and plugging them in. Zoom’s heart jumped a bit as he watched the other using his comm-- that was too close to calling Xisuma. 

     Grian shoved the mechanical items into his inventory, hurried to the stairs, and out of sight.

     “Hey, wait! Stop!” Zoom yelled, desperately chasing after. His cries echoed from all sides, exacerbating his panic and adrenaline. He emerged from the shulker mess just in time to watch the tail end of a wing vanish into the expansive Nether portal. “Shit,” he whimpered.

     Through the portal, he already felt cheated. He coughed on the lack of air as he rushed out and onto the endless glass floor. He couldn't tell if the sound he was hearing was the flap of distant wings or his own blood pumping through his eardrums. A few sloppy wheezes and ender pearls later and he was on the upper level, rowing the ice-path boat faster than he had ever before. 

     He just hoped it was fast enough.

    The first thing Rusty registered upon consciousness was a vague worry. He hoped that he hadn’t been out for too long this time. He hated when he died-- it was scary, disorienting, and it was no fun to be at the complete mercy of who or whatever was nearby. It wasn’t often that it happened, and he wanted it to stay that way. Idly booting his systems up, he wondered if it was the same as the hermits’ deaths. He didn’t have a comm to see if he had his own death messages.

     The quickest system to fully load was his touch sensors, and he found that he sat hunched over, his back awkwardly craned forwards. Subtle movements made themselves known in the general area behind him, occasionally fiddling with the mechanics on the nape of his neck. It took longer than he would have liked to compute each sensation. 

     Soon after, sounds began to flood in. The ever-present buzz of the charger inside his mind muffled the already quiet room, but he was able to place gentle clicks and clacks of the tinkering behind him. The limited senses he had painted a familiar scene. He supposed Grian had found and patched him up, diligently keeping him updated and maintained. He’d probably get a scolding the second he made it known that he was awake. 

     He didn’t get an inkling that anything was off until his sight blinked on. The light in his eyes flickered on, life returning as he scanned his surroundings. He was… decidedly, not in his room. There was no ugly white, no cold, hard tables, no tools scattered about. This place was warm, cozy, and soft-- just like Zoom. Rusty’s metaphorical heart skipped a beat. Where was Zoom?

     The only thing he could discern in his peripherals was the shadow of a hand. No one else knew his systems so expertly, so he had no doubt that it was Grian working away back there. He hazarded a whirr, only partially in fear. He knew he was safe with Grian, but that wasn't what was bothering him. 

     Was Zoom?

     There was no response. Grian either didn’t hear or didn’t care. That was another red flag; usually he chatted away about something, anything . It didn’t matter if Rusty was listening. That probably wasn’t the point, anyway. But now, Grian was silent, aside from a sigh every now and then. He couldn’t place why, but it stuck into mind like a barbed thorn. Dread and unjustified shame seeped into him like a poison. How did Grian know to come back here, to their home? Where was Zoom? What had happened between now and the last night he remembered? Was Zoom okay after the storm? Where was Zoom?

     His train of thought screeched to a stop when a piercing pain shot through his neck. He wanted to flinch, to react in any way to the attack, but he stayed motionless and speechless. It gripped him tightly, and he wished he could look back at Grian, or whatever the source was. It shocked him; he had never experienced this in his previous maintenance.

    Almost perfectly timed to distract him, Rusty saw and heard the front door swing open on his right. In stomped an out-of-breath Zoom, his ragged exhales echoing out of his helmet’s speakers. He turned towards them, and Rusty tried to call out in glee, but nothing made it through the paralysis of his repair state. Instead, Zoom ignored him, moving past to confront the man behind him. There was a loud exclamation and gesturing, but Zoom kept his distance, still easily in the corner of Rusty’s eye. For the first time, he heard Grian speak up, the only discernible aspect being his strained tone. The words were fuzzy in Rusty’s unfocused ears. There was a sudden silence, and the movement at his charging port resumed. The pain did as well, increased tenfold-- a broken whine finally made its way past the powerlessness of his form. 

     He caught Zoom’s head whipping down to face him, clearly having heard the noise. He whirled back to Grian and took rapid strides towards him. Before Rusty could even track what was beginning next to him, Zoom had snatched Grian by the arm, yanking him up and away. Startled wings bristled as Grian tugged away. The intrusive discomfort immediately faded from Rusty’s mechanics. Something small and metal skid across the wooden floor, falling from Grian’s hand and innocently blinking up at them.

     Zoom yelled something that was nonsense to Rusty, jarringly louder than he had ever come to expect from him. Zoom grabbed Grian back and dug into his arm, keeping him close. Rusty couldn't tear his gaze away as Zoom drastically stuck a hand out, shaking it in Rusty's direction. Grian failed once more to push himself away, screeching something back. There was more movement, and Rusty thought he saw a flurry of wings hit the ground, but there was too much obscuring his vision. He gasped lightly, noticing only now that his face was wet. Apparently, this is when Zoom noticed, too.

     Still faster than Rusty could follow, Zoom moved, coming closer and gently shifting him upwards. He could see now that he had been hunched over the coffee table, back exposed for restoration. The clunky charger bumped around as Zoom propped him up against the front of one armchair. Still limp, he clicked pitifully. Gradually gaining back fine muscle control, he turned his face into that of a plea. Zoom repositioned, sitting beside and gently guiding Rusty into his lap. 

     “It’s okay,” Zoom hushed, “you’re okay.” They were the only words Rusty had been able to pick up this entire time, and despite what they meant, they gave him only a little peace of mind. His thoughts were still racing over their fight. Zoom and Grian couldn’t fight, they just couldn’t . Not the important people. They couldn’t hurt each other.

     With Zoom’s fingers combing through his hair, he let his whirrs of distress calm into purrs. If nothing else, he could shut himself off and continue charging, pretending that everything was okay now that Zoom was here. Nothing could touch him as long as Zoom was here.

     Zoom paid no mind to the grumbling of Grian, keeping his eyes glued to the sniffling boy in his lap. He seemed to be drifting off now, possibly to continue his charging and rebooting sequence. His gentle purrs felt nice on Zoom's lap and Zoom's heart. 

     Grian stood and made to come closer, his hand reaching for the little tracker from where it had slid to not two feet from them. Zoom's shoulders tensed and his posture trained on Grian. A growl reverberated from within his helmet. Grian halted, locking eyes and holding his hands up placatingly. He slowly backed away, until Zoom decided he was far enough away from Rusty, and the growl faded. Hesitantly, he sat against the far wall, wings semi-curled around himself. On his cheek, a blossoming purple bruise angrily stared Zoom down.

     "So…" 

     " What ?" Zoom cut him off, voice barely above a whisper. Grian swallowed.

     "Didn't know he could, uh… do that."

     "What?" Zoom scoffed, barking a sarcastic laugh, "Cry?"

     "... Yeah, exactly." Grian shuffled, eyes darting to the floorboards the second Zoom looked up. In this slower setting, he got a chance to really look at Grian, to take him in. He looked tired-- his dark circles went beyond just the roughing up Zoom had done. It was clear that, despite his wings adding to his size, he was smaller than Rusty by a good bit. He almost huffed a laugh upon seeing that Grian’s glasses were still askew from Zoom’s punch.

     Grian’s expression only grew more tense as the silence stretched on. At some point, he had begun to study Rusty’s sleeping face, brows furrowing. Zoom watched this change with fascination.

     “You know, I, uh,” Zoom coughed awkwardly, “I’d never heard him purr, either…” Grian gave him a strange look.

     “I have.”

     “When?” Zoom idly asked, examining how his own fingers brushed through Rusty’s hair. The vibrations had dimmed in his sleep, but purrs still emanated from him. 

     “When-- when, ah, I was reading to him, mostly.” Zoom glanced at him, still on guard, but curious. Grian saw his opportunity and continued. “Yeah, he’d sit in the closet and I’d open the doors and just read… Took me a bit to figure out which ones were quite, ah, at his level.” He surprised Zoom by the warmth in his voice. “I, uh, had to change the Three Little Pigs . I think if the surviving house was anything but rustic, it’d absolutely crush him.” He chuckled almost inaudibly, and Zoom found that he nearly wanted to smile. 

      Then he looked down, and he saw the tracker sitting close by, sitting too close to Rusty. The same tracker that Grian had been trying to shove into Rusty's circuitry, trying to shove himself into Rusty's life. If Zoom was going to smile at Grian, it wasn’t going to be any time soon. He’d need to earn it first.

Chapter Text

     For the first time in months, the atmosphere within the cabin was tense. Zoom had moved Rusty to the bedroom, keeping him away from Grian's prying eyes and fingers. From where he leaned on the kitchen counter, he watched Grian's every move. He visibly squirmed under Zoom’s harsh gaze, but Zoom couldn't bring himself to care. 

     Across the room, Grian tried and failed to look busy, fiddling with his tools. Wisely, the tracker had long since been tucked away and out of site. He hesitantly pressed a cold steak Zoom had handed him against his swollen cheek. He could feel the other's eyes on him, burning holes into his head, but he didn't look up and make contact. 

     "Let me…" Grian cleared his throat, "let me help him." His voice faltered at the end, and Zoom squinted his eyes. He wanted to be relieved-- their swap in power and his use of the proper pronoun for Rusty were both disarming, but Zoom knew better. Last time he checked, helping Rusty meant forcing a tracker into his wiring. Grian glanced up for a split second, and then down at the floor.

     "Why?" 

     "He… still needs more. The battery dying isn't good for him."

     "And why should I trust you?"

     "What?" Grian asked, with the first hint of anger behind his voice. "You just should . I made him. I know what I'm talking about."

     Zoom quelled his own annoyance. Again level headed, he shot back, "And who's to say you're not just-- just making that up? So you can stick that tracker back in him?" 

     "Well, fine then, here!" Grian fished in his pocket and pulled out the metal disc, no bigger than an inch in diameter. He stomped to Zoom and dropped it onto the counter. "Happy?"

     Zoom took one look at it before snatching it between two of his gloved fingers. He then promptly set it in the center of his palm and crunched it into pieces. The room was silence save for the gentle tap of the shards falling onto the wood. Grian gaped at him.

     "No."

     Grian didn't show a sign of leaving any time soon, but Zoom let him be. As much as he hated to admit it, a churning anxiety was slowly growing as the time Rusty spent unconscious did. In no world did he trust Grian but… maybe he should have trusted what he had said about the dying battery--

     He was sure Grian couldn't be trusted. Of course Rusty would crash. Hell, Zoom had slept longer than this before. Although, maybe it was best to keep the mechanic here. Just in case.

      "How long does he usually…" Zoom started. He couldn't stop himself from asking, poking his head into the bedroom for the millionth time. 

     "Sleep?" Grian finished. Zoom turned to face the coffee table where Grian sat on the floor. They made eye contact. 

     "Yeah…" 

     "... Don't really know. Somewhere between a few hours and a day. But keep in mind, that's standard for when he completely depletes his battery. Along with, you know… needing excess repairs." He had a pointed expression in both his words and his face. Zoom glanced down and saw that he still had his tools laid out, at the ready. He huffed and entered the bedroom completely. He almost couldn’t bear to leave Grian unsupervised, but it'd have to do for now. Anything to get just a moment away from him.

     Despite the circumstance, it was peaceful to watch Rusty's sleeping form in the setting sunlight.

     When Rusty finally sparked to life, Zoom was there to see it. He closed the book in his lap and eagerly turned to face the slow riser. He grinned uncontrollably at the sleepily blinking eyes, which gradually focused their lenses onto Zoom. Rusty seemed to calculate for a moment, but then his face lit up. Still too tired to talk, he let out the whirring equivalent of Zoom’s name. Without skipping a beat, Zoom hummed back in affection. 

      The two laid there for some time, simply resting their foreheads on each other and giggling. To Rusty, it had felt like no time had passed, but he could tell that something was off about Zoom. Maybe not right now, he was definitely smiley and happy at the moment. But… something about the way Zoom held onto him felt more urgent than he was accustomed to. It bled through the strong grip. It showed in the elated expression on his face. It was too obvious in his voice. The desperation, the dependency, seemed almost familiar to Rusty. There was something in the back of his mind begging to be looked at, but when he looked, he saw nothing. He couldn’t fully grasp onto why.

     When they did stand at last, he paused. Rusty couldn’t be sure, but thought he briefly saw Zoom gnawing on his lip, the way he did whenever his anxiety rose. His fingers fiddled with his cannula so intensely that for a moment, Rusty worried that his sharp nails were going to break through the material. However, he was calmed when he remembered that Zoom’s hands were soft. They weren’t strong like his own. 

     Zoom lead Rusty out of the bedroom, eyes darting from him to something ahead of them that Rusty couldn’t see. 

     When he did see, he jumped into the air, levitating instantly closer to Zoom. He gripped onto his arm, eyes wide.

     “Why?” He demanded in monotone, but Zoom could tell by the uncontrolled hold digging into his bicep that Rusty was on edge. 

     “Hey, NPC,” Grian said, going for friendly and coming off awkward. “How’s it goin’?”

     “How?”

     “... How-- how what?”

     “How are you here ?” Rusty‘s lenses flicked to Zoom, who had so far been silently observing. He could see the vulnerability in them.

     “He, uh,” Zoom rushed to begin, “he came to uh, fix you up.” He side-eyed Grian at that. “Remember?”

     “ What ?” Rusty said, voicebox grating beneath the word. Zoom suddenly felt sick. He assumed it was because of Rusty’s hurt tone, but that seemed… wrong.

     “Yeah… don’t be shocked if he doesn’t remember,” Grian chimed in, an almost smug look on his face. “Dead battery equals problems, like I told you.”

     Rusty looked back and forth between the two, taking in their apparent acquaintance. He backed off of Zoom’s side.

     “You brought him here?” He asked, an indescribable look on his face. Again, the words carried a screwed-up echo beneath them, making Zoom’s stomach lurch. He couldn’t quite recall if Rusty’s eyes always had that red tint before his battery died.

     “Yeah to--” his voice broke, and his throat was dry, “to help. Help you.”

     “You… you… you,” Rusty repeated, imitating the exact sound each time, like a broken record. The undertone was undeniably not mechanical now, and Zoom felt an energy coming off of him unlike any he had felt before. Just as when he had first noticed Rusty’s existence in the world, it wasn’t malicious, but he didn’t feel safe . Rusty’s eyes obsessively darted between Grian and Zoom. The aimless stammering faded into an ominous clanking sound, like a heavy chain being pulled from a wheel. 

     “Shit,” he heard Grian say. “He’s angry now.”

     “Angry?” Zoom croaked out. His heart was beating almost louder than the noises from Rusty’s mouth. He couldn’t explain how he knew, but he was certain that it wasn’t the correct answer. “He’s not angry.” 

     Rusty was still backing away, waiting for something from Zoom. He tried to catch what Rusty needed, at the same time as he tried to catch his breath. He decided to give him comfort, rolling the dice and hoping for the best.

     “Don’t-- don’t worry,” his throat closed up and his voice broke. He almost wanted to weep and-- was Rusty? Zoom blinked the growing disorientation from his eyes. Rusty seemed to be drooping . His expression remained the wide-eyed neutral, sizzling red eyes and mouth just open enough to release his resonating chainlink cry. What he had thought were tears dripping down his cheeks were clear to be the cheeks themselves, melting away in thin layers. Vaguely, he heard Grian curse and move closer. The nausea-inducing waves of uncertainty tripled with every step Grian took, and Zoom thought he might have begged for him to stay back. He couldn’t exactly hear anything other than his own blood pumping and Rusty.

     Instead, in a split-second act, he moved in front of Grian to physically block his path. His back was mere inches from the source of the rippling creepiness. Going against his fear, he blindly reached backwards and held his hand open for Rusty to take. The milliseconds ticked by excruciatingly as Zoom stared Grian down, watching in slow motion as his approach halted and his eyebrows shot upwards. Time felt so stalled that Zoom panicked in between heart beats, convinced that they had stopped all together. Then a trembling hand finally grabbed his own.

     The seconds resumed their typical fast pace, and Zoom breathed like he had held his breath for hours. Rusty’s fingers, usually cold as metal, were nearly scorching, but he forced himself to stay connected. A sense of relief that he didn’t know was even possible washed over him like ambrosia as the bone-chilling energy vanished. Somewhere in his head he knew that they were still spreading out of Rusty like a stuck tap, but for now he was immune. It was the opposite of his intuition-- if he held onto Rusty, he was safe. 

     “What are you doing ?” He barely made out Grian’s words. “Let me fix him, dammit!”

     “He isn’t broken ,” Zoom said, and he couldn’t tell if his voice was actually booming, or if that was simply how warped his reality was. Rusty’s hand tightened ever so slightly. Grian twitched, a worrying picture coming across his face. He tried to respond, but despite how red his cheeks grew, his mouth only opened and closed like a fish. His voice fizzled out, drying up. Distrusting, he glared at Rusty. There was an accusation written in his face that he literally couldn’t speak aloud. Zoom paid no mind and turned to face Rusty.

     In the short time that he had looked away, Rusty’s face had continued to melt. Underneath, the expression remained neutral, but the dripping silicone gave off the image of tears. His eyes locked onto Rusty’s, incapable of being torn away. The edges of the lenses were… fuzzy, like Zoom’s vision was blurring. It gave him a headache but he couldn’t stop focusing on it. The red light in the center seemed infinitely brighter than what should have been possible, burning into his mind. He winced.

     “Rusty,” he whispered, “it’s okay. Listen to me,” with only slight pain, he raised his hand and set it onto Rusty’s now almost entirely metal cheek. It simmered upon contact but didn’t burn. The last bits of his synthetic skin pooled in between Zoom’s fingers. His mouth had latched closed, the clanks resonating from within muffled. “I’m not… letting him in. I just need him to help you. If you’re okay with that… I promise that’s all.”

     Rusty’s lenses searched Zoom’s eyes. They shifted in their classic calculation, before he slowly quieted and inched his lips apart. 

     “Promise?”

     “Of course,” Zoom said so soft that, even in the fresh silence, he doubted anyone but himself heard. Rusty picked up on it anyway. He nodded and drifted closer to Zoom once more. It was welcome now that he wasn’t a legitimate fire hazard. Zoom turned back to face Grian, still holding his silicone-covered hand in the air. Grian was giving the two of them what must have been the most puzzled expression Zoom had ever seen on a man. He rubbed his throat, swallowing at the apparent return of his vocal chords. Zoom didn’t offer any sympathy to the sight.

     “Fine. Do whatever repairs you need.”

     After almost twenty four hours of constant vigilance, Zoom was getting real tired of looking at Grian. The windows gradually filled with the grey light of the early morning, and he stifled a yawn. Back where he had found them just under a day ago, Grian had Rusty set up on the living room floor. His supplies were spread across the coffee table and the rug. Even turned away from the two of them, Rusty’s face had resumed solidity and was pleasantly back to its usual seamless and cutesy facade. To quell his nerves and boredom, he was hunched over a drawing, diligently holding position with the back of his neck popped open. He was in his own world-- Grian had happened to pack his colored pencils, just in case. He revelled in the return of bright colors.

     “Well, this is the most sensitive spot,” Grian explained, as per Zoom’s demand, “where the most vital wires connect. Stuff like the charger, y’know.” Zoom simply grunted, arms crossed and towering above him. “The battery’s right behind here too, a little farther in. When it completely dies, it starts to… uh, how do I explain this…” He paused for a few moments, the only sound filling the room being the sketching of Rusty’s pencil. Impatient, Zoom nudged him with his boot. “Uh, uh, it’s like… it corrodes. It tries to eat more fuel but when there’s nothing… And it’s really close to all of this other important stuff, it’s usually a pretty big deal when it corrodes nearby things… How long did you say he was out?” It took Zoom a second to realise the mini-ramble had come to its end. He paused and did some quick math.

     “Twelve hours? Give or take?” 

     Grian sighed.

     “Well, it’s been worse.” Zoom hovered over his shoulder as Grian carefully peered into the port, hands executing each movement with precision. A quick screw undone here, a thin tool repositioning a component there, and he eventually dug deep enough to reach a dimly glowing box. It was only about an inch in, but the obstacles beforehand were so many and tiny that Zoom almost had a hard time focusing on them. “See that?” Grian asked, pointing with the same small tool.

     “What… am I looking for?” 

     “ That ,” he lightly tapped on a darker spot, and Zoom squinted. He would never have spotted it on his own but, sure enough, there was what appeared to be a… blue crust? 

     “What is that?” He said, panic for Rusty’s health lacing his words.

     “ That is battery corrosion! If it gets onto any of these other circuits, it’ll cause memory problems, physical dysfunctions, slow processing capabilities, instability in… other areas,” at this, Zoom nervously glanced down at the scattered drops of face that still littered the floor, “and even more!” Grian finished, mock-cheerfully. He reached down, still pulling the port open to display the battery, and grabbed a small vial. 

     “And what is that ?” Zoom asked, harsher this time. Grian tried to hold his hands up in mock surrender, but the motion was rendered useless since he could neither open his hands, nor remove the one from the back of Rusty’s neck. 

     “Relax, dude! It’s just a vinegar solution. I need it to wash away the corrosion.” Zoom stayed silent. “Here, if you want proof, smell it.” He raised it slightly, aiming for a nose. From behind his very solid visor and entire helmet, Zoom raised an eyebrow. Grian faltered. “Ah, well, what-- whatever. Just believe me. You don’t happen to have something, uh, small and soft, do you?”

     With a thin rag draped over a pencil tip, Grian applied some of the vial’s liquid and worked miniscule circles into the thickest of the problem spots. Zoom couldn’t see through his hand, but whenever he retracted his makeshift tool to clean the rust from the rag, he peeked in. Gradually, the metal began to clear, looking even brighter than the rest. Throughout the process, he kept a watchful eye on Rusty as well, who seemed unaffected. His focus was characteristically locked onto the paper in front of him. As Grian prepared to return after about the fifth pull-back, Zoom lifted his hand. 

     “Wait a second… let me… let me try?” Grian scoffed.

     “You want to do this?”

     “Yes,” Zoom huffed. “Let me.” A moment’s shrug later and Grian was delicately passing the rag-pencil over. He switched hands to hold the wires in place while giving Zoom space to see. 

     “Now, now, be very gentle…” Grian coaxed, catching Zoom’s attention. He gave the other an odd look, a little more than mildly taken aback at the genuine tenderness. Grian either didn’t care or didn’t catch it as hesitantly moved to guide Zoom’s hand. He was met with a wary glare and paused, resorting to pointing instead of touching. “Tiny circles, like you’re brushing your teeth. Make sure not to bump the other stuff…” 

     Zoom slowly reached in, following his instructions and heading for the edges of a crusty area. The second he made contact, Rusty let out a soft whirr. 

     “Wh-- is everything okay?” Zoom held position, not daring to move a muscle until he got the approval of Rusty. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

     “No. Just noticing.”

     “Noticing that it’s me? How’d you tell?”

     “Heard you talking, dummy.”

     Zoom snorted. Grian watched the exchange silently.

     More confidently, Zoom pressed the rag against the innards of Rusty’s battery, scraping at the blue gunk. Grian pushed his face closer to examine and supervise the process. Without much thought, he nodded. Sure, it was an easy task, but he felt obligated to meticulously observe. It proved a solid plan when thirty seconds later he grew concerned about the spreading of the dirt, as opposed to cleaning it off. He shifted to better reach towards Zoom.

     “Here, here, you’re--” his worry spiked and he made a grab for the tool, “you’re just--” 

     “Hey, quit!” Zoom began to protest, but he was cut off by the simultaneous touch of Grian’s hand on his own and the alarmed beep from beside the both of them. Grian disconnected in a flash, trying in vain to still his other fragile hand’s placement. Rusty lurched forward, a slight crackle coming from either his neck or his mouth-- neither could tell. Zoom dropped the tool, cringing as it brushed against the hardware and clattered to the floor. In a matter of seconds he was at Rusty’s side, arms extended and nervous. A few of Rusty’s pencils rolled off the coffee table and landed near the rag. Grian traced their movement with his eyes in a state of shock.

     “Shit, shit,” Zoom fretted under his breath. Grian sat a foot away, motionless. To Zoom’s immediate relief, Rusty pulled himself back up and cautiously rubbed his neck. 

     “Ow,” he said simply, half glitched and half giggling. 

     “Are you… are you like, okay?” Rusty nodded and Grian numbly watched as it dislodged a few cables in the port. He couldn’t see the robot’s expression, but he could see that it was turned upwards to face the other’s head-on. 

     “Yes! Only startled.”

     Distantly, he saw in his peripheral vision that both had turned towards him. He wished, somewhere in him, that both looked just as angry as the man approaching him. 

     “ What the hell ? Why the hell did you do that? You could have hurt him!”

     “Hurt him…” Grian mumbled, not bothering to look up at him. 

     “What-- yes , you moron, hurt him!” His voice raised in calibre with every word.

     “Hurt him,” Grian repeated, not any louder physically, but loud enough to make Zoom halt. Before he could formulate why, let alone what to say, Grian’s face folded. It wasn’t pretty with his bloodshot eye and blue-green cheek. “Hurting him?”

     He glanced down at Rusty at a loss for what to do. Rusty didn’t reciprocate, but he did appear just as gobsmacked.

     “Stop,” Rusty said blankly. It came out cold in his surprise, and Grian only worsened. He raised a hand to cover part of his face.

     “Sorry, I-- I shouldn’t be the one--” he broke off, unsure of how to continue. 

     “Stop, stop crying. No crying. Don’t do that.”

     “I’m-- I’m trying ,” he strained. Rusty shifted to turn his entire body towards Grian. He lifted his hands up in an awkward placating stance.

     “Don’t like seeing you distressed. Need to fix it.”

     “No, you, you don’t need to…”

     “Yes. No crying, Grian. Stop.” He paused and made a quiet hum. “Please.”

     And at that, Grian did the exact opposite. He tried to speak but every sound dissolved into incoherent noises. Rusty inched closer, and Grian latched onto him like a lifeline. His face pressed onto Rusty’s shoulder in the stiff position, hiding it away from Zoom’s gaze. Eventually, after many heavy breaths, he forced out two words.

     “I’m sorry .”

     Watching Rusty focus and unfocus his lenses on Grian’s shaking form in concern and listening to him softly coo the same way he had just the night before for him , Zoom wondered truly, deeply, what the fuck was going on. How had he gone from fearing this man, to hating him, fearing him again, to confusion, confusion, confusion? This entire time, he thought Rusty was on the same page, or at least not on whatever chapter he was showing right now. He felt the familiar greed for answers to everything-- to Grian, to Rusty, to Grian and Rusty. He leaned back in resignment against the armchair and wrapped his arms around his legs. There was nothing else for him to do, nowhere else for him to put himself, as he watched this unfold. His own sleep deprivation adding to the surreality. Yes, he could play the waiting game, but when just one day was all of this, for how long?

Chapter Text

     Grian blankly stared straight forward at the mantle. Pinned in various spots were pages, a collection of both messy and sketchy drawings coating them. They were either in pen or pencil, but were distinctly done by different people. A few, falling into the more "sketchy" category, were unfamiliar to him. They were technically advanced, and showed stronger control. Wire figures of NPC Grian in various settings, still lifes of tulips and-- was that a pile of blankets or something? They were all in pencil, excluding one pen image of NPC's face, gazing at the viewer with more light in his eyes than Grian had ever seen. Or, at least, ever noticed. His stomach turned in deep discomfort at the thought. 

     He averted his attention to the others. Nearly double the amount of the first artist's drawings were clearly NPC's. Grian would recognise them anywhere, regardless of the lack of color. They were less strict than what he presumed were Evil Xisuma's. The lines were sprawling, and almost none were in pencil. Replacing where the pencil would break when NPC would press too hard on accident, were pools of ink. The drawings themselves showed many scenes. There were quite a few of the cottage he was currently in, countless details painted in the stones of the base layer and the delicate garden. In fact, there were so many intricacies, every page felt busy and excited. It was as if he simply couldn't bear to leave out anything. Grian was only able to distinguish everything at a glance from his experience with NPC’s art-- sure, usually there was color to help, but that didn't matter. The lines spoke loud enough. 

     The one image that caught his eye was centered almost perfectly upon the fireplace, propped up against the brown brickwork. Two people stood side by side. There was more consideration into the appearance than Grian was used to. Usually, Rusty's pictures rarely showed much effort in the people. If he drew himself or Grian, it seemed almost as a last minute decision when compared to the rustic houses. The one he was looking at now featured someone who could only have been Evil Xisuma. It was surprisingly accurate, tiny workings of the helmet all included. Beside him was NPC's typical Grian look-alike representation of himself. Their arms overlapped each other, undoubtedly to show that their hands were joined. 

      The only thing he could feel was the lump in his throat as he reached into his inventory. Shaking fingers grasped a thin paper. Distantly, he registered curious eyes peering over his shoulder, but he paid no mind. 

     Against the drawing of NPC and Evil Xisuma, the older drawing of Grian and NPC seemed unenthusiastic. The one in Grian's white-knuckled fist was colorful and bright, sure, but it felt… sloppy. Undeniably, Evil X must've shown NPC some tips, but it went beyond that. The old one wasn't devoid of love, but it paled in comparison. It was quick. It was to pass the time. The addition of the figures was, as it often was, an afterthought. Grian was an afterthought.

     In the new one, Evil X was the first thought. He was the focus. Their hands held together were the focus. Their house that they apparently lived in with each other was the focus. NPC put so much into every aspect, and every aspect reeked of Evil X. 

     “You… brought that with you?” The man of Grian’s focus spoke from behind him. He almost jumped as he turned to find Ex standing only a few feet away. His arms were crossed. It was hard to tell whether the look in his eyes was suspicion or exhaustion, or possibly a mix of both. The noon daylight filtered in against Ex’s back, casting shadow over his helmet’s visor and further obscuring the expression on his face. 

     “Oh, uh, yes… ?”

     “But why ?” Ex sounded practically eager.

     “... As a precaution.” There was a beat of silence, which Grian took as a cue to explain more. “Uh, as I mentioned, NPC’s battery has a tendency to affect things-- his memory, namely. Kind of a bad design, actually, putting that in such a, uh, busy spot…” The robot in question whirred quietly for some reason at that from where he was sat at the kitchen counter. Grian ignored it. “So, anyway, I have it just in case I have to use something that serves as a memory-jogger. Or something of that sort.”

       He glanced up from where he had been looking aside, a habit he’d mysteriously developed when in the company of Ex. He regretted it a little when Ex’s face shifted from the ambiguous expression to one of clear annoyance. 

     “Oh, so they’re just tools to you?” Grian couldn’t see his mouth through the mask, but it looked like Ex wanted to say more. 

     “I…” He started, at a loss for words. Or thoughts. His mind felt rather slow lately. “I guess you could say that… what else…?” He looked down at the paper still in his hands. Somehow he'd dug himself yet another hole with these two but he couldn't quite figure out how. He looked up and over to NPC, who wore a distressed expression. “What?”

      “What do you mean-- god , you’re always--” Ex butt in, practically growling. His hands clawed at the air as he spoke. Grian’s still bruised cheek stung at just the sight of his swinging fists. “Stop being so clueless !”

     “What?” Grian repeated an octave higher. “How am I clueless? You’re the one asking weird questions, being all nosey, inserting yourself into--”

     “Into what? Into your life? Your business? Rusty is more than just your business, and more than just something you can-- er, can use his stuff, as if it’s just a tool!”

     “What the hell is ‘Rusty?’ Are you not satisfied with stealing him? You have to go and change his name now too?” There was some movement and some noise from Grian’s left but he didn’t bother to look over at NPC.

     “I didn’t steal anything! He decided to come, just as he decided to let me call him that, just as he decided to give you his art that you care nothing for!” Ex’s voice grated through the speakers as it raised. “You just use it as if its nothing more than a tool to fix your goddamn toy!” Before Grian had even registered, Ex was close again, still making aimless gestures towards his helmet as if he wanted to pull out his own hair. “You don’t deserve this,” Ex snarled in a low voice. He made a grab for the paper still clutched in Grian’s fist. 

     “No! I need it!” He squealed. He tugged it closer to his chest and tried to step backwards, the mantle’s rough texture pressing the back of his neck. His wings flapped instinctively, brushing dangerously close to the crackling fireplace. The flames flickered in the wind. Ex clawed at his chest and hands, making purchase with the corner of the paper. Grian cried out again as he let Ex pull, desperately trying to combat the drawing being taken from him while avoiding damaging it in the process. “ Stop! Stop it! Get-- away!”

         Right as the final syllable left his mouth, one long tear filled the cabin. Finally, NPC’s movements were impossible to ignore as he let out a long, ear-shattering alarm. It stuttered out as the pieces fluttered from both Ex and Grian’s hands. They gently floated to the floor in a dance as the three stared on in horror. 

     NPC was on the ground in seconds. Neither Ex nor Grian dared to move a muscle. As discordant whirrs echoed and hitched out of him, Ex whispered, “I-- I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean--”

     “Shut up!” NPC screamed, not moving his head away from the paper bits. The sound warped and fluctuated in the air, but it didn’t hold the same strength Grian knew would come with genuine anger.

     “What…?” Ex asked, even more hushed.

     “Shut! Up! ” NPC screamed again, the tone an exact carbon copy of his previous one, but now splitting at the edges. “Zoom-- Zoom,” he sputtered out, as he often did when overheated, and Grian worried, “ talking too much!”  

     “I…” Ex started again, but NPC slammed on the wood floor with two fists.

     “‘He decided to come,’” Grian could instantly recognise that NPC’s speech was mimicking Ex’s words just seconds before, “‘just as he decided to let me call him that, just as he decided to give you his art that you care nothing for!’ Zoom just talks and talks and talks! And talks-- talks-- talks--” he cut out, scrubbing at his face. Grian wasn’t sure, but with all the cutting and stuttering, he would have to double-check NPC’s battery port again. At least, that’s what he told himself. He swallowed thickly and tried not to dwell on his other suspicion, the fog of guilt slowly setting in his chest. “You say decide! And decide! You say what I decide! Let me say it! Let me say it!”

     “But… I wasn’t wrong?” Ex said in a meek voice, “You did want to come, right…?”

     “Yes!” NPC smacked the floor again. “But let me say it! I decide what I decide! I can speak for myself! You were incorrect as well! Grian does not care nothing for them! Grian does not care nothing for me !” With that, he turned his face up. Again it dripped, but not in anger. His skin stayed smooth save for the despair in his expression. His eyes leaked hotly, the perfect painted blushes on his cheeks marred by the tears. 

     "But he doesn't, he locked you up, he--"

     "Well of course I care ! I just… I just didn't know! I didn't know!" Grian spoke for the first time since the paper had torn. He could see even despite the helmet that Ex's mouth had opened in disbelief and anger, on the verge of yelling something back, but NPC cut him off before he could.

     "Didn't know what?" And the words didn’t sound emotional but they were loud . Grian squirmed and looked from the ripped drawing, the two smiling figures crudely split in half, to the slight indents in the wooden floor from NPC's fists. Then his eyes landed on NPC's face. It was almost as torn as the paper. 

     "I didn't know you could feel."

     NPC stared up at him. He could feel Ex’s eyes on him from his other side. 

     “I’m sorry.”

     “I know,” NPC said, returning to his standard volume. Grian bit his tongue to keep himself from asking whether NPC knew Grian didn’t know or if he knew that Grian was sorry. Any answer other than “both” made his chest ache. 

     “I’m sorry,” he said again. NPC looked down, his shoulders slumping and dipping with his head. He brushed the two pieces of the drawing together with half-hearted movements. Grian gently got to his knees and sat in front on him. His hand hovered and hesitated as he peered down at the paper. The sweet smiles on drawing-Grian and NPC’s faces only rubbed salt in the wound. A sickly anger suddenly sparked in the back of his mind and his wings puffed involuntarily. He craned his head upwards to gaze at Ex. “Why? Why did you do that?”

     “I-- I,” Ex stammered, still shocked into silence from NPC’s outburst, “I thought… I thought you were using it for-- using him like you didn’t… care?” His tone lifted in uncertainty towards the end. Grian eyed him for a few seconds’ time, hummed, and ducked his head down. 

     “I think I was too,” he said. The innocent eyes of his drawn self looked back up at him. After a moment of silence he turned to face Ex once more. “You clearly care a lot about him.” Ex’s hand raised to the back of his neck, and he grew even more fidgety than he had been already. Whether it was from the words themselves or the almost-bitter tone that carried them, Grian couldn’t be sure.

     “Well. I mean-- he did build me a house… kinda obligated, aren’t I?” Grian rolled his eyes.

     “Sure,” Grian said with minimal sincerity, “you’re just repaying him. That’s all. Of course.” He side-eyed Ex, and NPC snorted. Both Grian and Ex halted to stare at him.

     “What’re you laughing at?” Ex exclaimed.

     “Zoom is a good friend,” NPC faced Grian, pretending not to notice Ex wave his arms in frustration. “He draws with me. And he is nice to me.”
    “... ‘Zoom?’” Grian furrowed his brows.

     “Yes! Zoom!” NPC made a buzz from deep in his voicebox, the vibrating metal creating a distinctive “zoom.”

     “Ah. I understand,” he did not look like he understood. “Oh! Oh wait! ‘Zoom’... ‘Xi suma ’... interesting. And he, uh… he apparently calls you ‘Rusty?’”

     “Yes!” 

     “Uh… Yeah, I don’t get it. Is it just ‘cause you’re, like, part robot?”

     “Well, that, and the whole rustic house business,” Ex said with some resignation as he joined them on the floor. His clunky leg armor scraped against the floor’s wooden planks. Even meeting them at their level, he still towered above Grian and NPC.

     “Huh. Well. It’s cute that you two have little nicknames for each other, I guess.” Ex looked away and shifted. “... What?”

     “It’s… Wh-- I-- they’re not just… nicknames? I don’t know. I mean, not for me, at least, they’re more, ah,” Ex continued to butcher his way through the sentence. “Gah! I don’t know! I can’t explain it!”

     “They hold more weight than simply ‘nick names,’ as we both share the ownership of a name that is nothing more than a modification of another’s,” NPC said concisely. The other two stared blankly at him. Grian was trying to process the implications of what was just said. Ex was seemingly trying to process what was said at all. 

     “You don’t… like ‘NPC Grian?’” Grian asked, only mildly dejected.

     “No.”

     “But… that’s my name! You’ve got my branding!” He spread his arms apart like he was presenting something grand. 

     “Exactly! That’s the problem !” Ex had abandoned dissecting NPC’s words, instead giving Grian a familiar harsh look. He then leaned back and glanced at NPC. “Sorry-- sorry, I, uh, I’ll let you… speak.” NPC gazed for a split second before giving an approving nod. Then he turned back to Grian.

     “Exactly. That’s the problem.” Grian gave him a look . “It is your name. Not,” he paused, “my own.” Grian frowned and pointedly put on a show of trying and failing to calculate. A moment later, he turned more somber and realisation dawned on his face. Then it sunk to something darker, and he looked to the side in shame.

     “Oh. I’m sorry.” NPC hummed. “Would you… like another name? I can… do that… It’s the least I can do--”

     “No it isn’t!” Ex cut in. He then whipped his head around to NPC, his shoulders jumping up and holding his hands up apologetically. 

     “Go ahead,” NPC said to him, and jerked a hand in Grian’s direction. Ex’s eyes lit up with a renewed vigor and he whirled back onto Grian.

     “No! It isn’t! He has a name! It’s ‘Rusty’ and you know that! He doesn’t need you to do anything else!” Grian simply stared, a deer in headlights.

     “O--okay.”

     “And you dare to-- wait. You said ‘okay?’”

     “Uh… yeah. I mean. That’s… well, the least I can do,” Grian turned to NPC, “Rusty.” He held a strained expression, like he had swallowed a lemon. An unsure but encouraging smile twitched on his face. Then he tore his eyes away from Rusty , and moved to Ex. “I guess that also would apply to you… Zoom?” Ex blinked at him. Without responding, he fully moved to face Rusty and the two locked eyes to share a silent conversation. Meanwhile, Grian sat tensely, and hoped that neither would catch wind of just how out of his depth he was.

     “Aight,” Zoom turned back and said at last. Grian sweat for a few seconds.

     “A… aight?” Zoom nodded his head a single time. 

     “Aight.”

     “Well what on Earth does that mean?” He asked, only silently dreading the answer. 

     “It means aight, idiot.” He hopelessly looked to Rusty. He deliberately avoided Grian’s gaze. He may not have been the best in reading his robot-- or rather, in reading Rusty , let alone Zoom with that blasted helmet, but he thought that maybe the two were enjoying this. Zoom’s shoulders were less tense than he had known possible. He assumed they were stuck practically hanging from his ears. Rusty wore what he suspected may have been a genuine smile. It was hard to tell the difference from his typical customer-service programmed grin, but Grian supposed that maybe there was more to it than just code. Maybe there was a lot more to him than just code. He hid the way he wanted to hug himself, not wanting to show anything vaguely guilt-ridden to ruin the lighthearted mood. It wasn’t exactly his place to be comforted once more. 

     In the meantime, he tried his best to simply study and understand the dynamic between the two as they chattered. If it taught him more about his… Rusty , then maybe it was his turn to shut up and listen.

     In the light of the midday without the stress and anger of his “property” being stolen and subsequently broken, the trip to Rusty and Zoom’s cottage was pleasant. If anything, it was uneventful. The landscape was all rolling hills and untouched forests. Despite the disarming journey, Grian had to remain alert. The destination was so neatly tucked away within the nature that it could have been missed with the blink of an eye. Even a lazy trail of smoke pumping from their chimney did little to aid in the search.

     Luckily, he managed to locate the abode in under two hours-- not including the Nether trip. His wings were aching with each flap, but he’d rather die than make the trek on foot. He slowed to a landing and gently touched down in the valley. While his mind was far from clear, he paused for a moment to actually take in the scene. He had dismissed this one as just another meaningless rustic houses in his original search and finding of it. Back then, it had been seemingly vacant, but now he could see the foreshadowing. The random collection of items within. Blankets and coats. Evidence of life, however modest. He brushed it off, though; hindsight’s always 20/20. 

     The second encounter with this house had less of an excuse. By that point it was undeniably different than the others, but in the moment, he still paid it no consideration. Maybe it was just because of the excitement. That’s what Grian would have liked to believe. He was too preoccupied to notice all the details, the care, the love poured into it. It definitely wasn’t that it hadn’t occurred to him that NPC Grian-- or Rusty-- wasn’t capable of genuine expression in his builds. If Grian spent countless moments soaking in Rusty’s gifts of art, tracing with his eyes the subtle differences and features included in each one, filled with a number of indescribable emotions, then surely he could imagine that the same artful influence was present in Rusty’s houses. Of course. 

     Still, he found himself admiring the intricate care into the wood and trimming. The door held an engraved centerpiece of some sorts. Rusty had even put focus into terraforming! That was new. Then again, as he took his time walking up the little path and admiring the flowerbeds and gardens, he pondered if it was a coincidence that the house he shared with Zoom suddenly had this new addition. He snickered at the thought-- who knew, maybe Zoom enjoyed gardening!

     As he reached the spruce door, his attention turned away from the land around him. Instead, he looked down at the box he had been toting along, filling his arms. Within he knew to be the contents of Rusty’s charger, as well as a few other vital wires and tools. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek. He kept his gaze down as he moved the box to rest on his hip, and then still as he shifted his weight from side to side. 

     It wasn’t that he was debating keeping the box to himself. Rusty needed these supplies. It wouldn’t be right to hold onto them. The thing was… he wanted to hold onto Rusty. His chest squeezed in shame as he instantly berated himself for being greedy. It was more than obvious now, much later than it should have been, that Rusty was his own… being. And people deserved space. Growing tired of the heavy thing, Grian placed it on the ground. Gently, he turned and leaned his back against the front door. He just needed a moment to compose himself before confronting them, and to finally make up his mind. He only hoped that neither of them would suddenly try to go outside. Then he’d owe yet another embarrassing explanation.

     From right against the door, he listened. Birdsong filtered through the air. He tried to calm himself via the almost inaudible trickle of a stream further in the valley. His attempts were interrupted by a burst of laughter from the opposite side of the door. 

     Through the thick wood, he couldn’t make out any words, but the residents both grew in volume. He hadn’t even been aware that Rusty and Zoom were so close by. The only thing separating him and facing them was the wall that Rusty had built. 

     Again, laughter rang out, but he was surprised to realise that the metallic voice was not Zoom. It took a moment for him to place it without the helmet, but that laughter couldn’t come from anyone other than Xisuma’s twin. He found that he was eavesdropping even closer, trying and eventually succeeding at placing Rusty’s gentle laughter. It was a whirring-type sound. Grian was struck with a wave of fondness as he had the thought that it sounded similar to his own chuckles. 

     He looked back at the box on the ground at his feet. Thick molasses ran through his throat, but he knew what he was going to do now. The plan may have changed, but it may have changed for the better. As he backed away from the door and the box, he wondered if the two of them would have been as uncomfortable as him with the conversation that would come with handing it over. Either way, it was best if he gave Rusty his space. Rusty and Zoom. He’d done plenty of harm already, and though they seemed to be on the road to happier times, it did nothing to warm the cold spot in his gut. He distanced himself so that they couldn’t hear his wings take off.

     It wasn’t as if he was completely losing Rusty either, right? Even if there was irreparable damage… he still had Rusty’s drawings and Rusty’s room to come home to. As his eyes stung from more than just the wind, he fought the desire to reach into his inventory and find comfort in Rusty’s portrait of the two of them. Even if he hadn’t already ruined it, it would have been a bad idea to pull out a paper while flying. He knew all too well that not being careful enough with what he loved would just lose it.