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It didn’t take a Listener to read the writing on the wall. As soon as Martyn heard that all three bad boys had died within a span of five minutes, he knew they were crumbling. Maybe they weren’t going to betray each other, but there were other ways to fall apart.
One of them was going to die– very, very soon. “You’d better go find Jimmy now if you’re going to give him your time,” Martyn remarked to Scott.
“Already? Are you saying that as a Listener, or as a player?” When I give him my time, will he even have a chance?
“I’m saying it as a friend.” Ignoring the distinct chirping of a canary in his ear, Martyn was telling the truth. A Listener wouldn’t say anything at all, and a player couldn’t know for certain if their predictions were right. But it would kill Scott to lose his one chance at helping the doomed man, so Listener or not, Martyn made sure he knew his time was limited.
More limited than everyone else’s.
“Alright.” Scott emptied his inventory into his chests for safekeeping and emptied his heart along with it. “I’ll go over and see how much time he’s got.” But no amount of time could stave off the curse forever.
Jimmy denied the time at first. He insisted on waiting until he was at thirty minutes. But that didn’t last very long at all, and when Jimmy called him back, Scott dropped everything to run to Bread Bridge. Martyn wished he could opt out of listening as Scott tried one last time, hiding the desperation in his voice, to get an “I love you too” from Jimmy before they both died– Scott for a moment and Jimmy forever– but Jimmy still bit his tongue.
When Scott respawned, Martyn was there. He made sure of it. He could only imagine how his fellow Mean Gill was feeling, but when he asked, Scott shrugged and lied: “At least he finally said it back.”
Martyn tried not to let on that he knew otherwise. If denial was how Scott was going to make it through his remaining time without Jimmy, so be it.
Joel, on the other hand, made it very clear very quickly that he wouldn’t be making it through his remaining time at all. Death after death, he was burning through his time. There was bread burning, too, that Grian would only find later when he came to clear out the bakery; Jimmy had put a loaf in the oven that morning and hadn’t lived to take it out.
Neither Scott nor Martyn noticed the furnace was still going when they visited the bakery. They were only there to switch a few of the wooden blocks with mossy blocks to look like mold– just to poke a little fun, but it felt like a memorial of sorts. Not just for Jimmy, but for Joel. For the Bad Boys as a whole, really, because as mold spread across their bread, their time was running out too.
Martyn had to wonder if Joel’s recklessness was fueled by some sort of hope to be reunited with his late teammate. Intentionally or not, though, their reunion wouldn’t take long. Lightning struck the Bad Boys for a second time.
And the Bad Boys died with Joel. He had always been the spirit of the group, and Grian had never cared to stand alone. So, though Grian lived on, he buried the Bad Boys. He left the burnt bread in the moldy bakery, and didn’t bother replacing the moss. He left all the crumbs where they had fallen.