Work Text:
Grian notices something is up in the downtime between sessions. Joel and Jimmy have never been anything close to normal to live with, but after the last session, they've just been acting weird. Weirder than the usual unusualness of two cursed men and a Watcher living in an abandoned mansion.
Jimmy has been more twitchy than he normally is, all of his tics and jitters ramping up to eleven as he spends the days distancing himself from the other two members of their group, retreating into the unaffected rooms of the destroyed mansion and only emerging to get food. On the exact opposite end of the spectrum, he doesn't think he's gone for more than five minutes without seeing a flash of black and green hair out of the corner of his vision, or just blatantly positioned next to him (because subtlety is simply a foreign concept to Joel a good eighty percent of the time).
The only thing Grian can think to be the cause of this nonsense is that they were both freaked out by his Retreat; Jimmy found it unsettling (which is fair, considering his Nature) and is trying to keep his distance from Grian in case he falls under it again, and Joel is sticking around him in case he suddenly collapses and Joel has to carry him to safety. As uncharacteristic of Jimmy as it seems to actively avoid something that upsets him (he always seems dead-set on doing the exact opposite), it's the only explanation he can really muster up that makes any sort of sense.
But him having an explanation doesn't make anything less weird—it's been a full two days, only one day before the next session is to begin, and neither of his compatriots seem to be letting up on their...whatever this is. Joel still isn't letting him out of his sights, though he's at least trying to justify it with just wanting to hang out—which is nonsense, because just wanting to hang out doesn't mean literally watching Grian while he sleeps. And Jimmy has just seemed to get worse as time has gone by, to the point where he genuinely yelps whenever he accidentally crosses Grian's path and dissolves into a fit of ticcing that he refuses to let Grian address.
It's getting nightmarish, and he isn't going into the session like...this. Again, whatever this is.
He sits up in bed, not having gotten a wink of sleep despite it being close to one in the morning, the moon still very visibly high in the sky—the decision to sleep on the roof, completely exposed, was certainly a...decision. Whether it was a good one is up for debate, but at the very least, the natural moonlight makes it easier to see the shocked expression on Joel's face that quickly morphs into one of mild embarrassment and shame when Grian meets his eyes with a brow raised. The man is sitting on his end of the bed, a book in his lap and a blanket around his shoulders with no indication that he was ever planning to sleep.
Grian pinches the bridge of his nose, acutely aware of the wide space between them—Jimmy has taken to disappearing into the mansion to sleep instead of sleeping out there with the other two, leaving a cold gap between him and Joel that neither of them have made any move to fill.
"Joel," Grian says simply, quietly, as if anyone could hear them even if they started shouting from up here. "We need to talk."
Joel's expression doesn't move from one of surprise, per se, but it does take on a sheepish edge as he shrinks back a little bit, closing his book with his thumb between the pages. "Talk?" he says, voice wavering. "Talk about what?"
"You know what I mean, Joel," Grian says irritably, rubbing his eyes. "I can't sleep while you're watching me. Physically."
"Oh, crap," Joel says simply, properly closing his book (but not before dogearing the page he was on) and setting it down on the floor behind him. "I—I'm sorry, G, I didn't realise—"
"Don't," Grian says, holding a hand up to him. Channel above, Joel is apologising to him? What the hell has happened within the past week? Did he get hit in the head? Has smoke inhalation addled his brain? "We don't actually need to sleep. You know that. It's just a little freaky."
"Sorry," Joel repeats, pulling his blanket closer around his shoulders. He sags with tiredness—sure, they don't need to sleep, but exhaustion is still something that affects all of them pretty seriously, which leads most people to sleep at least every couple of days. Joel shouldn't be feeling exhausted—they're between sessions, there is literally nothing to be exhausted by, unless he's tiring himself out mentally or emotionally or...something. "Not very bad boy of me to watch my best friend sleep, is it?"
"I'd say it's pretty bad," Grian grumbles lightheartedly, but his regret is immediate when Joel's face falls and he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. Grian sighs inwardly, scooting forward into Jimmy's spot to be a little closer as he asks, "We seriously need to talk."
"We really don't," Joel replies, refusing to meet Grian's eyes.
Grian huffs. "Look, Joel, I don't want to pull this on you, because I genuinely just want to know what the matter is, but we can't go into the next session like...this. You've been hovering over me for the past two days and I don't know why. I don't even know if you know why. And having something hanging over us—literally—isn't going to help our chances when we go back into the game."
One of Joel's weird pseudo-antennae flicks downwards, signalling that he's mildly uncomfortable with the train of questioning. Grian's wings fluff up defensively in return, because he doesn't want to do this either, but he can literally feel it when there are eyes on him and they literally have not let up for forty-eight hours. Joel sounds uncertain when he says, "We're just hanging out, Grian, come on."
"If we were just hanging out, Joel, you wouldn't freak if I said that I wanted to be alone for the entirety of tomorrow." Grian winces at how Joel's eyes suddenly blow wide, green and reflecting in the light of the moon, brimming with panic already and he rushes to add, "Not that I'm saying that—Joel, come on."
Joel draws in a rattling breath, digging his nails into the mattress and blanket and saying, "Fine. I'm—I'm fine, G, just—I'm just looking out for you. Is that so bad?"
Grian drags his hands down his face. "It's not bad, no, but it's unsettling, and you're not getting enough rest by following me around and freaking out whenever I'm out of sight. I can fly, Joel, and you can't. You spent an hour yesterday trying to chase me down because I decided to fly over to find Scar instead of walk."
"You can't fly during the game," Joel says stubbornly, body still tense as he stares into Grian's chest. "I can still—I can still—"
Grian reaches out and rests a hand on Joel's upper arm, and for the first time in this conversation, Joel slowly meets his eyes. There aren't necessarily bags underneath Joel's, but he looks like he's been strung across live wire for the past several weeks despite this only having lasted for three days, maximum. He looks uncomfortable, ashamed, but he most of all looks afraid, which is what makes Grian's wings spread out behind him instinctively, as if he could somehow protect Joel from whatever is affecting him.
"Joel," Grian says seriously, not breaking eye contact with him, even as he squirms under Grian's gaze pinning him down. "You've got to tell me what's up. This is not an environment where we can hide things from each other, you know that."
Joel's antenna flicks again, and he says with no uncertainty spared, "Do I?"
For the record, it's weird—it's weird to see Joel, who hates drama and huge displays of any emotion aside from anger, look and sound so vulnerable. Grian worked with him before, all the way back in the beginning of Last Life, and he never in a trillion years would have pegged Joel to be the type to air out his emotions with any shred of vulnerability—it was clear to anyone with eyes and ears that a lot of his anger was just redirected despair, but it wasn't Grian's place to touch upon that if Joel wasn't intentionally showing it. He may technically be one of those ever-present, sadistic voyeurs, but he isn't an arse.
Grian shifts closer to Joel until their knees are touching, then asks, "What'd'y'mean?"
Joel glances off to the side, green eyes positively glowing, shaking with an effort to keep them away from Grian despite the avian making direct eye contact, practically kneading the bedsheets as he tries to grasp the words to explain how he's feeling. "I—look, Grian. What you did during the session? Just...disappearing like that? Into your brain or wherever your weird Watcher crap takes you? That was weird!" He wrings his hands and furrows his brows. "That was weird and really freaky, okay? Just—you turning into a Goddamn ragdoll that I'd have to babysit wasn't on my agenda for the day, I'll tell you that one."
Grian opens his mouth to speak, frowns, then tries to say something before getting cut off by Joel continuing quickly. "And I didn't even do it right. Like, you died. Twice. And—and somehow, I'm green and you and Timmy are both yellow, and you're both going to die before me if I don't do something about it and I can't—"
Joel's voice breaks, and he looks just as startled at it as Grian does, clearing his throat and pulling his brows further closer together. "It wouldn't be very bad boys of you to die before I do. And I can't be a member of the 'Bad Boys' if there's only one of us. You—I can't let this be 3rd Life and Last Life again, okay, I can't deal with ending up alone and off my bloody rockers again, so if I need to watch you and Timmy and make sure you don't keep dying all the time, that's fine." He stretches a grin onto his face, though it's wavering and twisted with his exhaustion. "It's pretty rad to protect my friends, yeah?"
Grian stares at him. He's sure his eyes are filled with something soft or whatever, but he tries to give Joel a deadpan stare—just to match his energy and his unwillingness to talk directly about what he feels. "Joel, you don't need to do that."
Joel scoffs. "I know, Grian. I'm just being a bad boy—"
"Joel," Grian chides, narrowing his eyes. Joel's gaze flicks to meet his properly again, and Grian tilts his head to the side. "I'm not an idiot. I get it. But you don't have to practically kill yourself over trying to make me and Tim last longer. Actually, I'm actively telling you not to do that. That's stupid."
"But—"
"Joel, we're not going to die if you go to sleep. And we're not gonna let you end up...like 3rd Life. We're a team, and I can handle myself, and as much as we kid around, Timmy can take care of himself, too." Grian rests a comforting hand on Joel's knee. "You've gotta let us protect you, too. And the first step of that is you sleeping, alright?"
Joel struggles to find his words, hand crawling up to clutch at the grey sweater Grian wears in his sleep, voice dropping to a whisper to say, "I don't...I don't know if it's broken, or something, I—I can't tell if it's supposed to be like this, but—you all have the ticking, right?"
Grian nods. "Yeah?"
"It doesn't sound like it's for me," Joel whispers, so quick that Grian almost misses it. "It sounds like—I feel like it's ticking down for everyone else. For you and Tim. I-It doesn't sound any different, I can just feel..."
He trails off, and he meets Grian's eyes for the last time, torn up and shaking almost as much as his hands. Grian...doesn't know what to say. That isn't how it's supposed to be, but it isn't like he has full control over those minute details. He wouldn't be particularly surprised at the more Watcherish part of him finding it amusing to warp Joel's internal clock to cause more distress to him, and that realisation makes him wince.
He's just as emotionally constipated as Joel, if he's being honest, so he doesn't know how to respond aside from a quiet, "I'm...sorry."
Joel searches his eyes for another moment before flicking them away. "'S fine. Not your fault."
"I made the game," Grian protests. "I'm sorry it's like that for you."
"It's not your fault," Joel insists. He lets his hand slide off of Grian's arm, pulling his blanket off of his shoulders. "I'll—I'll sleep. It's fine."
"Joel—" Grian says, grabbing Joel's other arm. He can't pull up any more words to say, so he just yanks his groupmate close to his chest and engulfs him in a hug aided by his wings.
He feels Joel's chest rumble with a nervous laugh, hears him draw in a breath to speak, and Grian nips the bud before Joel even says a word: "If you say anything along the lines of 'It's not very bad boy of us to hug,' I will kill you until you respawn back in Empires."
Joel laughs a little louder, digging his nails into the fabric of Grian's sweater, trying to play it off as him not clutching for dear life. "You know me so well."
"I know that you're an idiot," Grian jabs lightheartedly.
"Yeah, your idiot," Joel says, and Grian sighs heavily at the grin he can hear in his voice. "Babe."
"Shut up."
Waking up before Joel never felt so damn good.
It was a welcome change to have to detach himself from Joel's limbs instead of waking up to him already writing or chest sorting or chicken farming, and sure, he got a decent amount of hours of sleep, but he woke up entirely too suddenly entirely too early for it to be normal. As soon as he shifts in the bed, he feels a presence slip off of his back, and he has to stop himself from groaning—someone was watching him. And assuming that everyone else on the server is resting and relaxing like they're supposed to be between sessions, the only person that it could be is Jimmy. And, sure, maybe the issue with Joel isn't entirely resolved, but at least he made progress. And, hopefully, he won't be acting so weird today. Maybe he could do the same with Jimmy.
He slides out of bed and changes into his normal outfit, eyes lingering on the weird attic space that juts out of the roof of the mansion, which was probably where Jimmy had watched him from—probably coming up to get something while they were asleep, if the open chest is any indication, before letting his eyes linger when he went back inside and subsequently waking Grian up. Now the only issue is actually finding where Jimmy scampered off to. The guy takes off like a scared bird (ha) whenever Grian is even in his general vicinity, so he's probably going to have to corner him wherever he's holing up—which might take a decently long time to find, as this is a mansion.
Eventually, after around twenty minutes of straight searching, he finds it—a room underneath one of the staircases, tucked away from sight and almost requiring one to break blocks or squeeze a significant amount if they aren't very short—which Grian is, so avoiding hitting his head on the underneath of a stair is a breeze. He's rather sure Jimmy already knows he's here due to his Nature, so he quickly opens the door to the hidden room before—
He comes across Jimmy pushing a window open, presumably to try and run. Yeah.
They stare at each other, Grian's eyebrows raised so high they almost ache as Jimmy flinches out of pure shock and lets go of the window. Grian doesn't manage to get a word out before Jimmy stutters out a quiet, "S—Sorry, G, I'll—"
"No," Grian interrupts, putting himself deliberately between Jimmy and the door. "Don't leave."
Jimmy's head snaps to the side, shoulders raised, and Grian itches to cross over and hold his hands until he stops freaking out, but he knows it'll just make him freak out more, so he holds his ground, even as Jimmy tries to force himself to speak. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Grian. Just—I'll leave. I—I need to see Tango for something, anyways, so—"
"Tim," Grian says, taking a step forward. Jimmy takes a large step back, then another, until he's pushed himself up against the wall. "You've been avoiding me for the past two days."
"Sorry—"
"I'm not mad," Grian says exasperatedly. "You've just been acting weird and I want to know what's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong!"
"Did I do something?" Grian asks despite already knowing the answer, taking another step towards Jimmy. "Did the Retreat freak you out?"
"No!" Jimmy yelps, folding in on himself even further, not meeting his eyes. "No, of course not—I'd never be afraid of your—you know. That isn't fair."
Despite being obviously terrified out of his mind, Jimmy makes it a point to go out of his way to try and make Grian comfortable. He could almost gag on the sweetness if it didn't make him so bloody happy every time. "Right, then, what is it? I can't accept that you're just suddenly avoiding me for no reason."
"It's—"
Jimmy draws in a breath so deep it almost looks like it hurts, meeting Grian's eyes with an almost sad uncertainty. "You don't have to do this, G. Just leave me alone."
Grian stares at him. "What are you talking about?"
"I got you killed," Jimmy stresses, almost snapping at him—or, at least, the closest thing he can get to snapping at Grian when his voice is still wavering and his shoulders are still hunched and his head is still jerking from one side to another. "That's not—that's not what I'm meant to do. You know what I'm here to do, man."
Grian rouses his feathers, shaking off the weight in his words with a furrowed brow. "I don't see what that has to do with my deaths."
"Grian, I'm not supposed to let other people die," he says thickly. "I'm supposed to be the first. I'm supposed to—and I let you die. I didn't protect you and I was meant to—and I remembered—I mean, you saw Double Life. I was the one that got Tango killed. When I'm around people, they—"
Jimmy chokes on his words and lets his shoulders slump, pressing the heel of his palm to his eyes. "I'm cursed. Everyone says I'm not, just to make me feel better or whatever, but between you and me, we know that I'm cursed. And—and I'm fine with it. I really am. So I can't—I can't let other people suffer because of it. I have to be the first one to go."
"Tim—Jimmy," Grian says, stopping him in his tracks, wincing when Jimmy sniffles and tries to ignore the fact that he almost started crying. "You—just because you're cursed doesn't mean you have to play into it. What the heck are you even—Tim, you're supposed to be fighting it. You always fight against it."
"Fighting against it just gets people hurt, G," Jimmy says miserably, head tilted uncomfortably to the side. Grian swiftly crosses the room and grabs him by the hand, his thumb resting on the back of Jimmy's freezing skin and not moving—almost immediately, Jimmy's head settles back into a normal position and he sighs despite himself, still shying away from Grian and almost seeming like he's afraid to hold him back. "I can just—I can just—I'm not giving up, I'm not suicidal, but I—I know what has to happen. I'm here to play the game and get out first, right when everything gets bad. I'm not going to fight it. I—I can't."
"Tim, you have to," Grian says simply, the closest thing to comfort he can offer. "You're a bad boy, we're not going going to sit there and watch you get killed without doing anything."
"Maybe you should," Jimmy says miserably. "Trying to save me is just going to get you killed. It's like trying to force something through a brick wall—I'm cursed. It's just going to backfire if we try. If you try."
Grian stares at the ground, holding Jimmy's hand in his as his body begins to tense again. Grian tries for a smidgen of levity in his voice as he says, "Curses can be broken, you know."
"Yeah, but—"
"And Joel is trying to break his," Grian continues, pulling Jimmy along with him as he slides down the wall to sit. "It isn't impossible."
"Joel is cursed?"
Normally, Grian wouldn't share this sort of information with anyone—someone being cursed, whether they know it or not, is a pretty serious thing that not everyone would want to share. It was a little unfair for Jimmy to literally sprout canary wings on his corpse when he died for the first time all the way back in 3rd Life, because Scar told Grian about the wings appearing right after he died, Grian told Scott (because Scott demanded to know why such a thing would happen, and Grian isn't so heartless as to deny someone in mourning an explanation), and Scott told anyone that asked him why he was wearing a feather that it belonged to Jimmy, which led to people putting the pieces together for themselves. All this to say, Jimmy never even had a chance to keep his secret.
He wouldn't share someone else's with anyone else, but Jimmy is a Listener, and despite him having a very good handle on his Nature, such an important and Weighted fact ever being spoken aloud would inevitably reach Jimmy's ears, whether he was in the vicinity or not. He knows for absolutely certain that Martyn now knows, too—but, again, if he had ever told Joel, the same thing would have happened.
"Yeah," Grian says simply. "To end up alone by the end of the game every time. It's a pretty bad one."
Jimmy blinks a few times, turning to the side in thought before regarding Grian with confusion. "Didn't he and Etho die together last season?"
"Yeah, but, y'know," Grian shrugs. "It counts, since they were soulbonded. They were the most isolated group, and they both died alone together. It's like how if Tango was the one to die first last season, it would still count as fulfilling your curse."
"Huh," Jimmy says. "And he's...trying to break it?"
"He doesn't really know it exists—he just noticed a pattern and. Well. You know Joel."
Jimmy stares at the ground. "Yeah," he says, and it sounds bitter. "That's Joel. Not me."
"Oh, Channel, Timmy," Grian chides lightheartedly. "Look, you've been fighting well for this entire game—this entire series, alright? You're hanging with us now, and we are not letting you throw your life away because of some stupid curse. We can handle ourselves. We have made the choice to team with you. We know you're cursed—everyone knows you're cursed, Jim. You don't think us teaming with you was a conscious choice?"
Jimmy stays silent, and Grian nudges him. "You're only meant to worry about your own self-interest. Joel and I can worry about ours. Okay?"
The other avian shifts, squirming in his seat a little before quietly saying, "I feel like I've gotten this lecture from three different people at this point. I wish it could actually...click."
Grian pats Jimmy's hand with the one not holding it, shifting to give him a side hug. "'S alright, Tim. You've got a pretty bad situation. We can tell you as many times as you need."
"Thanks," Jimmy says, voice no louder than a whisper. He halfheartedly laughs by Grian's ear. "This isn't very bad of me."
Grian obnoxiously groans and falls away. "What is with you and Joel and this stupid bad boys thing? It's bad boys of you to talk about your feelings! Stop saying that! I swear to Channel, I'm going to kill the both of you."
Jimmy breaks into snickers, wings and arms curling in on himself as he shakes with silent laughter. "Is it making you mad, boy?"
Grian stares at him. "Stop it."
"Or is it making you a sad boy?"
"Stop."
"Fine, fine," Jimmy says, waving him off and turning away in that way that makes Grian know that he's absolutely about to make another awful joke. "I thought my puns were pretty rad, boy, but I guess not."
Grian smacks him with the underside of his wing. "Jimmy."