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“We need to talk. Please.”
Fit saw the message as soon as he woke up for another day in hell (a ‘break’, as far as he knew, for some reason there wouldn’t be a competition that day). Instantly, he frowned, the pain and scars from the previous day’s attack still fresh on his body. A lot of conflicting feelings rushed through his mind, but he did his best to keep them under control. He didn’t really have time to think about it thoroughly, and instead just pushed it to the back of his mind as usual to deal with it later.
But Pac… Pac had other ideas. He didn’t sleep at all, the memories of the attack from his own teammates against Fit running through his mind in a loop like a bad movie. He tried stopping them, he did! He asked them to stop. He did! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t touch Fit, he promised he would never harm him. Of course it wasn’t his fault. Of course he could…
I’m a hypocrite, aren’t I? He thought, burying his face in his hands right after sending that message. He could try and twist the truth as much as he wanted, but the facts remained. Telling them to stop wouldn’t do shit, he knew that. It was his fault. He could have done something, anything. He could have warned Fit. He could have confronted them. He could at least not be there when it happened. And even if he didn’t land any blows, he knew what it looked like to the old war veteran.
Coming back from it would be difficult. If it was possible at all.
“What do you want?” Fit stared at the message for what seemed like hours. His teammates weren’t up yet, so he was alone at the camp with his own thoughts, and they were getting harder to repress. Why did it make him feel so… uneasy? As much as he tried to rationalize, something still seemed so off. He knew Pac didn’t lay a finger on him by himself, and he heard him apologizing. But still, how could he not feel betrayed? And yet, he knew the stakes, he knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, so did he even have a right to feel betrayed? Sure, they promised not to hurt each other, but the rules of that place would probably force them to confront each other eventually. There were lives on line, their children’s lives, and the three teams had too much to lose, so much that turning on one another and sacrificing their own values and humanity didn’t seem such a bad deal. So when he finally hit ‘send’ on that message, he just felt empty and sad.
The reply came almost immediately, to his surprise. Knowing Pac, he was probably ruminating on what happened since the previous day, and it was definitely eating at him. He knew Pac well enough by then. Anxious, self-conscious and with a dangerous tendency to sell himself short, to see himself as weak. But also cowardly, cynical and able to manipulate people easily. And still kind, funny, gentle and brave to the point of making self-sacrificing for his loved ones a second nature. He got to see all his sides, and read him well. Pac was a flawed but genuinely good person, and it only made his betrayal - could he even call it that? - hurt more.
“About yesterday. I want to clear things between us.”
Pac typed and erased and typed and erased the message a thousand times before setting on a text. He thought about apologizing. He thought about explaining himself. He thought about saying it wasn’t his fault. But soon he realized nothing would really go through by text, he needed to talk to him in person, to see him. But how? Of course Fit wouldn’t agree to meet him, especially after what happened. Even before the Purgatory, he kept people at arm’s length, carefully choosing his words and actions and adapting accordingly. He was a survivalist by excellence, one who knew that trust was a precious and rare commodity he wouldn’t give away easily. And yet… he chose to give it to Pac. He chose to show more than the ruthless warrior from 2b2t. He chose to allow himself to be goofy and gentle, easily flustered by his flirting. Quesadilla allowed him to tune down his defenses in general, but Pac allowed him to be more vulnerable than ever. And now, he threw it all away.
Fit considered just sending a dismissive ‘don’t worry about it’ text, but something stopped him. They were already in hell, in opposite teams, their children’s lives hanging by a thread. What use would it be to just bottle it up even more? In a sense, he wanted answers and closure. How worse could it get, at this point? What else could he lose? Worst case scenario, he would die again and get solid reasons to lose any trust, but would still be standing for the next day like usual. And best case scenario…
“Meet me. I’m sending coordinates. And please come alone.” Was he setting himself up for a trap? Probably. But, against his best judgment, he decided to give him one last chance. He picked a spot away from all the bases, and quickly got up and prepared to leave. Traveling light, leaving behind anything he wouldn’t need. If things went south, he would just cut his losses… in more ways than one. At that point, the others were starting to wake up, Etoiles being the first, and he noticed Fit gearing up.
“Fit? Where are you going?” He asked. “We don't have any missions for today, do we?”
“No, no”. He didn’t see any reason to lie to the French man. “It’s… something personal. Don’t worry, it won't take long. If the others ask, just say I had to check up on something.”
“And does this something personal demand you to travel without your inventory?”, he retorted. “You’re traveling very light, aren’t you? Almost like you’re expecting to lose everything on you. Does it have anything to do with yesterday?”
Shit. He was easy to read, after all. Fit just shook his head and started saying something, but Etoiles didn’t let him start.
“Do what you need to. I’ll make up something for the others if needed.” He smiled. “If you need help, just send a message. Go sort things out with your roommate .”
The emphasis Etoiles put on that specific word almost made Fit combust. The clumsy way he used to describe their relationship was already a running joke among the others, but in what other way would he do it? Were they friends? Something else? What exactly was this ‘something else’, then? Every other term seemed too much, almost like he couldn’t allow himself to consider it. He just decided to ignore it and go to the meeting point, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.
When Pac received the coordinates, he felt his heart sink. Clutching the cellphone tightly, he knew what he had to do, but didn’t know what to expect. Since the first day, he wanted to meet him, to talk and think of how to proceed, but it didn’t happen. And now… he had a feeling it wouldn’t be much of a conversation either. He snuck out in silence, taking the same shortcuts and paths he took the day before to hide from the others. Whatever happened, it needed to be done quickly, before the others woke up and started hunting him again.
It was a distant and quiet place. He tried to make sure he wasn’t being followed, the last thing he needed was making Fit think he set up another ambush. And hell, maybe there was an ambush for him this time, waiting in those coordinates. It would be fair, actually. But not on brand with Fit. When he finally arrived in a secluded glade surrounded by tall pine trees, no one was there. It was a very unprotected place, and he felt uneasy instantly. Trying to keep his breathing under control, he kept looking around, wondering where Fit would come from.
And then…
“Pac.” He heard his voice from behind one of the trees. Fit’s eyes were inexpressive, almost cold. He kept his hands visible, and Pac noticed he didn’t carry a lot on him. He also seemed alone, which was a relief. “You came. Was it a safe journey?”
Fuck. Even in that situation, Fit was still worried about his safety. The guilt escalated even more.
“Yes, yes, nothing happened.” He started opening a smile, but couldn’t keep it for more than one second. A long tense silence fell upon them, Fit measuring him with his eyes with emotions that Pac couldn’t properly describe. The veteran stepped into the glade, still staring at him, never breaking eye contact. The Brazilian man felt uncomfortable, the silence was getting heavier and heavier. And then…
Fit drew a sword and pointed to him. For a millisecond, Pac winched, but decided to stand his ground and instead give a step towards the other man.
“You came alone, right?” Fit hadn't asked him to, but he hoped it was the case. He wasn’t willing to get another blade in his back if he could help it. Pac wouldn’t do it, but it would be a cold day in hell before he expected the same from anyone else from the blue team. After looking around for a while, he lowered his weapon, but kept the stare, and talked again. “Very well. What do you want to talk about?”
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. All excuses, Pac knew. And at this point excuses and explanations would not cut it anymore. So what was left to offer instead was… compensation.
“About yesterday. I really have no excuses, I broke our promise and as much as I wanted to undo it, I can't.” His voice was grave and deeper than usual. “So I'm gonna give you a free kill today. Or more, if you want to.” He opened his arms, showing his empty hands. It was only fair, he thought. Blood for blood, points for points. It was only fair. It made sense to him. It could work.
But Fit never felt so insulted in his whole life.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice sounded louder and unusually angry, his fists closed into balls instinctively. How dare he? Did he really think it was that easy? “I don't need your pity, you bellend. I don't want it. If you really think this will magically make everything disappear, do us both a favor and fuck off to your base.”
Fit was enraged, the rude words he used against Pac very new and weird to him. But the feeling was not: he hated being pitied, it always felt condescending and humiliating. And it would do nothing to change what happened, only placate Pac's own remorse and regret. The betrayal would still be there. Pac stared at him speechless and stunned, like a deer in headlights.
Pity…? Pac’s brain took a second to process what the other just said. And suddenly, he felt like the biggest idiot in the whole world; Of course it would look like that to him! Of course it would look empty, and shallow, and self-serving. And Fit’s eyes… cold, and angry, and tired. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t, he felt so exposed in his weakness, and he couldn’t hide, he didn’t have the right to hide from him.
The Purgatory was showing his sins to the last person he wanted to see them. That was his punishment.
Fit lowered his voice after the first moment. Despite everything, he didn’t want to lose it on one of the dearest people he had in that place. With a deep breath, he shook his head and started turning around, saying with sadness in his voice.
“Don’t be seen with me. Your team will go ballistic on you if they think you’re fraternizing with the enemy. We can discuss it when we return.” When… or if , he thought, but that was a concept he wouldn’t put in words yet. To be honest, he didn’t have great hopes in leaving Purgatory or saving the kids. The Eye entity was clearly having a lot of fun putting them into misery, forcing them to kill each other over a fragile promise with literally zero proof. But if that was the board they had to play on, he would just do his best and hope for the best while being fully prepared for the worst.
“Fit, WAIT!” After the first seconds of shock, Pac realized he needed to do something. Anything. The urgency to fix things was over him, he didn’t know when or if they’d have a moment to talk again, and waiting for them to return to Quesadilla simply wouldn’t do. No. In that place, every moment counted. What if the Eye’s threats were real? What if the so-called cursed team lost and they all died? Then what? He already left too much unsaid to way too many people, and he would be damned if he’d let Fit be just another of them. “Please. Tell me how to fix it. Tell me how to prove myself to you. I don’t pity you, what the hell? But I don’t know what to do anymore! I don’t… I don’t know…”
Fit sighed. He was weak to Pac’s words, that wasn’t a secret, and in many cases, the Brazilian man used it to his favor. But not this time. He could see in his eyes, he was really at a loss. Alone, scared, forced to fight everyone he still held dear, over the faint hope of bringing their children back. And he genuinely wanted to make things right, but what he didn’ realize was that his feelings were way more complicated than anger over a perceived betrayal. He didn’t have an answer either. Unless…
And then, Fit drew his sword and pointed it at Pac.
“Then prove it by fighting. And meaning it.” He was made for war, in war. And unless Pac let go of his indecisiveness, he wouldn’t last long in that hellish battlefield. And Fit wouldn’t be there forever to protect him, as much as he wanted it. They had lost too much, and being on the fence was a luxury they didn’t get to have anymore. “And if you dare to not give your all in this battle, we’re done. Am I clear? I know you’re good at fighting, so don’t you dare to give me anything less than your absolute best.”
Fit’s declaration caught Pac off guard for a millisecond, but then he just shook his head in agreement, and drew his blade. Fit was right: he got too comfortable not making any decisions and letting circumstances define the outcome. And he had it in him to take charge. He was the one who plunged into the Nether without a second thought, he was the one who took weird meds for the slim chance of finding a cure for his friend, he was the one who searched high and low for his best friend. So why the hell couldn’t he show the same determination now, when it was needed more than ever? He needed to prove himself not to Fit, but to himself . He was scared out of his mind, but to be paralyzed with fear was a privilege he didn’t have anymore.
“Very well. You too. Don’t hold back.”
Quickly, they established the rules. Iron swords, no armor, no shields. And no pulling back, it would be a battle to death. And as they circled the glade, eyes locked into each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, a torrent crossed their minds.
For Pac, it was anger at himself. At how he let things go this far for not taking a stand.
For Fit, it was frustration. He wanted the other to stand on his two feet, and own his actions and mistakes - if they could even be called that.
For both, it was grief . Grief over the life they had and lost, and over what they could still lose. Their hopes. Their dreams.
Pac moved first, fast as lightning. What he lacked in physical strength he compensated with speed and accuracy, reading Fit’s body language and capturing an open spot in his stance. It would land a massive blow if at the last moment the other hadn’t parried his attack, spinning around and counter attacking. Fit had years of experience under his belt, seeing so many different fighting styles and techniques, and being able to read his opponent to perfection. His fighting style relied on heavy blows, aiming to incapacitate quickly and make short work of any opponent without wasting time. He knew Pac had more stamina, and a long drawn battle would only benefit him, so if he wanted to win, he’d have to do it quickly.
A barrage of attacks succeeded. Fit gained space but Pac was able to dance around him, light and fast, dodging and avoiding being hit. And yet, none of Pac’s attacks really connected, being blocked and parried easily by Fit. It was infuriating.
“WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT YOU TAKING THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY, PAC?”, and then, Fit yelled, launching himself against him. “YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT, SO WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL HOLDING BACK?”
For some reason, that affirmation angered the other man. What else did Fit want from him? What else could he give? He was giving his all to the battle, but his all wasn’t nearly enough against his defenses. And yet… now he wanted to hit him. He wanted an attack to land, he wanted to draw blood from him. Not out of anything but the need to prove himself. And then, he realized, when was the last time he really tried to do anything for himself?
He wasn’t good enough. He was alone, and scared, and hurt, and miserable. He was probably better off dead. Those thoughts ran through his mind so often they became a sort of constant white noise. But still, Fit demanded more from him. Fit demanded everything from him, and nothing less would suffice. And he could see in his eyes…
Fit expected more from him. Fit believed he had more to offer, more than his insecurities, more than his fears, more than his pain.
As for the veteran, while he was happy to dig a reaction from Pac, he knew he could offer so much more. He was a thief, a scientist, a builder. A fighter. He was his own person, and he needed to realize it. He needed to stop hiding. He needed to react, somehow. So he put more pressure, his attacks more violent, more aggressive. How long would the other be able to dodge? While he hadn't hit him yet, he was close to do it.
“AND WHAT ABOUT YOU, YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE? FIGHT LIKE YOU MEAN IT! AREN’T YOU ANGRY AS WELL? THEN DO IT FOR REAL, YOU COWARD ! OR DID YOU ALREADY FORGET WHY WE’RE HERE? IF THIS IS HOW YOU WANT TO SAVE RAMÓN, THEN HE’S JUST AS FUCKED AS BOTH OF US!” The anger and violence dripping from Pac’s words at that moment surprised both of them. The flame in his eyes was new, and Fit realized he was holding back, after all. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, and yet he was demanding it from him. He was demanding the other to keep a commitment that he himself couldn’t. And when he mentioned Ramón, Fit felt his blood boil.
“DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF MY SON LIKE THAT!” He pressed more, finally managing to hit the other. Pac gasped for air as the sword hit his back, but he stood his ground. “EVERYTHING I’M DOING SINCE DAY ONE IN THIS GODFORSAKEN PLACE IS FOR HIM! EVERYTHING!”
“AND SO… AM I!” the pain in his back was the shock he needed, and the opening he was looking for. For a split second, Fit’s defenses were open enough for him to hit him. He dodged a second too late, and Pac’s blade left a massive gash on his cheek.
The two stopped for a second, out of breath. Pac could feel the cut on his back, shallow but extensive, bleed and soak his torn shirt. The blood also covered Fit’s face, who now had a hand placed over the cut on his cheek. He opened a ferocious smile, staring at the other with newfound admiration:
“This is what I’m talking about.” He cleaned the cut on the back of his hand, spreading the blood over his face. Pac also smiled, as he realized, with surprise, that he liked the thrill of the battle, and that for the first time in months, he was in control. They were still in hell, nothing was solved, they could all be obliterated in the next hour… but in that moment, he only had to answer for himself. “You promised not to hurt me, but let’s be real: how long would any of us be able to keep this promise? So don’t apologize. If you need to do it, mean it. Don’t hold back. Our enemies won’t.”
He said ‘our’ enemies instead of ‘your’ . Pac felt his heart be a bit at ease. So they were still on the same side, after all. Even if the circumstances put them against each other, at the end of the day, they were still on the same side. He stood up, the pain in his back still fresh and sharp. But he felt so… alive. Smiling as well, wiping the sweat from his forehead on his glove, he readied his blade again.
“We’re doing this for them, right? Our children. So losing is not an option. Not to the Eye, not to the Federation… not to you.”
“I can say the same, Pac.” Fit pointed his own sword, now blunt and full of dents, to the other. His heart felt two tons lighter, and he couldn’t help but think how funny it was that the way they set the record straight was by beating the everloving shit out of each other. “Our promise was well-intended, but naive. It would end up like this. So I need you to promise me something else.”
“What is it?” Pac had to hold back the urge of saying ‘ anything you want’ . Sounding too eager would ruin the moment.
“If it comes to it, the eggs are our priority. Don’t think twice. If you need to kill me for them, do it. And do it without hesitation or regrets. Own it. Don’t hold back. We might face each other now but soon enough, we’ll be side by side on the battlefield.” He sounded so serious. In his mind, the memories of the children ran freely. Ramón. Richarlyson. Dapper, Chayanne, Tallulah, Leo, Pomme. They were counting on the adults to bring them back, and if it meant to kill each other… it was a price they would have to pay.
“But…” Pac’s smile disappeared and his face became sad and anxious again. “What if it’s for nothing? What if you die for good? I…”
“Pac. Stop.” Fit stepped towards him, lowering his sword for a moment. Their eyes met again. The engineer’s sight was filled with grief. The veteran’s eyes had sadness, resignation. Their viewpoints were different. Fit was born in war, Pac was thrown into it. Pac lost his soulmate, his family, his son, and Fit didn’t have a lot of people by his side to begin with. And yet… they could make that one choice. They could go down on their own terms, and that was a blessing not many other people could have. “I’m fully prepared to embrace the consequences of my acts, and you need to be as well. Dying doesn’t scare me. Dying without a fight does. And even if it scares you…”
“That 's not it!” the other interrupted him. “I’m not afraid of dying.” That was partially true. He had a weird relationship with death, fearing it but also longing for it. “I just… I wanna make it count. I don’t want to die for nothing. I want my life to have meaning, even if just in death. Does it make sense?”
He was scared, Fit could tell. And also tired. So tired and hopeless.
But to think his life didn’t have any meaning by itself… was just sad.
“Even if it scares you”, he continued, his voice softer, “you need to do what must be done. Promise me you will not make any more excuses. Promise me the man our enemies will find is the man who did this to me”, he pointed the cut on his face, still bleeding freely. “Promise me the man they’ll find will not hesitate or doubt himself. Even if I’m the one on the other side of your blade.”
It was the opposite of what they promised days ago. And yet… it was so much more important. So much more serious and hard to fulfill. Now that they knew what they were really facing, not fighting wasn’t a choice. And as Pac looked into Fit’s eyes - serious, but kind, longing for calmer times but prepared for war as always - he knew his ‘betrayal’ was just a small aspect of something much bigger he would have to deal with, by himself.
“Only if you promise the same.” And then, he took a step back. “Don’t hesitate about anything you want to do. Don’t hold back, and don’t look back. Please.”
Don’t hesitate. Don’t hold back. If only Pac knew the weight of those words. If only he knew what really made Fit hesitate. But it wasn’t the place or the time. Once they left those sick games, definitely, but until then, his mind needed to be elsewhere.
“You got it.” Fit smiled, and readied for battle again. Both their swords were completely useless, but they still had it in them for another round. “Now… hit me with your best shot, Pac, one last time before the others wake up.”
And they went at it for a long time. It was good practice , Fit thought. It was so nice to spend time with him , Pac realized. Eventually, both almost collapsed, completely destroyed and on the verge of passing out. And for the first time in days… they laughed. Fit first, Pac following. Lying on the ground, they just stared at each other, the sound of each other’s laughter a balm to their souls. They stared at each other for a silent moment, and found peace - something almost foreign, after so many days of chaos and struggle.
It was an almost perfect moment… probably the last peaceful instant they’d have in a long time.
Slowly, gently, Fit extended his hand to touch the other’s face. It felt natural and right. He looked lighter, like a massive weight was lifted off his shoulders. It was warm, soft. Pac did the same, his fingers touching the cut on the other’s face so delicately that he barely felt it. By that moment, it had already stopped bleeding.
“Does it still hurt?”, he asked, quietly, but Fit just shook his head. He leaned into his hand, trying to absorb as much of that moment as possible. Everything fell into place so easily. All the shyness and hesitation basically disappeared, and he would allow himself to call things as they were… or simply not call them anything at all and appreciate them for what they were.
“I really could kiss you right now, you know.” Pac said, not in his usual joking tone. He was serious, almost solemn. “And to be honest I really want to.”
“Oh yeah?”, Fit smiled. “Funny. I think I really want you to do it as well.”
“We gotta keep the ‘roommates’ thing going, though. At least while we’re here.”
“This is already the worst-kept secret of the whole island, Pac, what’s the point?”
“Well, give them something to speculate to pass time. Keeping the fofoca alive, you know?”
Fit laughed loud, and Pac laughed too. They were so close. So… close.
“So?” Fit whispered. “You were talking about a kiss or something, weren’t you?”
Pac smiled, and without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world, leaned in towards him, placing his lips gently over his. The kiss started soft, but soon became more passionate, intense. Why did they wait for so long? It just felt so right. Pac was more eager, pulling the other's body against his. Fit was slower but passionate, his fingers burying themselves into the other's hair. It lasted forever, but also lasted only an instant. Eventually they pulled apart, holding hands, their faces still close, their eyes still locked into each other.
“We should go, shouldn't we?” After another silent moment, Pac finally got up from the ground. “The others will probably look for me soon. You too. There are no missions today but we better be safe anyway.”
“Yeah…” Fit agreed. “Please text me when you get home. And… Do you think we can meet again soon?”
Pac had so many questions. What were they now? What would happen once they went back? Would it change? Would they change? But he also knew he didn't have any answers and stressing over them wouldn’t do them any favors. So instead of putting any of them in words, he simply smiled and answered the one question he could.
“We can try. Please stay safe until then, okay?”
“You too. I think we’ll get somewhere soon, we’ll get some answers. And when we go back home… we’ll have all the time to talk about us, right?”
“Right. See you, Fit.”
“See ya, Pac.”
And they went their separate ways. Fit had a goofy smile on his face, so different from the frown of the last days, and the others back at the base noticed. Some rolled their eyes, some made snide comments that he didn’t bother answering, and some just smiled. Maybe tomorrow everything will burn down again, but today… Today was good. This will not change. Today was a good day, and this one good day would keep him going a little longer.
As for Pac, he managed to sneak past almost everybody in his base, but he did run into Tubbo, who stared at him for a long time before saying.
“You look like shit and yet it seems like Christmas arrived earlier for you.”
“Do I?”, he answered, casually. He did look like shit, clothes torn, bloodied and dirty, cuts and bruises everywhere. “Oh. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“You left to meet your boyfriend, didn’t you?” The other sounded half accusative, half joking. They were rivals in competition, but he was also the number one defender of their relationship.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Pac answered, with a smile. “And if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take another nap now.”
“So you don’t deny you went to meet him! You asshole, come back here and tell me everything!”
“Nah. Good night, Tubbo”. He went back to his bed, smiling and ignoring his friend. As he said, keeping others guessing was fun. He would have the best sleep in days, and ride that high for as long as he could.
Things would get better for them.
There was still a them to look forward to, and that was the most important thing.
.
.
.
“ Green Gay Ninjas have officially been terminated.”