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Second rarely visited Chosen. Mostly because they don’t want to annoy the stick, really–especially considering they needed a ride back up to the monitor before they realized they could probably just draw themself a pair of wings and fly back up and, more importantly, stop themself from becoming a splatter of orange in a crater in the ground. Especially considering that there wasn’t a conveniently water-filled valley to land in, now that Chosen had shown Second their actual house after the first visit. Second had been really lucky that Chosen had been cleaning up that little base, that first time.
Another thing was—they didn’t love to visit. Chosen was solitary by nature. An intimidating figure who didn’t really like to talk. Whenever Second came down, they weren’t exactly the most inviting stick in the world. Second didn’t like the idea of interrupting them in their self-chosen isolation.
They didn’t like the idea of isolation being any less than a choice, though, so Second visited. And Chosen never told them to leave so that was that. Maybe that meant Chosen didn’t mind the visits. Second hoped so. Why else would Chosen reveal where they actually lived?
It didn’t make the air of silence any less tense, though, as Chosen watched him closely while hovering by the edge of the balcony. The entire house was a bit–bland, but the balcony especially felt like it was missing something. There was a spot in the floor of it, slightly discolored, like something had been covering it for a long time and had been moved recently.
"So… how have you been?"
Chosen's expression didn't change, but Second could feel the deadpan stare anyway. He started to sweat.
"Fine."
"Good! That's—that's good."
Chosen hummed, agreeing, and that was that.
Oh, Second wished any of their friends was there with them. Red was open and kind, no one could resist talking to him. And Yellow was quiet in her own way, she knew how to make it comfortable. Green was good at getting people excited or competitive, and at least could carry on a conversation without any effort from one side. Blue was good at listening, and opposite to Green managed to latch onto and match energies rather than the other way around. It was easy to talk to her.
Orange was… not all that great, in comparison. Or maybe they just did better when they were around.
"Do you want to know something?" Chosen asked, out of the blue. Oh, hey, maybe he wasn't awful; Chosen didn't speak up for anyone. Or maybe they just couldn't stand the quiet either.
"Uh. Sure?"
“This was Dark’s room,“ Chosen said and, wow , Second really didn’t know why the heck they visited, if Chosen was going to say stuff like that. Cursors, Second could feel the tension spike in the air on the balcony, now knife cuttable. The air of the balcony to The Dark Lord’s room. That’s where the guy who killed their friends lived! Aha! Good to know!
“Y–yeah?”
Chosen glanced back, and then looked to the city in the far distance, nodding. Like that explained any of the unvoiced questions Second had. Like that explained everything. Cursors, why did the most powerful stick in existence have to be such a freaking introvert?
“I–” Chosen hummed, “I’m sorry, for what he did to you. You and your friends.”
“Oh.” Second walked forward, to the railing that Chosen was now leaning against, “I mean, it’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
“No, it isn’t–”
“Second.”
Second grimaced, they didn’t exactly love that name; they hadn’t heard it in… forever, really, but it hadn’t felt right to introduce themself as anything but The Second Coming to The Chosen One. Like their tongue had twisted as the word was forming, the nickname that had become their name, replaced by the title on their file. The Second Coming; The Chosen One’s Return. They supposed anything less would be a lie.
He never really did feel quite like Orange , when with Chosen. Orange was fun. Familiar, even, and something the others had shaped them into. Second was the person who fought Alan, the one who fought Dark. Second was the one responding to Chosen, hesitantly, one word at a time.
“Yeah?”
“She was my responsibility.” Chosen sighed, “I failed to…”
Their words died out. Chosen had a tendency to trail off like that. Second spoke up.
“She was her own person. She wasn’t your responsibility.”
“Just like it isn’t yours to protect your friends?“
Second’s hand tightened on the railing, “That’s different.”
Chosen huffed, and shook their head, “Your friends. What do you see in them?”
“What?”
“Why do you like them?”
“...'cause they’re awesome?”
“Explain.”
“Uh… I mean, I dunno. Red loves animals, and he’s super strong, and that’s really cool, I guess. Yellow’s really smart, she can code anything,” Second rambled, listing off traits like a defense, “She’s the one who got Alan here during… Uh, and Green is fun–he’s great at music and building and fighting. Blue’s really chill, she’s great with cooking. They’re all awesome. And they—they became friends with me. And fought with me, and… yeah” he finished lamely.
Chosen nodded, as if Second’s rambling made perfect sense, like it proved their point then and there.
“Dark can talk about bugs for over an hour. I’ve seen them do it.”
“Huh?”
“And she’s good with computers. They're passionate, and, ah, awesome . ” The word rolled off of Chosen’s tongue weirdly, like they hadn’t heard it before. Or maybe they’d just never used it, “He is– he was fun.”
Chosen's voice wavered, changing the tense, and as much as Second hated to humanize their murderer, it was hard to ignore how much Dark meant to them.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. And he was my friend. My first friend. He was my… it was my duty to protect them. Even from herself.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Your friends won’t end up like him. I’ve seen them and more importantly, I’ve seen you, but…”
“But it’s my duty to protect them.”
"I suppose it is."
Another lapse into silence.
"Chosen, um, why did Dark want to destroy everything?"
"...I don't know."
Second could tell Chosen was lying. Second had a feeling they were beginning to understand what Chosen meant, when they said it was their fault. They didn't want to think about it.
"Oh. So, what, was he always like that?”
Chosen hummed noncommittally, turning away.
Second let go of the railing to gesture, motions coming out a touch sharp, "How can I save them if I don't know how to—!"
"You will. When they are hurt, you help. When they are about to be." Chosen's eyes flared, for a second, a flash of laser-beam red, "You protect."
"How?"
"You—" Chosen vaguely gestured, before snapping a fire between their fingers, "It comes from within you. I think. It comes with need. I didn't protect him. I didn't talk to him. You need to… you need to."
Second watched the flicker of the fire. The fire that he didn't have . "I'm not like you, Chosen."
"No. You're not. You're better." Chosen gave Second a rare smile, barely there, and let the flame fizzle. They pushed themself off the railing, speaking as they turned to leave. "I haven't gone to the city in a while."
"Ok?"
There was an awkward pause before Chosen seemed to remember that Second didn't quite understand their half-finished sentences.
"Do you want to come?"
”Uh—yeah. Yeah! Alright! I haven't seen other sticks before. I mean, I've seen a few, but they're from Minecraft, not the city."
Second followed Chosen out of the house, the presence of ghosts and past conversations left behind, catching the somber mood with it.
"Is that so?" Chosen asked, still quiet but not painfully so, now that the words could drift away, now they didn't hang in the stagnant air of tension and social unconvention.
"Yeah! I mean, I don't know how they got on there, but Green and Blue said they were from another PC, so I don't know. Do all of the sticks there come from PCs? They have to, right? Where else would they come from?"
"Some are born there."
"How does that work?"
Chosen shrugged and, for the most part, didn't add to Second's animated chatter. They responded, of course, with little affirming hums and things as they walked out of the house, starting to walk to the city, but didn't give too much all things considered. That was fine. It was comfortable, finally.
It wasn't bad. Maybe these trips weren't as awful as Orange had remembered.