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The lights hung up along the path glowed against Fundy's fur, bright with hope, like he once did. As he tiptoed across the wooden planks, wary to step on planks that creaked when stepped on. He could still feel the sting of ash and blood on his fur and his jacket even though the war was long over, the stench never quite leaving him. (He’s floating isn’t he, the sword is still through his chest, what happened? He should have been safe)
He was fine, he could say. (Lierlierlierlier) His nightmares never left him choking on dead air like Tommy's did, never left the faint ache of scars across the body like Tubbo's did, and they never made him run across roofs just to confirm not another member of his family was dead, like Phil's did, no.
They made him watch instead, watch as the pastel of his uniform darkened with his own blood as his own godfather took on the mantle of "traitor", watch as his grandfather stabbed a sword into his father, and watch as the walls of the nation he was born in collapse by his own hand. He could scream all he wants, beg for time to turn back, convince them to change it, or let him say goodbye. It was all in his head, he could say, and no one would care. No one ever did.
As he walked down the path, he heard the hushed laughter of a person mixed in with the yips and yaps of a fox a little bit further.
He carefully walked closer, he could see it was Purpled sitting under a tree. He hadn’t seen Purpled since the war, both of them were shadows in their own country. The moonlight dimly glowed onto the boy's face, and Fundy could see he had shadows under his eyes and slight tear tracks that glimmered under the light.
Another casualty of the war that no one counted.
Purpled noticed Fundy from the corner of his eye, gestured for him to sit next to him. Fundy cautiously sat down, focusing on the fox running across the field joyfully.
“How do you handle being forgotten?”, Fundy says, the words come tumbling out of his mouth before he can take them back.
Purpled only raises an eyebrow, like he's been expecting the question. "Simple. I don't."
Before Fundy could sputter out another question, Purpled reached over to the sack next to him. He took out a journal, labeled "Drawings" and started flipping through it.
"Did you know I'm afraid of heights?" Purpled asked rhetorically. "I built the ufo as my own-self imposed prison, punishing myself for refusing to get into the war. For not helping." He stopped on a drawing of two people, one wearing a lime green hoodie, the other wearing a purple hoodie. The two were sleeping, the one in the purple hoodie resting his head on the other's shoulder.
I t must have been Dream and Purpled, back before wars racked the land.
Fundy didn't know what to say, he'd always thought Purpled was selfish, a stuck-up kid who thought himself to be higher than everyone else. He didn't realize they were so similar.
"I drew countless drawings in here, I was afraid soon I'd forget everything, I'd never remember what peace was like. They were all I had left."
(Fundy didn't draw, he wrote. He wrote down his past, the present, all down in a journal he's locked up. When he had nightmares, he scribbled down names and words that interconnected themselves with a thin line.)
Purpled bit his lip, trying to hold back his tears, "I learned quickly that I was going to be forgotten, a footnote on a page. I learned that I was a shadow, that my words were never going to be heard. And- I was angry. Angry, that I was cast aside for what? So I drew out the demons that haunted me, added red ink onto happy drawings."
(Oh. Is that called anger?)
"No one gave a shit, all I could hold onto was my drawings and my pets. The only one who really cared was Ponk, but we rarely saw each other. " Purpled continued, layering the words with hints of anger. It was obvious to the two of them that this conversation was a long time coming.
(Eret was the only one who cared for Fundy, coming over to his house sometimes, and asking about his sleeping habits. They're fine, thanks for asking. Yes the bags under my eyes are a style choice. But how much could he trust the person who has his blood on their hands)
"I could say all I want that I'm fine with being alone. But sometimes, I want someone to reach out and ask, someone to wonder if I'm okay." Purpled flips to a page full of words in the image of a ufo, he can't decipher the words but he can see "MONSTER" "CURSE" "WHY" among them.
( After the war, he receded into his house in the woods, only coming out to look at the progress of the country. His own grandfather looked at him with distaste, his own family barely glanced at him. He burns his old uniform to the ground, watching the pastel fabric rip apart, and he swears someone was watching him. His father haunts him, convinced he can bond with the son he left behind.)
"I've never handled being alone well, to answer your question..have you?" Purpled asked. They both knew the answer was no, and the question was left unanswered.
They sat in silence for a while, Purpled doodling something in his journal and Fundy watching the fox prance around the field chasing a firefly in the tall grass. The stars glimmered over the field with a bright taunting glow, as guitar chords drifted with the wind.
-
After a while, Fundy askes Purpled, “Where’s the fox from?”
Purpled looks up from the page he was doodling on, slightly smiles, and whispers, “I found him a ravine, tied up and forgotten.”
Niki’s gift from Antfrost. Oh. He forgot the fox.
Purpled clicks his tongue twice and the fox comes speeding towards him, and then proceeds to collapse in Purpled's lap, blocking Purpled’s access to his journal. Purpled picks up the fox and cradles the bundle of fur in his hands.
"I rescued him and fed him until he was back to full health." Purpled continued, gently scratching the fox's stomach.
Fundy looks at the fox, with his tongue sticking out happily.
"His name is Alfred by the way, and-” He hesitates a bit. “ I want you to have him."
(Does purpled know about the pet wars?)
Purpled notices Fundy's shock, and adds "I know your previous one died, and- at least with Alfred, you won't be so alone anymore. "
Fundy can feel tears dripping out of his eyes (No one’s been so kind) as Purpled carefully places the fox into his arms, the fox yips at their new owner, and giggles a bit at the matching faces, Purpled smiles a bit and says "Look! He likes you already."
Fundy whispers to him "Thank you, and- I'm sorry I judged you harshly before."
Purpled replies "Its fine, I would judge me like that too." with a small smile.
Fundy askes Purpled, "I don't think either of us are going to sleep tonight,- do you know anything about the stars? By any chance?"
"I do. why?"
Fundy looks back up at the sky, the stars not looking so taunting anymore,
"I've been curious."
The stars twinkle just a little bit brighter, as Purpled teaches Fundy what the constellations in the sky spell out, and they don't sleep that night, but it's one of the best they've had in a while. Not a nightmare insight.
-
When neither of them can sleep, they meet back up at the tree, and they continue the read the stars. They spell the stories of old, of Orion cast into the sky by the gods, of mortals whose live's were immortalized by gods who fancied them, of hero's whose hubris chained them down. Sometimes Purpled replaces complicated names with ones from the smp or stupid ones, when Fundy doesn't smile at all, just to make him smile even a bit. Sometimes Fundy teaches Purpled how to compose poems and haikus, use words to make pictures, and he'll write the stupidest writings if it means Purpled smiles that day.
-
During Dream and Fundy's marriage, Purpled leads the toast to the future, to the marriage. Alfred scampers around the venue, looking for fellow animals to interact with. Purpled hands the happy couple a picture of the two of them fighting back to back, which they accept happily, joking that he'll always be their little brother no matter what.
-
Purpled doesn't cry much, only when he lets people too far into his heart. One night, he finishes off his journal with a drawing of him and Fundy under the stars. Before he closes it, he takes out a red ink pen and scribbles Fundy out.
Only the living get their stories told. Dream once told him.