Archive of Our Own

Memory is fickle. Redundant, in a way where you don’t necessarily notice when chunks of it are gone. Two best friends are on a ship and the ship isn’t moving. This does not, immediately, feel like an emergency. 

An extremely handsome man wearing silk shorts is helping them off the floor. “Thanks,” says Mike, grabbing his hand.

“No problem,” says the man, pulling him up. The two of them reach for Pac next.

“Hey, who are you?” Mike asks. “And do you know where we are? … What the fuck? Cell?”  

Standing in the doorway, Cell greets them like old friends. “Pac? Mike? Um – I go by Cellbit now. Where are we, it’s – oh my god, it’s so good to see you guys!”

“You too!” says Mike, and means it, before an alarm bell starts going off somewhere in his mind.

“Cellbit?” says Pac. “Whoa, man, you look great, how have you been – ”

Hey, Pac, Mike starts to think –

Someone else is there too. “Felps?!” Pac shrieks. “What the fuck?”

Then everything really goes to the bizarro dimension.

Their ship ran aground, but their arrival was anticipated. How can both of these things be true?

 They’re warmly greeted by a bunch of strangers. There are a bunch of dragon-children who are cute as hatching chicks. Nobody else speaks Portuguese. 

One of Cellbit’s childhood friends is there. Some guy who looks exactly like Forever’s ex-boyfriend is there. FitMC, the war journalist, is there. What?

After helping them out of their wreckage, the existing residents bring them excitedly to the adoption center. The Federation that runs everything here set one aside just for them. Everyone around them laughs and smiles like this is normal. "Go on!" they say, "Name the baby!"

Richarlyson is a wild little kid and none of them are ready to raise a child. After conferring, Cellbit gives him a diamond sword. Richarlyson considers it, and then immediately uses it to knock both Felps and Cellbit to the ground. Then he gets in a fight with one of the other egg kids. They broker a giggling truce with Roier and Bobby, for food, laughing, nervous, as their new child rushes around them. 

None of them have any idea where Richarlyson came from, or, for that matter, what any of them are doing here. Pac and Mike are building a house, with Felps helping – like a real simple oak planks starter house. Because it’s what they were told to do and it feels like what they were supposed to do. They keep taking breaks to look at each other, look around them, stop and think. How is this happening?

Mike goes to mark something, and reaches into his pocket and finds a green carpenter’s pencil there. Not his regular inventory – his pocket. He stares at it. Pac feels Mike’s thoughts trip-spiral and comes to see what he’s doing. 

“Where did you get that?” Pac asks.

“I think I brought it with me,” says Mike. He thinks it like a question: I think I brought it with me? 

He pats down his pockets, finds nothing. He stares at the pencil some more. He pulls off his glasses to examine them, but realizes he can’t see anything and puts them back on. “Pac, let me see your leg.”

Pac blinks, but rolls up his pant leg above his prosthetic. Mike crouches and looks at the outside of the beam.

Written on the metal, in pencil, in Mike’s small handwriting, is:  

4/29 – We are on cargo ship from Rio to ? losing our memories don’t know why – Cell + Felps are here but fine so far – new guy 4ever is helping us – big storm – good luck!

…Huh, thinks Mike. 

Why is that THERE? Pac wonders.

I figured that if I thought we were switching servers, I might have thought they wouldn’t take it off you, Mike explains. So it’d be a good place to leave future-us a message. I guess I thought right. 

Whoa. …I guess that doesn’t tell us anything new, though.

Not really, thinks Mike, though even that he’s not sure about. He groans. …Pac, what the fuck is happening to us?

Pac shrugs. I think we live here now… I don’t know, man. I think this is our next adventure?

Mike sighs, but smiles a little too. Yeah, I guess. Next adventure.

“Richarlyson!” Felps is yelling from nearby. “Where are you, Richarlyson?” Pac shakes his pant leg down and then stumbles, and Mike springs up, both of them looking around for a child-sized figure. Somewhere. Anywhere. 

“Richarlyson?” Did they lose him already? 

“Richarlyson? Where did he go, Felps?” Mike is already charging off. Wasn’t this house for him? What if he’s gone –

“Ayyy,” Felps sighs in relief, and both of Tazercraft runs to him. Richarlyson is teetering out of the woods. His shirt is wet up to his armpits, wet sand all over him. 

“Richas, where were you?” Mike asks. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Richarlyson holds out a small turtle. 

The adults all coo over it, its cute little legs, and at the same time, they sigh in relief. Now that it’s passed, god, that panic was something. 

The kid doesn’t have the good grace to look at all contrite, either.

Little devil.

In the weeks to come, four of the five will be confused about how the kissing started. Who hit on who first. Who broke the wall. How the old rotten bonds and the strong new bonds of camaraderie started turning into a web of real love. Like, the romantic kind of love. If you’re in its midst, of course it feels ineffable and magical. 

But Mike has no patience for the inexplicable. He’s pretty sure he knows the truth and that’s that it’s all Pac’s fault. 

He even thinks there’s a window he can pin it down to: specifically, on the second or third day (oh my GOD, Pac, slow down), where they get separated and Pac (with whoever he's with) thinks I kind of want to stay in this cave and wait out the rain, is that okay, and Mike thinks no worries, Cellbit and I are teaching Richarlyson how to do fraud, which they are, and then the bond goes pretty quiet. And the next time he sees Pac, Pac is looking like the cat that ate the canary.

What’s up with you? Mike thinks.

Nothing, Pac lies.

So he doesn’t know who it was with, but Mike knows it’s Pac’s fault. Then the next time they’re all together, along with Badboyhalo who is also there for some reason, maybe showing them something, Forever says something that Felps likes and Felps fully kisses Forever on the lips.

“Oh!” says Bad. 

Mike agrees. While Mike and Cellbit lose their heads, Pac looks vaguely embarrassed, which is further evidence in favor of Mike’s theory.

“Ay caralho!” says Mike.

“What the fuck!” says Cellbit, and then “When did – ”

“Are you jealous?” says Forever.

“Did we ever do this?” says Felps, also to Cellbit. “Because I thought we did but maybe we didn’t, but, you know, if you wanted to start,” He speaks too fast for the translator to pick up so Bad only looks between them, confused. Cellbit stammers. 

“Ay caralho.” Mike has a feeling that he is losing his one sane Brazilian ally, because Cellbit is not saying no. This is easily the third worst thing Cellbit has ever done.

(…That Mike knows of.) 

Forever grins like the devil. “I like you guys, is that so bad? Kisses for all. You too, Mike, they’re free.” 

“Oh, no, god – ” Mike starts –

“He doesn't do that. He’s retired,” Pac explains.

“I’m retired,” says Mike. This explains nothing. Fortunately, Forever takes this in stride.

Oh my god, thinks Mike, anyhow, at everything.

Uhhhhh, thinks Pac, so it’s what it looks like –

“Well that’s nice,” Bad comments, mildly, while Mike despairs. “So what do you like to do, Mike?”

There’s some conversation going on that he tries not to hear, but Mike can see that Felps is taking Cellbit’s hand and trying to make Forever hold it.

“I like sleeping for eternity,” Mike tells Bad, in English.

“Oh!” says Bad, facing fully away from the others and leaning against a wall. “Well, it’s good to have hobbies.”

Well, that was interesting, Mike thinks, next time they’re alone.

Mike… thinks Pac, who knows this is going somewhere.

“I mean, Cellbit?” Mike says aloud, throwing up his arms.

Pac sticks his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and doesn’t meet Mike’s eyes.

I’m going crazy! Mike thinks. No, wait, YOU’RE going crazy. You, you DO remember –

Pac’s expression flattens. Yeah, Mike, I remember! I remember pretty well! …But look, you can tell, they’re both different now. Cellbit’s different. He’s nice. He’s funny. …And Mike. Mike, what you really need to know, is that he’s really, really, REALLY –

Okay! thinks Mike, blushing. Okay, yeah, you’re not wrong.

That’s enough to startle Pac. Mike!

Mike awards himself five points and goes for a combo. I’m just saying, I’m just saying. If I WERE going to fuck someone -

MIKE! …We wouldn’t fuck, anyways. He’s not into that.

…Oh, huh. …Wait, that ALREADY came up?

I mean, uh, who knew, right?

Oh my god. Mike puts his head in his hands.

Now Felps, on the other hand –

AAAAARGH! The worst part about telepathic links is that you can’t plug your ears to stop hearing them when they are thinking terrible things at you. Nor can you block out their subsequent laughter. Turnabout is a sin and a crime. Mike can, at least, shove Pac over.

He takes the moment of Pac yelping and finding his footing to breathe deeply, re-achieve inner peace, and muster his thoughts. Listen. Pac, you know that I support you. You’re your own person and if you want to do something you can go for it.

Thank you, Mike.

Even if I think it’s a bad idea, it’s still your choice to make.

Thank you. That means a lot to me.

Even if it is so fucking dumb. 

Hey!

Even if it’s stupid and it’s going to fuck you over big-time and it will take everything I have not to say ‘I told you so’ about it, well, I won’t say it, because that’s how here I am for you. 

Okay, thank you, that’s enough support out of you.

Mike giggles. A warm and comfortable silence breaks between them for a few moments. Hey, thinks Mike, does he still do, like, the ‘little darling’ stuff…?

No! Not at all.

Oh thank GOD.

For real. God, that would be –

Yeah.

Yeah.

The next day, they’re goofing around on the mountainside, on their buildsite, and nothing goes very far, but at one point Pac throws himself over Cellbit’s back, as for a piggy-back ride, and Cellbit kind of hoists him in place, arms around his legs, and looks over his shoulder at Pac with such giggly delight that it makes Mike sick. 

Not because it’s Cell (because he doesn’t really look or sound like Cell). Just because it’s grossly sweet. Somehow both of them catch Mike’s eye. Pac ignores him but Cellbit hesitates a second. 

Mike squints at him. Then he gives them a thumbs-up.

Cellbit tries to look amused and unaffected, rather than relieved. But his poker face is terrible.

Cellbit has a good poker face. Always has. It’s kind of his thing. He has to fight it constantly because – well, he doesn’t really remember, but he’s pretty sure it’s bad – but it’s still a little bit second nature, when surrounded by all this uncertainty, to slip back into saying nothing and giving away nothing and biting anyone who confuses him more. He tries to appreciate the mystery instead. It goes pretty good. A mystery is kind of fun, sometimes.

He only wishes he remembers where he got all this stuff from. Parts of his life wash up in his mind like translucent shards. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever have them all, or how he’d know if he did.

Sometimes, it’s like he has kind of a feeling and then the outline of the memory gets filled in. Like it clicks: Therapy! That was it. He did a lot of fucking therapy.

Other times, he knows the outline abstractly, like the framework of everything that happened, but then the color fills in all at once. Why are those ones always worse? He has a dream and wakes up and remembers, in the pit of his gut, why he did a lot of fucking therapy. He sits up and stares at the sleeping bodies of Felps and Pac and Mike for half an hour. It’s the middle of the night.

This explains why Pac won’t stay alone with him for very long. Why was Pac kissing him in the first place? Why did Cellbit kiss back? He knew about the prison, abstractly, but it didn’t feel like anything then – abstractly, it was funny –  he didn’t – he thought – god – 

Somehow he manages to stay quiet. That’s a lot of color. He kind of thinks he didn’t need all of that.

Then Cellbit runs. He digs in a cave. Pac or Mike or Felps message over the communicator, asking where he is, and he doesn’t answer. He replies to Forever, eventually. Forever is new, and self-possessed enough to be annoying, and thus relatively safe. He feels unconscionably relieved when Forever finds his little cave and sits with him. Forever’s really nice, too. Hugs Cellbit until he can think again.

“The others are, like, nervous around me,” Cellbit tells him. “I don’t want you to… get into something you’ll regret.”

“Oh, I’m such a bad boy and I’m so scary and menacing that you can’t be around me,” Forever mocks him. “I’ll hurt you. I’ll ruin your life. I’m a poisonous snake. Is that about right?”

Cellbit stares at him. “Jesus Christ, man. I – are you joking? I have a history with them, okay? I’ve done – I don’t know what you’re thinking of, but I’ve done some shit, they have their reasons.”

“Are you going to do some shit to them again?”

“No,” says Cellbit, curtly. “...I’ve changed.”

“Good for you, man.”

“...Thanks. But – ”

Forever looms, voice going low again. “And… do you think you’re going to do some shit to me?”

Confused, Cellbit scans his face. “No.”

“That’s a little disappointing, man,” Forever laments, trailing a finger up Cellbit’s chin. He draws Cellbit’s face towards him, and kisses him. Wide-eyed and weak-willed to handsome men, Cellbit supposes that he can allow Forever to make his own decisions.

Cellbit quickly makes his peace with the idea of him and Pac, or him and Felps. It kind of helps that he’s hung out with Felps for years and Felps was always chill. It also helps that Pac keeps climbing into his lap. It still seems like Pac doesn’t want to be alone with them, which is, like, maybe fine?

 – But Forever tells him that Pac doesn’t want to be alone for long with him either, and Forever never took a bite out of Pac’s leg, or held Pac down while someone else took a bite out of his leg. So maybe it’s not a Cellbit problem. 

Well, Pac and Mike are really close, maybe even closer than they were eight years ago, and Cellbit would never ever ask but he kind of wonders –

He gets some evidence toward his theory one morning when he and Felps and Pac crept off to get some privacy, and Mike and Richas were going to be working on the farm. Mike and Pac started off as cowboys, wrangling wild steers around the hillsides to get a food source going. That first pen was pretty primitive and can be improved. Now Richarlyson will be inducted into being a cowboy too.

They’re lying down, until Pac sits straight up, wild-eyed. He gets up. “Mike,” he gasps, clutching his chest. Messages come through the communicators that they don’t check for a second as Pac pulls his leg on, stumbles once, twice, to his feet, and is booking it back to their home –

On the communicator, there are two death messages. One for Mike, one for Richarlyson.

On seeing them, Cellbit and Felps are running too. But it’s weird that Pac knew before the death messages, right?

Well. Pac was always kind of weird.

The rest of that day and the day after are bad. Sad, of course, but then very quickly on top of that, a sort of manic energetic bad where they want to solve things. God, Mike tries to solve things. Richas has forgiven him, almost instantly, thinks being killed by a mad cow was pretty funny, but Mike still feels awful. He puts in some work and then finds a corner of his favela house and sits down and doesn’t get back up.

Pac sits with him. Carefully, he scrapes some of the guilt into his own head. It disables Pac now, but helps Mike enough that Mike can sit up and hug him. Felps comes and joins them later, just sitting there in a reassuringly Felps-like fashion. Forever drifts over too, eventually. He actually asks what’s wrong.

“Cellbit is… like, really into Project Imortalyson,” Pac explains, haltingly.

“That’s not really weird for him,” says Felps. “You know how he gets, like, super excited about things, he doesn’t sleep, it’s just thing, thing, thing.”

“...I actually didn’t really know that,” says Pac.

“It’s a great idea,” says Forever. “Like… With Richas, we can’t let this happen again. You know?”

“I do know. It’s – yeah, I mean, we do better, it just feels like – like we were already trying? I just mean, to me. …We’re going with it, but okay, like, it feels really bad.”

Mike groans. It’s unclear to Felps and Forever whether this is a groan of agreement or ‘stop talking about me’. Pac knows, but doesn’t do anything about it other than hold him a little tighter. You can’t always listen to Mike.

“Mike, you know Cellbit’s not, like, doing this at you, right?” Forever asks.

Mike's still not really up for speaking.

“I – I mean, I think so. He knows. But.” Pac shrugs.

“Well, it’s true. But I’ll talk to Cellbit, anyway, okay? Maybe he can turn it down. A bit. We’re in it for the long haul and I don’t know how much he’s thinking about that. You know.”

Felps pats Mike’s back. “Maybe it’s worth going with it. It won’t be forever and it’s good for Richas. Cellbit is scared too.”

“Really?” asks Pac.

“Sure. That’s why he’s doing it.”

Felps is right. Cellbit relents and lets Richarlyson just live after a while. He’s going after what he realizes is the real target: the Federation.

They’re all on-edge, of course, more keyed into ambient danger and the risks inherent in living. But Richarlyson won’t let anything get him down. That hope spreads to his parents too.

It’s just – it’s nice being around them, how they get along. It feels comfortable and exciting all at once. Pac is just standing in the house and Forever’s hand circles his waist. Out of politeness, Pac grays out the mental link so Mike doesn’t have to feel it. Mike’s still out of the house working, so Pac doesn’t feel bad about leaning back against Forever, blinking fondly, listening to what he says. 

Felps comes back – from putting Richas to bed – and joins them instantly; from somewhere behind Pac, he kisses Forever.

“Hey,” Pac objects, squirming. He had dibs.

“Oh, you’re in a good mood,” says Forever. He caresses Felps’ face with his free hand. His other arm tightens around Pac – not a lot, not enough to really restrain him, but like he’s – it’s like he’s holding Pac in place while he focuses on Felps instead. Which is – hot, actually, very hot. It makes Pac want to squirm more. 

“Can we lay down?” Forever asks. “Please, I need it, all day that guy is getting in my head. I don’t know what he wants, it’s making me crazy.”

“What guy?” Felps asks. “This one here?”

“Not Pac. Philza,” Forever sighs.

“He’s super in love,” Pac tells Felps.

“It’s going to kill me. He’s all I can think about. Come distract me.” Forever drags them to the bed; on the way, Felps steals a kiss from Pac too. Felps is forgiven. 

Cellbit is actually in the bed already, lying down on the near side. “Are you guys going to fuck?”

“I don’t know.” Forever drawls. “Are you joining?”

“No,” says Cellbit. “If I see a dick, I’m pouring lava on all of us.”

“Okay, okay, nobody show their dicks to Cellbit,” Forever announces. They lie down bracketing Forever – Forever draws Pac toward him, tangling their legs together and kissing him, but Felps slips behind Forever and starts really distracting him, toying with his shoulders, hands running around his front. Forever’s kisses go sloppy as his attention splits. He anchors himself grabbing at Pac. Pac feels teased – the looks Felps shoots him over Forever’s flexing shoulders only add to it – and turned-on and warm. The fact that Cellbit is behind him somewhere – still, tranquil, but maybe he’s watching – only stokes the fire.

Pac choreographs in his imagination: he thinks he’d like Forever to lay on him, or Felps for that matter. Better yet, one and then the other – Forever as he is, Felps leaning over, crushing him absently while they make out, perhaps until the weight is too much for Pac, and then they turn their attentions to him  – 

Well, it’s just an idea. Forever is relaxing, playing with Pac’s arms and hands, and that’s nice too, while Felps occupies himself tracing Forever’s collarbones through his shirt and kissing along his neck. Pac is in fact sleepy. He’s enjoying the show but his eyes flutter.

“Olá!” Mike calls, striding through the front door.

“Mike!” Pac cheers happily. He pulls free of Forever so he can back up to make room – still plenty of space – and makes grabby hands. Chuckling, Mike slowly sets his backpack aside, and then climbs into the open space. Mike smells like sweat and coal, but not too bad. His skin is cold from the night air. Pac sets about warming him up.

“What were you up to?” Forever asks.

“Chopping trees and filling furnaces,” says Mike. “We keep turning all our coal into torches.”

“The caves are fucking huge under here,” Cellbit agrees. “Feels like we can’t have enough.”

How close are we to a farm? Pac asks.

I can barely hear you, bro, Mike thinks, blurrily. 

Right; Pac brings him back into focus. I wondered how close we are to a farm, Pac asks. For charcoal.

Oh – yeah, it’ll be a while. We need – iron, we need zinc –

Oh. Okay.

Mike takes in what’s in front of him: Felps tightly wrapped around Forever, huffing laughter into his neck. Pac was pulling away from them when he walked in.

Wait, did I fuck up? Mike thinks, suddenly and crystal-clear. 

It’s weird to hear Mike so self-conscious. His inner voice is usually shameless.

No! thinks Pac.

Of course YOU wouldn’t think so, Mike points out.

If you’re not going to listen to me, then why are you asking ME? Pac snaps. Ask them.

Mike grits his teeth. In a small voice, to the night, he asks, “Hey, did I interrupt you guys when I came in?”

“No,” says Cellbit.

“No way, man,” says Forever, sleepy but warm. “We were waiting on you to start the party.” He reaches over and grabs Mike’s wrist, and squeezes it.

“Oh,” says Mike, trying not to let on how reassured he is. “...Okay. Good.”

Pac hugs tighter around Mike’s waist, reassuring. Look! See!

Calm down, Mike thinks.

I’m proud of you.

...Shut up. But he snuggles into Pac, and he holds Forever’s wrist, lightly, and rubs it with his thumb, back and forth.

Mike comes back through and kills the cows that killed Richarlyson. It’s quick and practical. The ranch is now closed. Mike has decided that they do not need a ranch in the favela anymore.

But there’s no reason to waste the meat. Cellbit wanders by Mike butchering a carcass in the street and stares. “Do you need leather?”

“No,” says Mike. “I’m getting revenge. For Richas.”

“Oh, sick,” says Cellbit. He waits to the side until Mike’s done even filling in the blocks that the farm once occupied, and offers him an apple. “It’s good to keep hydrated. Vengeance can really take it out of you.”

“Thanks,” says Mike. He was about done anyhow, but he is hungry, so he takes the apple and tears it apart with his teeth. …Hey, he does feel kind of better after that. Hot and tired, though. He and Cellbit sit under one of the tall oak trees still left on the hill to get out of the sun.

“Does it, like, feel good? Like you’re killing the same cow that killed him, or something?” Cellbit asks.

Well, that’s a weird question. “Oh, I definitely killed the same cow. The same day.”

“I figured,” says Cellbit. He sounds proud.

“But, like, yeah? I guess. I don’t think I’m, like, kicking the metaphysical ass of all cows or whatever. They’ll keep spawning. This is just for me. And also to say goodbye to the project.”

“Huh. That’s cool, saying goodbye to the project. The farm? You come up with that?” 

“It’s like– um, I got into religion a few years ago.”

“Oh, no shit? Me too,” says Cellbit. “What, uh, what do you do?”

“Uh, I swore an oath to the Goddess of Creation. She’s – Yeah! It’s going really well, actually. I can act as her vessel sometimes. When she wants. It’s awesome.”

“Dude, that’s fucking sick,” says Cellbit.

Pac yammers at Mike’s mind. What are you talking about? Are you with him? 

Calm down, Mike thinks. He tunes Pac down slightly. “And studying helped me learn to build stuff too, machines and shit. What about you?” he asks.

“Oh, um – so there’s Love, she’s big. ...And I haven’t, like, transcended yet, but there’s Knowledge, which is also big… and Blood, and Death, and Chaos…”

“Bro, you got a whole pantheon,” says Mike. “Hey, is that occult shit? That sounds like occult shit.”

Which is FINE, Pac thinks nervously, fuzzy through the connection.

“Which is fine!” Mike adds.

Cellbit laughs, sheepishly. “Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s been really good for me, though, I think. Like, um – the structure, and, the, the philosophy, and – oh, that’s why Felps is here, I don’t know if I said that.”

“What?” says Mike. “Like, you met him through the occult stuff?”

“Yeah!” says Cellbit.

“You didn’t mention that before. You know, we really thought he died in the prison,” says Mike.

“Oh, he did. I killed him.”

“...Okay,” says Mike. He tunes Pac back up so Pac can listen.

“Yeah, I was, um – ” Suddenly nervous, Cellbit fidgets ferociously with his goggles, tugging at the strap. “So I was, like, really deep in therapy at the same time when I was getting into this shit. I was trying to make amends. I really wanted to – yeah, to just do what I could, to do right by – the people I’d hurt the worst. So I, um, do you know necromancy?”

“Do I know necromancy,” Mike repeats. “I know, like, about necromancy.”

What the fuck, thinks Pac.

“Yeah, so I tried necromancy. Um, so I tried on JV first, and his spirit, like, refused the call – which is totally fair,” Cellbit waves his hands to emphasize. “Like that’s completely understandable. But I tried on Felps too and his spirit answered. I apologized and stuff, and he was like, okay, I forgive you. ...Which I didn’t, um, expect, but he was just – yeah, it was really nice. ...Anyway, then he was like, so I have to leave now? And I was like, I don’t know, I guess not? So he kind of just stayed around.”

“...What?”

“Yeah. He hung around.”

What the FUCK, thinks Pac.

“...Oh. Whoa.”

“Yeah.” Cellbit smiles, a little proud. “We were, like, roommates for a while. … Because on paper he was still dead and everything, and I was a wanted criminal, so it just made sense to stick together. We just hung out. I don’t know. I guess I never had someone like that.”

“That’s crazy, man.” 

“Yeah.” 

Mike picks a few blades of grass. “It’s kind of cool, though.”

“...Yeah!”

Pac’s gone quiet. Mike will have to check in on him. He’s feeling pretty chill about this, though. Cellbit’s running his hands around and around his goggles and looking comfortable with himself. Mike even musters his courage and pokes Cellbit in the shoulder.

“You never tried to make amends with us,” he says.

MIKE, Pac screams into his brain.

Cellbit immediately looks uneasy. “Well, there – I mean, the dead people came first, because I hurt them worse, I guess. And you like – well, it was closer to even between us, right? …I was still – I did think about – But then I was like, oh shit, you guys probably think I’m dead. I’d have to, like, track you down. You don’t want me to do that. That’s what I thought. That it’d be best to let you go.”

“Oh,” says Mike. He thinks about that one. “Okay, that’s a good point. There wasn’t a good way to go from there.”

Cellbit’s mouth crooks; he looks away. In a few minutes, Mike is going to have to leave and go talk Pac down, he can already feel his panic, shrill and climbing endlessly like Shepard tones. But just for now Mike tunes Pac down again, because this is his moment too.

Cellbit fidgets, glances at Mike, glances back.  This is the longest conversation they’ve ever had about the prison, since the escape. Mike doesn’t really want to have more – he doesn’t need to – but it’s cool that it can be in the room with them.

Hey, on that note, Mike wants to kill Cellbit like those cows. He has for years. Now’s his chance. He could hit him with his big axe until he can’t stand up and then he could keep hitting him. 

But, importantly, he doesn’t do that. 

See, he also wants to, like, go home with Cellbit and stuff. Walk with him back to Pac and their son and talk about their builds. Feel Pac go all happy and sparkly when Cellbit compliments him. 

Mike wants that more than he wants the trouble, he figures.

That’s a good wake-up call, actually. Mike’s been slacking and getting caught up in distracting things like being a father and having a family. But it’s time to find god. 

Mike cannot feel the Goddess strongly here. That’s not surprising. Yes, there are things built on the island, a lot of them even, but her presence is personal. Mike has barely made more than a wooden house and a bar. 

He needs to extend the invitation.

He and Pac go scope out a gorgeous biome and hollow out space inside. Mike assembles the little iron they can spare. He tells Pac to go spend time with his lovers, while he does real work. Pac laughs, and leaves him alone. He understands the joke.

Mike builds and prays. He prays as he sets up waterwheels and cog mechanisms. Flowing lava. Running water. The cobblestone generator and mill is very basic and very, very small. They just don’t have the metal yet. He meditates as the incantation finishes, to the sound of the drillheads whirring and blocks breaking and the lava congealing, over and over, a miracle manifest.

Time to see if it worked. He opens the output chest. Seven stacks of cobblestone and counting. This is the purest creation there is: Something from nothing.

THERE YOU ARE, says the Goddesss Mine, into his soul. I was getting worried! I couldn’t find you anywhere.

Sorry, thinks Mike. He’s grinning. Her voice is so faint, even when she shouts, but it can get louder. All he has to do is keep creating. He missed her so much and he tells her that. So much stuff has happened, it’s been crazy…

Tell me everything, the Goddess demands.

Mike thinks things might just turn out okay.

Mike does not know how he can possibly make this turn out okay.

There are a hundred problems Mike could solve given time. He could test their blood and know who can donate to whom; better yet, he could mass-produce health potions, regen, golden apples. A gold farm especially would not go over well with the Federation but that’s just another solvable problem. Give him time. 

Give him time.

Cellbit vanished in the middle of their plan; minutes later, they saw the death message. He respawned in bloody tatters and he’s still bleeding. The others rush out to beg for potions, golden apples, anything the other islanders might be able to spare. Give Mike andesite, give him copper, give him gold and blaze rods and give him a month.

Right now, if he tries his hardest, Mike can put fluids into Cellbit faster than Cellbit can lose them. This is the limit of his abilities. 

While Mike works the opposite of miracles, Forever holds Cellbit. Holds him together, even – he’s Mike’s second set of hands, keeping pressure on pads of white cloth that are seeping red around the edges. Finally, help comes from outside: Pac and Bad and Maxo return with three healing potions and four golden apples. 

The first potion and apple together immediately do more than all of Mike’s first aid. He didn’t like the idea of stitches without anesthesia, and he probably won’t need to do them now. Cellbit’s stopped soaking through his bandages and he’s stopped writhing. His pulse has stabilized. 

Mike sighs. He waves Forever over to the operating table and retreats to clean himself up. Then he goes and flops next to Pac, on the front steps, in the warm night air.

“I hate being poor,” Mike says.

“Yeah.”

Mike’s too tired to speak anymore, even if the others are close enough to not-hear and find it strange. We had a lab once. Now we just have iron tools. Raw porkchops. We can’t do anything! I couldn’t do anything!

You did the best you could, thinks Pac.

I could have done better if I had the stuff. First Richarlyson and now Cellbit. He’s going to be fucked up forever now, you know.

No he’s not.

Yes he is! He even respawned already! Look at him, can’t you tell?

No, no, no… Now Pac’s panic is setting in too. Permanent injuries are a sore subject. …How did it happen that quickly? He was just there and then – the Federation was trying to be nice to us, even if they were pretending, how did – is he really –

Mike knows he’s not wrong but this won’t help either of them. Calma, he thinks. He throws an arm around Pac and presses their heads together, sighing. He’s alive and talking so he’ll be okay, alright? … We need to get stuff. That’s what we need for next time. But we can’t do iron farms and I don’t know how to do potions –

We’ll get another lab set up. You’re right. That’ll be our next project.

Yeah. Okay, okay.

We’ll figure it out. You know we will, Mike.

…Yeah.

Meanwhile, Forever opts to stay with Cellbit and help him with other intimate things: getting him to the toilet, washing blood off of him, helping him into new clothes. Cellbit lets him. Even dragged away from the door of a death loop, Cellbit seems surprised at how scared he is, at how much he hurts, like he never expected he could be this fucked up and he keeps forgetting that he is. 

Staying with Cellbit, reassuring him in a low voice, Forever surprises himself by how much he cares. By how little he wants to leave.

“We’ll get back at them, okay, Cellbo? We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out.”

Though he doesn’t know it, Forever is saying some of the same words to Cellbit that Pac is saying to Mike at the same time. 

It’s a sweet thought, a heroic and earnest one. But they have so much further left to fall.

Felps doesn’t like what’s happening at all. Obviously. He doesn’t like that Cellbit has nightmares every time he sleeps, or that he’s hurting. He doesn’t like the way his  family acts like they’re surrounded by invisible enemies. But they’ll all get over it. 

What he really, really doesn’t like is Richarlyson having one life. Richas can’t come back from that.

Unless…

Felps sees it like this: there have been trials and rollbacks for the egg lives, and the Federation provided them with the eggs in the first place. The Cucurucho or its boss can probably hand out more lives if it sees fit too. It’s just a matter of establishing a bond and seeing what it might like. Call it currying favor, if you want, sure. But Felps thinks Cucurucho might kind of hate all of them and that’s not a good way to go about getting Richarlyson another life.

And hey, bonus, this guy’s kind of fun to hang out with. He’s wacky. Felps can appreciate that.

Cellbit screams at Felps over the Cucurucho, why he wants to be friends with it. Honestly? It’s rich that Cellbit is so hung up on this. Felps also has scars from being brutally killed. And they’re still friends! 

Felps tries to be magnanimous about it but Cellbit should kind of calm down. He doesn’t have to love Cucurucho, but the tactical benefit is there. Felps tries to explain it. Multiple times. But Cellbit screams at that. Felps tells him to calm down and stop yelling because it’s upsetting people.

Cellbit goes rigid at that. His face twists. He talks himself down extremely quickly. He slinks back home and barely talks for the rest of the day.

…Felps will have to think of something to say to him later. He knows Cellbit is in a lot of physical pain. In the mean time, maybe Cellbit will at least stop antagonizing it.

He manages to pull the bear aside. 

“Hey,” he tells it, “so Richarlyson only has one life. I want to ask if there’s anything I can do…”

The Cucurucho’s wide, black eyes and eternal smile swing toward Felps. To all the world, it indicates a willingness to bargain.

Felps disappears that evening. 

Cellbit is heartbroken. He was living in a stupid dream where he could trust his friends, like, at least enough – that he didn’t have to doubt them all the time. Now he has to start. He trusted Felps, and he thought Felps trusted him, but along comes this fucking bear, this fucking organization, getting in their heads, ruining their fucking lives – 

He starts putting in long hours in the newly rebranded Ordo Theoritas. He looks differently at Pac and Mike and Forever. Doubting, calculating, yes, but also desperate.

Forever sees a rift forming and doesn’t like it one bit. This is his family. He misses Felps too, even though he just met him, even though he doesn’t know Felps the way the others know each other – but he doesn’t need to. There’s only so much you can kiss a guy and so far you can raise your child together before you miss him like a finger when he’s gone. His memories of his life before the island are blurry and dreamlike. In a way, this is the only family that this version of Forever has ever had.

A few days later, one of the other eggs, Phil’s daughter, sweet little Tallulah, loses a life. Forever is devastated.

The day after that, an airplane full of francophones falls out of the sky. The Federation delivers them a new egg as well, just like them with Richarlyson. Everyone remembers their first days on the island and ply the reserved newcomers with gifts, tools, advice. But that night, a binary entity manages to kill Bad’s son Dapper. He respawns, but like Tallulah, now with one foot in the grave.

The day after that, Richarlyson’s best friend Bobby dies-dies. It’s a mob and a freak accident. Everyone is horrified. Richas is destroyed. Forever worries that maybe this has broken him, that his beloved son is broken now. He can’t argue. He feels a little broken, too.

The Feds lead them on a wild goose chase far across hostile territory, hinting that Bobby could live. Everyone goes. They’re all parents – they understand across four languages that the most important thing in the world is getting Jaiden and Roier to those coordinates.

But after all of that, all they find is the chance to say goodbye to Bobby’s ghost.

Forever takes his rage and – it would be the height of indecency to go to his other go-tos, Philza or Bad, so he takes his rage to his confidant, to Cellbit.

 “This is fucking ridiculous,” Forever says. His eyes burn from crying but they’re dry now. “They’re killing our fucking children, Cellbo. And Pomme just got here, and she’s going to be next. They’re killing our children and – and they don’t care.”

“Forever,” Cellbit murmurs, sad and exhausted, not meeting Forever’s eyes. He rubs his forearms where the bandages are.

“Cellbo,” Forever says to him, gently taking both of his hands in his own. “We have to stop this happening. Please help me.”

Cellbit closes his eyes and grabs Forever’s hands back. His fingers shake. “Whatever you need.”

That night, Forever hauls out old sketches and expands them into full-sized drafts. They’ll need reinforced blocks. Enderpearls. Cameras. An extra room on his old design, to account for Pomme. He stays up til the wee hours before falling into a fitful rest in the big bed.

Early the next day, Cellbit helps Forever pick up his designs from all over the floor. They track down the limitlessly helpful Badboyhalo. And together, they start building a nest.

The new egg hotel is up and tested and running, and like a miracle that’s as worrying as it is surprising, the Federation doesn’t retaliate. That was what Cellbit was worried about, right? But he doesn’t seem to feel any of the relief or simple satisfaction that Forever thinks they deserve. What will it take to get him to relax?

Pac and Mike notice it too – Cellbit’s getting worse. He’s getting violent. Not to them – not to any of them, thank god – but he didn’t start that way either.

Mike and Pac put beds (theirs, plus one for Richas) in Chume Labs and start spending nights there. They can’t sleep around Cellbit when he’s like that. They have to play it by ear. Cellbit never says a word but he can tell they’re treating him different and he grits his teeth and drifts, drifts, into his castle on the hill and further away.

“Can you guys please stay?” Forever begs them one night, in a low voice. “Look, I – maybe if we have a normal night, you know, if he knows more of us are looking out for him, I just think it might – ”

Pac starts feeling bad, willing to concede that it might help, but Mike cuts that off with a sharp “No.” (Forever’s face falls.) “Not until he’s calmed down. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Forever tries to argue. He thinks he can get through to Pac. Mike doesn’t begrudge Forever –  this is how he cares. But either way, whether he leaves frustrated with them or not, Forever will go back and Cellbit will have the option to not be alone. 

The way Mike sees it, Pac and Mike won’t be helping anyone or thinking more clearly by wearing themselves down, becoming insomniacs, reliving years-old anxieties all night. Whether or not this hole Cellbit’s digging himself into turns out to be worth it, he and Pac do not also need to be in a hole. And Forever might be able to sway Pac’s good judgment, but that’s the best part of sharing a brain: the outsourcing.

Mike leads Pac away from Forever before either of them makes things worse. That is how he cares.

>> How did the cucurucho meeting go?
>> Did they let us keep the creative tanks?

>> i don
>> where r u

>> Chume Labs
>> are you and richas at the ocean?? we can come to you

>> im at favela
>> richas asleep
>> please come

When Mike and Pac get there, Forever is alone. Cellbit isn’t with him.

Forever is crying.

“Guys,” says Forever, “Do you know where Richarlyson is?”

Pac and Mike look at each other. “With Cellbit?”

“Cellbit doesn’t know.”

Richarlyson turns out to be fine, but the ocean of terror before they realize that is life-changing in scope. There is a way you think about your life before it and a way you think about your life after it.

(The way you think about your life after it is smaller. More insignificant.)

Then Cellbit disappears too. There’s no point in Tazercraft staying away. At night, Richas is in his egg-bunker and they’re down to three. They cling to each other in the big bed in the favela, but none of them get much sleep.

I miss Felps, thinks Pac.

Me too, thinks Mike.

I also miss Cellbit, thinks Pac.

Mike doesn’t think anything directly to him. Pac nudges him. Come on. You miss him too. Don’t pretend you don’t.

Aaagh, thinks Mike. I miss who he was for a – a while there. But Pac, you know who he – who – I mean – he was getting worse! He scared you, Pac!

Yeah, thinks Pac, shifting.

Like, was it an act that he was nice in the first place? Do you think? 

I don’t think it was an act. I really don’t think so, Mike…

Okay but it’s worse if it wasn’t an act! You get that, right? How were we this stupid? Fuck…

Calm down. We didn’t get it wrong, he was good, Mike! He was good! And – and he didn’t do anything. You know? 

Pac… I mean, even if he didn’t, do you really think he would never? You don’t think he would?

Pac sighs. …No, I don’t think he would. He thinks it confused, with a question mark, like: I don’t think he would?

He notices it because Mike notices it. Their concern, shared and sad, pools between them.

Pac thinks it again, more certain this time. I don’t think he would.

They don’t think anything at each other for a while, heads busy but nothing verbalized. 

I’m scared, Mike thinks clearly, after a while. Him, Felps – it feels bad to want them back in our lives this bad.

Mm, thinks Pac. Yeah. But things change, right?

Mike sighs. Then he sits up. Okay. Shit. You convinced me. We need to get them back. Fucking – ….So I have an idea for a way to piss the Federation off. It’s not a great plan but it might be the best we can do –

YEAH? Pac thinks excitedly. What do you need?

Mike grins. Mechanical drills. Lots of mechanical drills.

Felps wakes up below the ground. He’s cold and very weak and his arm hurts. As though in a dream, he finds it very hard to think. Cellbit is clawing at glass that separates them and yelling his name.  That gets his attention, enough. He has to be here. He has things to do.

After they talk each other through an escape, Cellbit stumbles against him, sobbing. It takes everything Felps has to keep them both upright. He kisses Cellbit’s tear-wet lips with his cold mouth. Even that effort makes him shake. He wishes he could do more.

Cellbit leads him to a warp plate, and then a room where he can sit down. He’s wearing a hospital gown. He doesn’t remember anything. Cellbit sits in his lap. The only thing Felps can do is wrap his arms around Cellbit. They’re two lost souls. You don’t think of lost souls as being able to do much, and they can’t, but they can stick together if nothing stops them. Felps feels Cellbit cling to him and slowly warm him up, degree by degree, until their family and friends come in to truly return them to the land of the living.

After the rescue party, long, low conversations that go late into the summer night, Roier shows up to the others propping up a nearly-asleep Cellbit. “He needs a bed,” he tells them, needlessly. “I kept him too long. You guys can have him.”

“Thanks bro,” says Forever, taking Cellbit. He and Roier grin at each other, both exhausted, both relieved. Mike goes to find Felps. 

For the first time in months, five of them go home together in the Favela.

“I’m sorry,” Cellbit slurs, his eyes sliding closed and blinking open. He says this to Mike and Pac,  who sit next to him, on the bed. 

“You already said that.” Mike rubs his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“It’d be fine if you want more space. I know. I don’t...” He looks at Mike, looks over Mike to Pac too. Right, he needs to hear it from both of them. Cute. Makes sense.

“It’s okay,” says Pac. “We missed you. We want to be here. It’s all good, alright?”

He pauses, then leans over Mike to kiss Cellbit. Cellbit makes a soft noise and looks pleasantly wounded, he hugs Felps closer to him. Pac kisses Felps too for good measure. Mike allows this all to go on but starts trying to switch places with Pac when Felps starts to shift – but Pac pushes them all down. 

“Sleep time,” he declares. 

Cellbit obeys, absolutely twining with Felps, chest to chest, Felps’ bad hand resting loosely on Cellbit’s hip. Their faces touch – if one of them wakes up, the first thing they’ll see will be each other. 

Forever joins them, slipping behind Felps. Good, think Cellbit. Protect him. Keep him warm. Meanwhile, Mike tucks around Cellbit. Cellbit relaxes and feels like he might cry.

He thinks he should stay up to savor this but he dozes, almost instantly. 

He wakes up to Felps shaking, and feels guilty and horrible. The same torchlit room, Mike’s strong back to his, thank god, thank god.

“What’s up?” Cellbit asks, a soft soft voice that any of them can hear.

“I don’t know,” Felps whimpers. “I think I’m fine.”

Cellbit checks his face with his hand. No tears. He wants to assure Felps that he is fine. That he just had a nightmare. But – Cellbit doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know what happened in the days he was kidnapped. He has no idea what happened to Felps when Felps was kidnapped, or what happens if you’re frozen, like if Felps is dying or – 

But there’s nothing he can do – 

He strokes Felps’ cheek. Did the others wake up? Cellbit is so tired he feels sick. He wants to say he’s sure that he waited until Felps was okay before falling asleep again himself. He knows he hopes he did. 

When he wakes up, Felps is still there and is asleep, looking peaceful. Richas has come in and is painting in the window. Cellbit’s skin only hurts a little.

It still barely feels real.

Fortunately for Cellbit, the more it happens, in days to come, over and over, it will.

The others realize that Felps is serious about this giant hole around the same time they realize he’s sleeping a lot. Days on end. When he’s like that, he can’t be woken, it’s like there’s a curse on him. Cellbit asks if they can run tests; Tazercraft tries what they can think of but he’s not dead and there’s nothing in his brain that isn’t supposed to be there. 

(“Are you sure he didn’t do that before?” Mike asked Cellbit, at one point. “You lived with him before.”

Cellbit’s eyes widened, and he’d stared at Mike. “I – I don’t remember,” he admitted. “I don’t know.”

Mike patted his back.)

One dusk they’re talking and realize that none of them has seen Felps all day. Not even Richas. Pac elects to go look for him.

He’s relieved to find Felps at work where he’s supposed to be. Felps doesn’t over-exert himself, is the nice thing. He takes breaks. If one of the others had set themselves to digging a big hole by hand, Pac knows they’d be sweaty and tired and work until it was done, probably hurting themselves in the process, just by virtue of how they are. Felps has more good sense than any of them. At least in this area. …Possibly only in this area. Still, it bears investigation.

“Oi, Felps,” Pac waves, sitting on the edge of the cliff. 

Felps looks up, shielding his eyes against the setting sun, squinting. When he sees who it is, his grin breaks, slow and sunny. 

Pac drops down the sheer side. He uses a glider to catch himself.

Felps hugs him. He gives really good hugs, full-bodied, leans into them. Or maybe Pac’s just special.

“How’s it going?” Pac asks, into his neck.

“Oh, it’s going,” says Felps. “I dug.”

“Nice.” Pac lets go. “Are you hungry?”

Felps thinks about it. “Yeah,” he decides.

“Okay, good, I brought you food.”

“You did?” Felps smiles.

“Yeah, hang on, I -” Pac roots around through his things, then deploys a blue armchair, and a green armchair, and when he can’t find a real table, a big chunk of log, and lays them out in short order. Felps applauds. 

Pac takes the blue chair. He waves Felps into the green one. It’s soft and comfortable and Felps sinks into it, shutting his eyes.

“Are you tired?” Pac seems to be asking, from somewhere.

“I guess, huh?”

Pac lays out food on plates on the log, and forks. It’s some kind of chicken with lemon. It smells really good. Felps is starving. It’s really good. He’s shoveling it into his mouth without thinking about it.

 “...Where’s Mike?” Felps thinks to ask. “I’m sitting in his chair.”

“I think he thought we were going to make out so he told me to get you. …I mean, I don’t think he minds being there if he’s not, like, involved. But he thinks you might mind, which is fair.”

“Oh. I don’t mind, I like Mike. … But hey, Pac, what gives? We’re eating, and not making out.”

“Well, the others are there, and maybe I wanted you to myself a little longer.”

“Ah.” Felps smiles.

“...But we could go back tonight, if you want. I didn’t know if you wanted to dig for a while more, I could help you, but, um, we could go see them too…”

Felps considers. “I was going to keep going for a while, but, mm – yeah, I’ll go see everyone after this, I think. I kind of feel like I’m going to go to sleep for a while soon. Like a long time.”

“Yeah,” says Pac, who guessed as much. “That’s good. Um. Sometimes we worry that you’ll, like, fall asleep out here, like a really deep sleep, and you’ll die or get kidnapped or something and we wouldn’t know.”

Felps stops eating.

Pac cringes. “Sorry.”

“Man!” says Felps. He stares at the table. 

Pac feels like an asshole. “Sorry, um…”

“...I didn’t think of it like that.” It makes sense. They didn’t keep track of each other at first, except for Richarlyson – the worst thing that would happen would be that they’d respawn! Of course they’d come back! Felps feels like everything changes every time he wakes up. Starting in the ice, probably, but even that he’s not sure about. It feels like he did something, and then a lot of things took off and left the station without him. 

He knows that Richarlyson had one life. He knows that Richarlyson still has one life.

At least he’s alive, right? No thanks to Felps.

He remembers planning Festa Junina, with the others, decorating it, even enjoying it. It was the most normal he’s felt in a long time, in terms of emotions, sensations, desires, etc. But he’d slept exhausted for days after it and gone back to his hole the next time he could. Things make sense out there. It’s a square. You go down.

When he looks around, Pac has gotten out of his chair, and is kneeling next to the table, and when he sees Felps looking, he puts his hand on his knee. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry. But come home, okay?”

Pac, that absolute bastard. Felps can’t deny him anything, not with his wide brown eyes like that, not kneeling at his feet. The wave of desire is so strong it actually wakes him up a little. “Okay,” Felps promises.

“And keep eating, okay? …Unless you’re full.”

Felps tries another bite. Why, yes, he was still hungry. Pac is so smart sometimes.

When he’s finished the bowl, and then a little more of another bowl, Pac is sitting across from him again, and Felps’ stomach is full and comfortable. The sun has gone but it’s not dark. It’s cooled off just a little, pleasant in the eversummer climate. Paradoxically, Felps feels warmer now. He doesn’t know if he had been cold before. Pac is fidgeting; he magicks the dishes and table-log away.

“I’d can’t leave this stuff and fill up the square,” Pac notes. “I’d backtrack your work.”

“This isn’t fill. It’s furnishing,” argues Felps. “The square is a home.”

“I guess I’ll come back later and put it back.”

“Thank you,” says Felps. He notes that he is smiling. “Do you, like, get nervous without Mike?”

“No! …Maybe.” says Pac, and then thinks, and says, “Well, less than I used to.” He sits back in his chair, shifting. “…Do you get lonely out here?”

“Mm,” says Felps, “No. It doesn’t really matter.”

“Whoa,” says Pac, thoughtful. “That’s cool.”

“If I did, I’d just go see all of you anyhow. …But still, I like the company.”

Pac beams. They haven’t talked about it, but Felps has been leaning into Pac more and more lately. Looking for him when he’s not around, sad when he can’t see him. Dreams about him and not even just flashback-nightmares. They kissed at the festival. 

Felps is distantly relieved he can still get worked up about anyone, but at the same time doesn’t feel good about subjecting Pac to himself. Especially when he’s like this. Pac seeks him out, usually, but Pac seeks all sorts of things out. It doesn’t mean they’re good for him. 

It’s not like that with Cellbit, but Pac isn’t the same person as Cellbit. Felps just worries about Pac. Maybe that's paternalistic of him.

“You wanna go back to the others?” he asks. “I don’t want to keep you. And I want to hang out with Mike.”

Pac nods, kicks his feet, tugs on the edge of his hood. “We could make out first if you wanted,” he says.

“Oh! Okay.” Well, it’s still not like Felps is going to turn him down. 

Felps isn’t stupid.

Felps has been asleep for the past four days. He shows no signs of waking. They’ve made him his own bed, near the hearths but still in the same room, for convenience. 

It feels a little weird. But it was already weird to see him sleep so much. At a certain point the weirdness stops mattering and you just have to be practical.

There’s a photo on the wall. In the photo is Richas without his mooshroom head, dancing over Pac’s prone, bloody body. Forever is wearing a diamond chestplate; Pac is wearing an iron helmet, amd none of the rest of them have any armor whatsoever. Cellbit and Felps have iron pickaxes out. Everyone is grinning. There’s still only two and a half houses on the hill. The photo is slightly blurry because Mike wasn’t paying that much attention when he took it. But here it is.

At the bottom of the photo, in Richarlyson’s handwriting, it’s labeled: 

the helmet didn’t help kkkkkkk >:D

Pac touches the frame. He was telling them to take the photo. He thought it would look funny. It did, but not especially funny. It’s more that it lasted, that this was their first days together and is one of the things the six of them pulled out of the past. And that they decided to hang it on their wall, even now. 

Richas is out right now, doing some late-night project with Bad. He’ll probably do a sleepover there with Pomme, or just not sleep. Look, if anyone could have stopped Richas from being the way he is, it would have happened by now.

Cellbit comes over to see what Pac’s looking at, and smiles at him. Maybe just at seeing Pac so focused. Pac notices him and chuckles self-consciously. 

“The good old days, huh?”

Cellbit laughs, stifled but charming. “Bro, those days sucked shit.”

Mike agrees with Cellbit. We had nothing. Our kid lost a life. Cellbit got attacked with a chainsaw. We didn’t have armor. They kidnapped Felps. Bobby died…

Well not that! thinks Pac. I mean like…

Pac sifts through his mind, and turns up images, fleeting ones. His frown deepens. Cellbit and Forever are looking at them, in the same confused expectant way everyone does when they’ve been forgetting to speak out loud.

“I don’t think we ever had good old days,” says Mike. “I think we just had days.”

Well, fuck. “We were together.”

“We’re together now.” Mike follows Pac’s gaze to Felps. “...Plus we have, like, good food and houses and stuff.”

Pac feels bad. “Yeah. No, that’s true. Ignore me, sorry, I was just – I wasn’t thinking.” Mike, quick, make a distraction!

In an act of great betrayal, Mike does not make a distraction, and instead ruffles Pac’s hair.

“It feels like things used to be simpler,” says Forever. “But I – maybe you’re right, I think our memories play tricks on us, you know?”

“I, um, don’t really know when you’re thinking of,” says Cellbit, tentatively. (Neither does Pac, apparently.) “But I – I think even if we thought things were simpler, they weren’t. We just knew less. It was always this complicated.”

“Yeah,” says Pac. “That’s true.” He sighs.

 Mike eavesdrops on his thoughts. Pac’s not even wrong, and this melancholy isn’t new. It might even have been Mike’s in the first place. But also, it’s been a long day. 

Probably being around their family will help. It tends to do that.

“Cheer up,” says Mike, nudging Pac. “Bro, we can teleport now.”

“Oh yeah!” says Pac. “Hey, that’s pretty cool.”