Chapter Text
Scar and Xisuma had told Grian to take as much time as he needed. They said they would be with him every step of the way no matter how long they had to wait.
It still took longer than Grian would have liked.
And he wasn’t even sure why. He should be over it by now. It had been years since anything had happened, since he had had a single reason to dwell on high school or Evo. And yet it always popped into his mind, always haunted him in his dreams.
He took a breath, recentering himself. He was sitting with X and Scar, all of them crammed into his living room, nursing cups of tea in their hands. He took a sip. Another breath.
“How much of the letter did you read, Scar?” Grian asked finally, his voice soft.
“Up until the part where you- where you, uh, talked about how you felt guilty. And how you needed everything to stop.” He turned to X, who shook his head.
“I didn’t read any of mine.” Grian sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair.
“Okay, then.” A pause. “Um, I guess I’ll start with the thing that’s… easier to explain.” He took another sip of his tea, letting his gaze fall into his mug. “Can you- what do you know about the Watchers, Scar? I- I know you follow Them, X.”
Scar blinked in surprise, “Oh. Um, I know that- that They- that some people regard Them as… gods,” he started carefully, as if waiting to see if he was correct. Grian gestured for him to continue. “They are powerful beings, more powerful than admins on their own server. I- to my knowledge They don’t often interact with players, however there are some people who claim They have.” He paused, his hands fidgeting awkwardly. “That’s- that’s all I know, I think.”
Grian nodded, before looking at Xisuma, a silent invitation for him to fill in the gaps. He did.
“It’s- it’s true that the nature of the Watchers is widely debated, from what They look like to how They act. They- some believe that They don’t exist at all, or that They are malevolent. I think it just depends on the person, how they grew up.” Xisuma paused, as if hesitating. “I… it’s common for people who follow the Watchers to… choose a patron. Sometimes people just follow whoever they were taught to follow, and some choose when they get older based on their own beliefs and values.”
Scar tilted his head, “Who-” A pause. A glance to make sure it was okay. “Who’s your patron, X?”
“There’s many names for him,” Grian interrupted, forcing himself to engage in the conversation. “I- people’s opinions on him are mixed. Honestly I think he’s one of the main reasons that people have such different views on the Watchers as a whole.” Xisuma nodded in agreement.
“He’s often called The Runaway, though his official name is Xelqua.” Grian pointedly ignored the power that flowed through his veins at the mention of his name, forcing himself to focus. “He- the people that follow him often have different reasons, but I always thought of him as… someone protective. Someone willing to do whatever it took to protect who he cared about. Someone who stands firmly in his beliefs no matter what the people around him are saying.”
And— wow. Grian didn’t know how to react to that. He had known Xisuma followed him, had heard the prayers that were occasionally sent his way. But… it was different, he supposed, to hear it outloud. He wiped furiously at his eyes, and he could feel Xisuma’s and Scar’s gazes turn to him in confusion and concern. He took a breath.
“I- yeah. Yeah, you’re right about most of that, X. He ran away from the Watchers. It- it’s not something that They really advertise. Uh, one of the many things, really. But-” Grian took a breath. Was he really doing this? “But one of the biggest is that… Watchers aren’t born. Not in the traditional way, at least. Not for a long time.” He paused, collecting himself. “They- They took players. They made them into one of Them. Once- once that happens they just… slowly forget everything from Before. To them they’ve just… always been a Watcher.” A slow, shaky breath. “It was like they had never been a player at all.”
-
Xisuma stiffened, a sick sense of understanding washing over him as the pieces connected in his mind. ‘They made me one of Them, and it hurts.’ He had always known that the Watchers could be sick, that they had a twisted sense of right and wrong. But… he didn’t know what to think anymore.
“You’re Xelqua.” Two simple words. Xisuma didn’t even register he had spoken until they had already left his throat. But he saw it in the way Grian stiffened, in the way that he forced himself to meet his gaze.
“I never wanted to be.” Grian’s voice sounded broken, resigned. Xisuma inhaled slowly, letting the information sink into his mind.
“You said that after a player becomes a Watcher they forget everything from before?” Grian nodded. “So…”
“Why didn’t I forget?”
“Yeah.”
“I… I’ve always been stubborn.” He let out a wet laugh at that. “Honestly I have no idea why they chose me. To my understanding They normally choose players who have nothing left to lose. Who were followers, willing to do whatever they were told.” A pause. “I… wasn’t that. Not even close. In fact I did pretty much everything opposite of what they told me.” He chuckled ruefully. “I think the only reason I didn’t forget was pure stubbornness. I didn’t want to give them what They wanted. I didn’t want to let them win. I guess that was probably what saved me in the end.”
There was silence after that, Scar and Xisuma processing what had just been said, Grian waiting anxiously for their reactions.
Then, “You set yourself to permadeath,” Scar stated slowly, green eyes meeting black. Grian nodded.
“I did.” There was a long pause. A breath. “I did.”
-
Grian moved like molasses for the rest of the day, brain and body stumbling over each other as he struggled to make sense of the thoughts swirling around his head. He had left out a lot of the story. Key parts, one might argue. But… he just couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.
It meant admitting things and accepting things and probably way too much talking. He didn’t mention high school, or the methods the Watchers used to ‘encourage’ him to forget. The words got stuck in his mouth, in his throat. Clogging up his airways like a stone resting where he swallows.
He wondered if it could choke him.
Scar was sitting across the room, sketching idly. It wasn’t hard to imagine what was going on inside his head. Grian could see it in the way his hands shook, the way his pencil almost broke from the pressure of his fingers. He had always worn his heart on his sleeve. Beating. Bloody. Broken.
Terrified. Maybe angry. Scar was justified in being both.
“What are you drawing?” The words slipped out before Grian could stop them. Scar glanced up in surprise.
“Honestly? I have no clue.” He held it up for him to see. It was a mess of lines and squiggles. Circles upon circles, swirls upon swirls. Grian smiled slightly, not quite reaching his eyes.
“Still looks cool.”
“Thanks.” They were both ignoring the ravager in the room. A whole raid, really. Scar was the watcher here, assigned to Grian to make sure he didn’t try anything.
To make sure he didn’t kill himself.
There. He said it. He closed his eyes.
He never liked being Watched.
-
It was hard to pretend everything was normal, Scar found. It was difficult to get up in the morning thinking about how if he had been a couple seconds later Grian could’ve di— He shook the thought off. Stop it, Scar. Be positive. He paused in his steps.
…Should he be happy? It certainly didn’t feel like he should. Not that he was, anyway. He was just… numb. That seemed like a good word. All encompassing, really.
He didn’t know what to feel so he didn’t feel anything at all.
Scar took a deep breath, forcing himself to sit down on the tree that he was halfway through cutting down. Was it selfish to wish he had gotten a bit more time to just process this all? To figure himself out before jumping right back into everything?
He and Xisuma were still taking shifts. Switching who was with Grian to make sure he was okay. (To make sure he ate, and drank, and walked around. To make sure he talked to someone and slept at least a little.) Scar would be there in a heartbeat if he was needed. Always. No matter the hour, or what he was doing.
He cared about Grian. It wasn’t like he didn’t. But… he was human too (not actually, but close enough). He couldn’t be everywhere at once. Even if he tried.
-
Xisuma probably hadn’t slept for a couple days when Keralis staged an intervention. It had probably been necessary, if X was honest with himself. He just… couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep because what if something like that happened again and he didn't respond in time. What if he was too late?
That night he had almost lost Grian forever. A thought foreign and strange. A terrifying realization that gripped at his heart and tore at his brain.
He took a shaky breath. Another.
He was fine. Hermitcraft was fine. Everything was fine.