Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Scott coughed up the final bright red petals, clapping a hand against his chest a few times for good measure. They floated down to the floor, weighed down from the droplets of blood that often coated them. The bathroom tiles were stained with blood, though never in large patches. Only in small drops, across his sink, floor, shower. Some had ended up in his towels, but so be it. He didn’t have the budget for new ones.

He rolled his eyes and got up from his kneeling position on the floor to grab the broom and dustpan he kept in the room for this occasion. There was also a mop in the corner, but he didn't have time to clean up the blood now. Scott cringed when he remembered he would be gone for two months, and it would be stained by then. But really, he didn’t have time for even this.

The poppy petals were quickly swept up and distributed into the trash. They were not the first ones in there, and he didn’t think they would be the last. Blood red against white paper towels and medication packaging was eerie in a place he called his home. It haunted him in every hallway, every trash can, almost all of the sheets he owned had at least one red stain on them. 

He made the mistake of thinking about Jimmy a lot in the months after Third Life. He would cough and cough at night while he thought longingly of the canary. It became almost unbearable, but almost no one knew that. He couldn’t exactly make it stop, either, since that would involve telling Jimmy that, surprise, when they had been fake husbands it had developed into real feelings. He didn’t regret teaming up with him for the first game, quite the opposite, he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. Those were some of the best days of his life.

Jimmy didn’t know about his hanahaki. At least, he didn’t know it was for him. Scott’s hanahaki was chronic, meaning he was born with it and it wasn't going away anytime soon. It wasn’t deadly, unlike the temporary version that developed with intense feeling. With him, if he had even a crush, he would spit up flowers. The blood wasn’t as much of a problem, just the cause of a sore throat. He was used to it by now. No death in sight, just a lot of useless gay pining.

He definitely couldn’t tell Jimmy these days. He had gotten a boyfriend just over a year ago, after Double Life. He and his soulmate had decided they were a perfect match outside of the games. Now he wouldn’t go and ruin a happy relationship between Jimmy and Tango-

He felt the flowers bubble up again, fast and in larger amounts. Scott looked around for something to cough at, but he started coughing violently before he could do anything. It was a different feeling than the normal poppies, more harsh in his lungs. He sunk to his knees. It felt like the flowers were clawing their way out, grinding into his windpipe and leaving their leaves there to rot. It felt like what he assumed choking to be. 

It couldn’t be choking. And yet, as he felt the petals and leaves fly out of his throat and into his mouth, he felt like he could breathe again. He panted quickly, trying to circulate the air fast enough that it would remind him that he wasn’t dying. All it received was blurry vision and light-headedness, so he stopped. Breathing deeper now, he opened his eyes and took in the mess on the floor, and could feel the burning pains inside of him. 

Among the crimson mess on the floor, a twinge of bright yellow could be seen. Scott leaned closer, picking apart the small pile until he could pick up the small yellow petal. He had never seen one before, at least never when he thought about him (thinking of him without a name usually stopped the flowers). 

It was shaped like an oval, fading from white at the tip he assumed attached to the stem to a bright, almost fluorescent yellow. It was a tulip petal, curiously. The color reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place who. It couldn’t be about anyone but him anyway, it had always been about him. 

Scott tried not to think about it too hard. It was useless to try and make sense of the way the flowers worked, after all the years he had finally learned. Still, he had only ever gotten poppies related to him. This was the first time something else had appeared.

He sighed and went to get the dustpan and brush again. His com pinged at him from his pocket, and he sighed. Surely he was late, and it was Grian messaging him about it. He took it out and examined the screen, sighing in annoyance. It was indeed Grian, telling him to hurry up and log on. The mess would have to be picked up later, then. He could probably message Katherine to clean for him.

He navigated to the menu and scrolled down the world list, stopping when he saw a newer one with the description ‘Secret Life World’. Creative, he thought as he clicked the link and felt the air around him give out.

Teleportation was not Scott’s favorite way of travel, but it was a necessary one if he wanted to go basically anywhere. It felt like you were falling at first, air flickering around your face. Then you would feel it actually happen, a shift from the previous to the next world. He could swear he always felt it in his muscles first, then his bones. After that you would touch down (he always did so gracefully) at spawn. 

When he did, he saw most of everyone was there. There were a few obvious empty spots, like Scar (who he assumed Grian was rather feverishly messaging) and Cleo, who had a habit of being late just to annoy him. Grian was usually the late one in these scenarios, so she liked to switch the situation on him. Funnily enough, it worked most of the time.

Scott looked around the circle. Across it he could see BigB and Impulse next to Grian, Impulse also typing away on his com. To his right was Gem, the newest member of their series. He smiled at her and waved, and she waved back. It was nice to see her in these games, and he knew she would do well. Gem had a knack for PVP after all. 

He tried to avoid his left. He had caught a glimpse of who was over there, and he would rather not start coughing up flowers right before the games started. Instead Scott got lost in thought. He wondered who he would end up teaming with this season. Not anyone from the past, he was firmly against it. Gem was a viable option, she would surely take him to the finale. Grian as well, since he had won the first games. Likely not Scar, he didn’t think they would work well together. He could work with Tango-

His chest tightened, almost like before he would start coughing. He glanced at Tango just down the line, talking animatedly to Joel. He couldn’t help but feel disdainful towards him, but there was something else under the surface, something more. He assumed it was jealousy, always jealousy, since he got to be with Jimmy. Scott wished he could be normal about all of this, about Jimmy having someone else who would comfort him and pick him flowers and stay with him. But jealousy couldn’t fit anymore.

Now he was staring at Tango, trying to decipher what it was he felt bubbling in his stomach. Nothing negative, he assumed, though it should be. Negative thoughts about the blaze just didn’t exist in his mind. His brain supplied some useless thoughts, about how his hair was sparking at the edges, or about how he looked so happy while talking. Like he said, useless thoughts.

He swallowed the tickling in his throat and redirected to Grian, who was glaring at Scar but addressing them all. Cleo must be here too, then.

“Welcome, everyone, to Secret Life!” He smiled and gestured to the rock formation behind him. “You all know the rules, this is the Secret Keeper. This is where you will either be failing or succeeding. You’re heart count-“ he held up his right arm. “Is on your dominant arm.”

Scott checked his arm. Sure enough, thirty green hearts lined his veins. He hadn’t seen them before, but he assumed they had been there since he logged on. They wouldn’t regenerate at all throughout the game, unless he succeeded his task, as Grian explained to them. He only half listened to what was going on, instead intent on trying to ignore the snickering next to him as he and Martyn poked fun at Grian. 

It would get easier with time, he knew. He hadn’t seen him for a few months, so it would be worse in the beginning. Flowers every time they would talk (he tried to keep them back, because he couldn’t let him know), every time they would touch, everytime he thought of his name. It had gotten back into the rhythm of growing roots through his bronchi and up his throat. If he was to stay here, and not die first, unlike someone else, he would have to train himself to keep it all inside.

He glanced around the circle again, completely ignoring the information he would surely need in the future. Analyzing each of his friends, trying to decide which would be best for a team up. Scott was so consumed with everyone around him that he didn’t notice they were all dispersed, going off and starting to rant resources. He froze for a second, looking around at the direction they had all gone. He got a peek of two heads of blonde hair, waving goodbye to each other.

Scott coughed. A single poppy came out, along with another yellow tulip petal. He held it in his hands for a minute before dropping it on the ground, stomping on it, and walking off. Flowers were always useless to him. 

Chapter Text

Scott didn’t have a very easy time avoiding Jimmy. He encountered him once on the first day, briefly breaking up him and Scar from being a team and trying to keep the flowers down as best he could. Scott tried to get away from him as fast as possible, coughing up flowers in a nearby ditch. He was, strangely, back to just poppies. The red flowers stood out against the grass, so he kicked them under some dirt and buried all evidence of his feelings, standing after and brushing off his pants.

He found Gem and Impulse underground. They welcomed him warmly and mined with him, procuring loads of iron. While he was under there with them, they formed a silent alliance. It was something he had been wanting to ask, but it was better left unsaid as they traveled out of the dirt and stone caves and onto the top of the cherry mountain Gem had her eyes on since the beginning of the world. Impulse (enthusiastically) agreed, saying the cherry wood would make for beautiful houses. Scott couldn’t help but agree.

His task had been given to him earlier that day: “Build your base directly and obnoxiously attached to someone else's.” Simple enough, in his opinion. He and Gem started building, and they talked all the while.

“How’s the hanahaki?” Was the first thing she asked, because she was one of the few people he trusted to know about Jimmy. Scott sighed and put down his oak wood momentarily.

“Something weird’s going on, Gem,” he admitted. “I’ve coughed up a tulip.”

She gave him a weary look, like she was expecting him to tell her he was joking. He was not, and she seemed to get this after a few seconds when he said nothing. Gem hummed and went back to placing her roof. “I thought that you only coughed up poppies for him?”

“Me too, but apparently-” he threw out his arms in exaggeration. “The universe has decided to break its rules after two whole years!”

“Could it be something else?” She glanced at him, a gesture he didn’t miss. It was slight, and she went back to the building immediately after. “Maybe… someone else?”

It wasn’t the craziest theory she could have come up with. It seemed so alien to him though, coughing up flowers for two people (because he rarely used the word crush anymore, it seemed so trivial). He never had before, and he had no reason to believe it would start now. He couldn’t even pinpoint who the second person could be. His brain pushed forward a name, and he promptly pushed it back again. That would be insane. Shaking his head, he went back to (obnoxiously) connecting their houses.

“Unlikely. I’ve only ever… it’s always been him, y’know?”

“It won’t be him forever, Scott. You have to move on one day.”

Scott stopped and thought about that for a second. One day he would see him for the last time. One day he would have to let go of the poppy flowers, literally pull up roots and move on to another painful love story. One day the flowers would change to purple, yellow, blue, anything other than red.

One day he would be ok with that.

It was something he didn’t want to think about, because that meant losing him for a second time and Scott couldn’t deal with that. The current version of him couldn’t deal with that, anyway. He coughed a few times, feeling the full flower scratch his throat on the way up. Full flowers usually meant he should stop thinking for a bit.

He turned and smiled at Gem. “I will Gem, don’t worry. Oh look!” He pointed down from their roofs. “Skizz is here! Let’s go say hi!” Gem raised her eyebrow at the topic change, but didn’t say anything, which he took as a sign that she knew the conversation was over. Scott slid off the roof and onto the ground, settling himself in the softer patches of earth so he didn’t lose any hearts.

His brain had all of three seconds to focus on what Gem said before he made his way over to Skizz and Impulse, who were laughing together near the diving board Gem had constructed. She was right behind him, smiling all the while shooting him glances. Scott ignored it best he could.

“Skizz! Heya,” Scott greeted, trying his best to smile naturally. It seemed to pass, because the angel gave him a large smile back.

“Smajor!” He always had a habit of calling people by nicknames, and his had just turned out to be his last name. “Me ‘n Dipple Dop were just talking about how nice all your houses look.” Impulse—Dipple Dop, to Skizz—nodded, placing his hands on his hips. Scott smiled again.

“Thanks. I haven’t been to your place yet, where is it?”

“Oh, me and Top set up on the island down behind the secret keeper. It’s called ‘Love Island’.” Scott couldn’t help but snort at the name. At least his team had a better place than somewhere called ‘Love Island’. “Top’s trying to recruit more people right now, but it’s not going well.”

“Don’t expect me to be leaving my Scott’s!” Gem called over from where she was fixing her front door. Skizz looked up and saw Gem across the valley. He perked up, his halo bouncing an inch above his head.

“Gemstone! Just the girl I want to see!” Skizz gave him an apologetic smile and walked towards their combined houses (he noticed Gem was slowly moving her house away from his, and groaned internally).

“Who’s Top?” He asked Impulse, who was still looking after Skizz. Scott tried not to let a giggle slip through when Impulse smirked at him.

“Tango, Skizz calls him Tango Top.” Oh. Tango was teamed with Skizz, then. Scott felt a pang of jealousy deep in his gut, one that definitely shouldn’t have been there. There was a tickle at the bottom of his lungs, and he swallowed the cough. He had no reason to want to be around Tango, he had no reason to want to team with him. He shouldn’t care as much as he did, not about him. Tango was just some guy who was dating the person he threw up flowers for.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he said, turning back to his house. He had a task to complete after all, and it would be a distraction. All he had to do was move it to the side and then go hit the complete button, and it would all be fine.

He reminded himself that it was day two. Out of seven days this week, five of which he would spend wandering around and trying his best to avoid two of the most social people on the server. It would all be fine, eventually.

And it was fine, for a few days. He finished his task and gloated in Gems face, only for her to tell him she had finished her task right away and just had yet to turn it in. Over the few days he got accustomed to his new house, decorating the inside in classic Scott fashion. The garden outside (planted by Impulse) was beautiful too, and they even set up paths between the houses.

Gem said one day she would build a staircase up the side of their mountain, and he was excited for that prospect as well.

Multiple people came to visit, from Scar to Pearl to Joel. They all complimented the cottages, taking their own cherry saplings to spread them around the server. In the early days, he always ignored the fact they would all be killing each other. It was easier that way.

Jimmy and Tango came to visit on day six. He was so close to getting through the week, so close to being able to distract himself once more with a task and forget about his ever-growing crush. Still, they came all the same, waltzing up the mountain hand in hand.

When Scott saw them, he feigned he didn’t. Instead he went into his house like he had forgotten something, letting them wait outside for one of his teammates to get them and hopefully lead them away from his house. At one point he had shared his secret with Impulse, who sympathized with him heavily. He hated the sympathy, like he had just revealed himself as weak and needed to be taken care of. He did not need anything from anyone, he could manage properly on his own.

That was a lie, he needed someone to lead Jimmy and Tango’s voices away from his house and towards the other end of the map. He crouched next to his bed, listening to their voices and trying not to cough too loudly. They were conversing while walking around, trying to find anyone. It occurred to him that Impulse had gone to visit Skizz and Gem had gone to (finally) turn in her task from days ago. He was alone.

“...do you think they are?” Jimmy’s voice drifted through the open window above him. He closed his eyes and pushed a hand over his mouth, letting out a few half-hearted coughs.

“Gone, I bet,” Tango answered, seemingly farther away than his partner. Scott clung to the floorboards as something clawed at his throat. It seemed small and soft, in comparison to the poppies that wrecked him.

“Aww,” Jimmy groaned. “I wanted a tour of the mountain!”

“Jimmy, dear, I don’t think there's a lot to show off right now. We might have to come back later.”

Yes, please, Scott thought. Come back later, when I’m not here. He coughed openly this time, letting a few petals fill his mouth. They pressed against his cheek, inching towards the back of his throat and making him gag. Carefully, he reached into his mouth and gripped the flowers, taking the bitter taste they supplied away with him.

“Tomorrow then, on the off day.” Tango’s voice got farther away as he and Jimmy walked off. Scott sighed in relief, which triggered a chain reaction of heavy breathing and coughing. It was only then that he noticed his blurry vision, the feeling of tears streaming down his cheeks and down his neck. It all hurt so bad. The flowers, wrapping their roots around the bottom of his lungs squeezing every breath out of him before he could even get to it. Their stems and pistils engraving his windpipe with cuts and bruises. Sometimes it felt like something had finally gotten to his heart, squeezing it out of his chest while he keeled over.

It hurt his mind too, to know this was what he subjected himself too. He really didn’t have a choice though, did he? It would hurt much more, much deeper, to break up a happy relationship for selfish reasons. If it meant Jimmy was happy, he would suffer a thousand times over. It would be selfish and mean to think anything else. What he could do was try to forget and move on. It’s what would be best for everyone.

Even while the pile on the floor in front of him kept growing, he never lost the ability to breath. Small gasping breaths between waves while he grasped for anything he could reach to keep him upright. His hands gripped the windowsill, turning his knuckles white with the pressure. He breathed, in and out, so fast his head started to get woozy again. His vision swam, the pink of his floorboards mixing with the brown of his walls until they weren’t distinguishable. Scott tried to slow it down, but it wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t control himself anymore, simply letting his eyes close and tilting his whole head back for comfort.

When he finally stopped, calming down his breathing and wiping his face and neck free of tears (his makeup was sure to stain, but Gem had said she had an idea for new makeup to try tomorrow). He couldn’t get up, not yet, so instead he surveyed the mess in front of him.

Hundreds of poppies sat before him, fully formed and stained a darker red than normal. Along with them were the curious yellow petals, all by themselves. They were tulips, he remembered. Scott had always been interested in flowers, specifically the language. He remembered poppies meant death, though that wasn’t the reason that they were associated with Jimmy in his mind.

(A memory of two people in a cave. The winged one hands the elf a poppy, declaring their marriage. The elf is surprised, but agrees, and kisses his cheek.)

The yellow tulips, though, are a different story. He has to think a moment before he remembers what they mean: jealousy. It’s fitting, he supposes. Jealous of all he didn’t have, jealous of the affection and attention he didn’t have a hope of receiving. Jealous that Tango had Jimmy and Jimmy had Tango-

No, that last part wasn’t quite right. He brushed it from his mind and started picking the flower pile apart. All of them were torn or broken in some way, whether it be a missing petal or a snapped stem. All the same, they were thrown out when he had the energy to stand. The tulips too, though he wished he could study those more. Maybe the flowers could give him some answer on how to get rid of this stupid crush, on how to get rid of every lovestruck thought he had and how to live in peace with himself.

Flowers couldn’t talk though, so into the garbage they went. He could barely stand by the time he was done with the four trips it took. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that Impulse arrived home, waving at him from next to the diving board. Scott waved back, wiping his cheeks fretfully in fear of leftover makeup.

Impulse didn’t notice, just walking past him with a grin and into his own house. Scott let out a breath, flopping over onto the ground outside of his house. He didn’t think he could talk anyway, with how his throat was. If this was how it would go, trying to hide his flowers from his friends everyday, it was bound to be a miserable season. Scott sat there for a while, soaking in the remaining sunlight.

Gem got home at some point, also retreating to her house. What took her so long to submit a task, he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he wanted to. She only glanced at him and sent a reassuring smile, which he weakly returned.

Scott’s com buzzed in his pocket when it was almost completely dark. He recognized the ringtone, one that was only used for private messages. He took it out and paled at the message.

Jimmy Solidarity- I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you avoid me

It took him a few seconds to absorb the message, to actually get what was being said. He laughed out loud when he did, because how could Jimmy ever think this was his fault? His laughter died down as quickly as it had come, leaving him in awkward silence with himself. The wind howled past his ears, singing a mournful song of coming snow. He sighed, shivered, and went inside. Replies were for tomorrow, tonight was for sleeping.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks. Jimmy hadn’t seen Scott for the entirety of the games, save for the circle at the start, and the one interaction later the same day. He was worried he had done something wrong, something that made the elf not want to be around him anymore. He just couldn’t fathom what it could be.

He had tried asking around, of course. First it was Martyn, his teammate, who just shrugged and told him it would pass. Next it was Pearl and Cleo, both separately telling him neither had seen a lot of Scott this season either. This both worried him and calmed him. If Scott was avoiding everyone, then it wasn’t his fault. But it also meant that Scott was isolating himself (again, this had happened before) from everyone, and that wasn’t much better.

He remembered after each season, where he would go into isolation for different reasons. The only ones he was sure of was Last Life, where he felt so bad about killing Ren and Martyn that he wouldn’t talk to anyone about it, and Double Life, when he was worried he had ruined his friendship with Pearl.

It took him weeks to return from his spirals, usually thinner and paler than before. Jimmy worried for him during these times, and he tried to help. Scott wouldn’t accept help from him, never him. They were still friends though, still platonic husbands (he still flushed whenever he thought of the weeks they had shared in Third Life).

Finally, he asked Impulse and Gem. They shared a worried look, though they tried to hide it from him. He tilted his head, his wings twitching slightly behind his back. He relaxed them, dragging the tips along the ground for some kind of unwinding feeling.

“He’s… he’s doing ok, Jim,” Gem answered, and while her body language was confident, her voice failed her. He raised an eyebrow at both of them, crossing his arms.

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen him in two weeks,” Jimmy responded, trying to subtly crane his neck to see behind them. Impulse blocked his path, imp tail flicking around his feet.

“We’re sure, Jimmy. He doesn’t want to see people right now,” Impulse softened, uncreasing his brow and setting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll come get you when he asks, got it?” Jimmy nodded, brushing Impulse's hand off his shoulder and heading off. He had failed his task for the week as of yesterday (getting someone to say ‘get out of here!’ was harder than it sounded), so he had nothing specifically to do. He found himself wandering towards the secret keeper and its surrounding areas, and away from the cherry mountain.

He landed on Love Island, or the Heart Foundation, or whatever team name his boyfriend and Skizz had chosen. Tango was across the island, sitting on the ground with his feet in the water. He made his way over, trying to keep a smile on his face the whole time and making enough noise that Tango knew he was there. He had learned that his boyfriend was very adverse to it.

“Hey, Rancher,” Jimmy said, sitting down next to him. They still called each other Rancher from time to time, just as a term of endearment. Tango turned and grinned at him, red pupils (though covered by a gloss of green) getting just a bit wider.

“Jimmy! You didn’t tell me you were coming over!” He slightly positioned his hand so it would be easy for Jimmy to hold on the ground, and he did, curling their fingers together.

“I didn’t know I was coming over!” He laughed. “I’m just wandering around.” The smile slipped from his face slightly when he remembered why he was just wandering around. Tango obviously noticed, because he squeezed his hand and scooted just a bit closer.

“What’s up, buttercup?” His voice was soft and comforting, always something Jimmy could trust to sooth him. He let out the tension being held in his shoulders and leaned back on his hands. Tango’s tail flicked, the fire at the tip passing over his wing. It never burned, only felt vaguely hot.

“It’s Scott. He’s avoiding me again, and it’s just… I don’t know if he wants to be my friend anymore? He always does this, and I get that he could be having a hard time, but it feels targeted at me specifically.” Jimmy groaned and laid all the way backwards, with his arms and wings splayed out. “I miss him.”

“Oh Jimmy,” Tango looked at him from where he was still sitting. “Why would anyone want to avoid you? I’m sure he’s just going through a hard time. I can try to visit him tomorrow, if he doesn’t want to see you?”

“I don’t know if Gem and Impulse will let you…” He grumbled, eyes closing against the setting sun.

“It’s Impy! He can’t say no to me!” Tango laughed, turning around to sit criss crossed and dragging a hand through Jimmy’s wing. His tail fluttered around again. “I’ll make sure he's alright, then report back to you. Promise.”

“Thanks Tango,” Jimmy sighed, smiling up at him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

+++++

Scott woke up on the third week with his task book on his nightstand. It had been filled out anew, by the game mechanics, which meant he had something new to fulfill this week. He dragged himself out of bed and rubbed his eyes, smudging his eye makeup from last night he forgot to take off. His hands came back stained cyan, but he just wiped it on his pants and told himself he’d clean it later.

Taking the book in his hands, he opened to the third set of pages. He hoped he didn’t have a social task again, it was draining to be around people so much when he was in a depressive state again (this was the worst it had gotten in a while, but he wasn’t about to think about that). Last week he had to have conversations with people and then leave halfway through, which not only made him talk to people, but also run around the server to get away from said people. It was fine though, as long as he didn’t…

Say "love you" to three people and get them to say it back without asking them to.

More people. He calmed his breathing, which had sped up unintentionally, and focused on the words again. It definitely had to be three separate people, but Gem and Impulse could cover two of them. Then he would only have to find one more, preferably someone he trusted. Lizzie, maybe, or Cleo? Although, Skizz was likely to say it back because that’s just how he was.

He didn’t think of two people in his silent brainstorm, keeping them firmly at his mind's edge. Both of them, which wasn’t strange at all. Tango just made him think of him.

His chest tightened slightly, then loosened. He huffed an angry laugh and snapped the book shut, opening his door and greeting his bandmates. They both had their tasks already as well, and while they trusted each other fully, Scott couldn’t help but eye them suspiciously. Maybe he could catch someone this week and get one of the yellows to guess their task.

Scott quickly showed them the mob spawner he had found while mining the other day (because really, what else could take up his time?), and they all talked about turning it into a farm. Any enchantment was allowed and levels would make it all the easier.

As they made their way back to the surface, Scott’s stomach growled. He ignored it, breakfast wasn’t needed. He would grab an apple as a snack before he went searching for people.

“Well, I need to visit the secret keeper,” Gem announced, turning towards the side of the mountain and starting down it. Impulse and Scott gaped at her, and she just turned back up at them and grinned.

“Already?” Impulse asked, shuffling his feet.

“Why?” Scott asked, because it was all he could think.

“It’s a secret, obviously!” Gem chuckled, enunciating every syllable of the last word. She turned back. Scott saw a window of opportunity and took it.

“Bye Gem!” He called, waving. “Love you!”

“Love you too!” She yelled back, lowering herself down a particularly large rock. He smiled, ticking down one person in his mind. This task might be easier (and less flowery) than expected. Maybe he could stay on the mountain all week and it would be fine.

But no, he had agreed to go to the Nether with Gem. That didn’t mean he couldn't stay when he wasn’t doing that, though. It was night time before he got the second person to say it back. Impulse and Gem had been gone all day, while he stayed. It was getting boring, but it saved his lungs and throat from potential harm. That was better than anything.

Cleo and Martyn came rolling in while he was talking to Impulse, and while he got a love you back from Cleo, Martyn said nothing back when he called out.

Scott did his best to stay away from people, even when he and Gem went to the Nether. It ended with a life lost on her part, and he felt sorry for it. He could have protected her better (even if she insisted she didn’t need it) if he didn’t constantly have his head wrapped around trying not to think. When they arrived back home, she assured him it was fine, she would be ok, and he shouldn’t blame himself. Still, a small splinter of shame sat in his gut.

(He couldn’t protect her, just like he couldn’t protect the canary back in the desert.)

The next day he was called to spawn. As was everyone else, of course, he just didn’t want to go. Begrudgingly, Gem dragged him down, and he met the rest of the server there. They stayed on the edges of the circle that was created around the pillar, waiting to see what Joel would do. He spent the time whispering to Gem about it, and she eagerly whispered back. He snuck glances around the circle, observing each of his friends, eyes landing on blonde hair and wings.

He had been able to calm the flowers in the past weeks, so much so that the only thing he felt currently was a small twinge in his gut and an itch in his lungs.

Joel jumped off of the pillar, and his attention was drawn back to it. Everyone around him gasped, and his mouth dropped open when he hit the ground and his body melted away. Scott just stood there in shock, frozen to the ground.

He comes off of his mountain for the first time in a week, and he watches someone die. Fantastic.

Joel instantly reappeared nearby, at spawn. He started assuring everyone that he was fine, just angry. Lizzie comforted him while he pressed the fail button, and Joel comforted Grian as he, too, had to press the fail button. Scott got a good giggle out of it, even if it was a bit sad.

Most people lingered around spawn, talking about completed tasks and other such things. Gem had gone off to talk to Pearl, and Scott was about ready to go home anyway. He raised himself up onto his skeleton horse and was about to start riding back when he felt a tap on his leg. Looking down, he could see an anxious Jimmy and an unimpressed Tango.

His lungs took in less air.

“Hey Scott!” Jimmy started. He looked hesitant to talk, but Scott gave him a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to check in on you. We haven’t seen much of you since this game started!”

We being him and Tango. Scott exhaled and tried to keep a pleasant expression on his face. “I’m doing fine, Jimmy. Thanks.” He kept his answer short, because he could feel his throat closing. He swallowed, opening it up again.

“That’s good. I was a little worried,” Jimmy admitted. Scott remembered the message he had sent at the end of week one, and smiled despite himself. Jimmy was worried about him. He didn’t want Jimmy to worry, but he took anything he could get.

“I’m fine, Jimmy, I swear.”

“Great! I’ll see you, then?”

Something overtook him then, a strong idea that wouldn’t let him go. If he could get Jimmy to say ‘love you’ back, maybe it would all go away. Maybe he could finish his task and get rid of the hanahaki all in one go, get rid of something that had plagued his life for so long.

“Bye, love you!” He directed it at both of them, riding towards the secret keeper.

No response. Scott choked on his own breath, feeling the poppies invade his mouth and throat. They were so insistent that as soon as he was sure no one was looking, he shuffled behind the secret keeper, got off his horse, and started the ritual of coughing up a lung.

It was bloody this time, bloodier than what was normal. He didn’t have time to think though, because another wave of nausea hit him and he was on his hands and knees, pressing his forehead against the ground in an effort to stop the flowers from streaming up his throat. Something pressed to his windpipe from the inside, and he stopped coughing for long enough that he could reach into his throat and grab the end.

A full poppy came out, covered in skin and blood. He opened his mouth to breathe, but that hurt, so he clamped it shut and sat up. His throat was on fire, and he probably couldn’t talk for a while until it healed.

Scott heard a shuffle of grass to his left, and he lazily leaned his head back to check who it was. He caught red eyes and a fiery tail before he closed his eyes and swallowed the tickle against his bronchi. He heard Tango shift closer, and then a hand against his hair, pushing the strands stuck to his forehead out of the way.

“Are you ok?” He heard the blaze ask, and that was all he needed to start wheezing again.

Chapter Text

Tango peeked behind the rocks that held up the secret keeper. He had told Jimmy that, since he neglected to check up on Scott earlier in the week, he would do it then. He had seen him duck behind the rocks and slip off his horse. He didn’t expect what he saw when he perused the elf. 

Scott was breathing heavily with his head against the rocks, eyes closed. At his feet were a pile of petals that seemed to have come from nowhere. The stems were out of sight, the leaves that surely should have come with them missing. 

Scott shifted his head to gaze at him for a split second, before he closed his eyes and grit his teeth. A hand went to his chest, and Tango wasn’t even sure he was aware he was doing it. He hesitantly sat down in front of him, brushing the flowers out of the way. Scott’s forehead was shining with sweat, and before he could actually think about what he was doing, he swept the hair stuck there away. 

“Are you ok?” He whispered, hoping for a response. Instead, Scott started to cough and wheeze, clutching at his chest and heaving over. Tango caught him before he collapsed on the rocks, keeping him upright (as upright as you can be while sitting). He only seemed to cough harder, covering his mouth with a hand to keep something in. 

All he could do was watch him shake in his arms, body wracked by coughing fits. He didn’t hold him too close, he didn’t know if Scott would be comfortable with that, he didn’t know if he himself would be comfortable with that. All the same, he keeps him firmly upright until he calms down, coughs only coming in small bursts instead of a constant stream. Then Tango sits him up, looks him in the eyes, and once again asks, “Are you ok?”

Scott doesn’t respond. Instead he clutches something in his hands, crushing it between his fingers so tight that red liquid comes out. For a second, he thinks it’s blood, that Scott’s hurting himself on accident. But no, it’s too light, not viscous enough to be blood. Slowly, Tango reaches forward, trying to take one of Scott’s hands in his own. He flinches away, scooting back against the rocks and hiding his face. Tango still hears the small noise that escapes him though, another cough. 

He lets his hand drop to his side, brush against the grass and take some in his hands. The blades are soft against his hands, or maybe his hands are just so used to hard things he can’t remember what soft feels like. Either way, he rolls them up and crushes them between the pad of his forefinger and thumb. The green juice leaks out of his hand, just like the red the sits in Scott’s palm. Tango sighs and looks up at the figure who is clearly trying to stay away from him.

“Look, Scott,” He starts, “Jimmy’s worried about you. Most of the server is. Usually during these games you are more social and happier, and I haven't seen you be either during the three weeks we’ve been here. You need to tell someone what’s wrong, or else we can’t help.”

No response. Tango rests his head on the rock behind it. 

“Jimmy told me this happens with you, you know. Closing yourself off from the world for a while. He knows you like the back of his hand. He says you’re his best friend, minus Grian and Joel. I saw how close you two can be. You don’t have to talk to me, but please, just talk to him. He misses you.”

A small sniffle comes from the blue haired elf, covered up quickly by a louder, painful sounding cough. Tango winces at the same time Scott does. He sees something red around his chest, before it’s snatched up by the same hands that crushed everything else. More red comes as a result, and he isn’t quite sure if it isn’t blood anymore. 

Tango sits there, waiting for something from Scott. He watches the grass sway in the wind slowly, methodically. It has a calming effect on his mind, and he relaxes his shoulders. He didn’t realize they were tense, but when they drop from his shoulder, he feels a whole lot calmer. He decides Scott won’t speak to him, and starts to shove himself off the ground.

“Wait,” a small voice says. Tango lifts his head to look at Scott, who has done the same. He sucks in a small breath, because in the few minutes he couldn’t see his face, it got worse. His lips, usually a faint pink, are stained red. His cheeks somehow look gaunt, sunken in and shallow. His eyes have dulled, they used to be bright blue but have faded to a dull gray. Tango isn’t sure how it’s possible, but he’s sitting right in front of him. 

“Tell Jimmy I’m sorry.” Tango cocks his head, lowering himself down again.

“Sorry for what?”

Scott gulps. “I can’t tell you that, Tango.” He looks like he is physically holding back another round of coughs, another instance of something red ripping it’s way from his mouth. Tango holds back a shudder at the thought it is blood, a steady stream of it, coming from him. Scott doesn’t look injured.

“You can try?” He offers. Scott shakes his head, clearly intent on the answer being no. Tango furrows his brows, reaching out to lay his hand on Scott’s shoulder. Scott swallows and tilts his head back, shaking it more.

“No, Tango, I-” And then he’s coughing again, and it isn’t red this time, but yellow. Tango watches in horror as Scott doubles over and something yellow—a flower petal, or maybe a whole flower, he doesn’t have time to see—falls from his lips. He snatches it up, crushing it in his hands. His hands are orange now. 

Tango reaches out and this time, he doesn’t flinch back. He offers his hands out, uncurling the finger to reveal dozens of petals and full flowers, mostly poppies, crushed and bleeding out. They have crescent scars across the surfaces, no doubt from his fingernails. Joining then are what looks like yellow petals, but he can’t tell what kind. Tango was never good at flowers, not the way Jimmy is. Not the way Scott is.

Tango picks at the pile, finding at least one petal that isn’t crushed. He raises it to his face, examining the curves of it, the small smudges of some other red thing across it, the way it fades from red to white at the base unlike normal poppy flowers. Placing it back in his hands, he looks at Scott. Scott looks back, slightly horrified.

“What-” his voice falters. “What is this?”

His tail flicks around the grass, leaving some of it charred. Scott doesn’t notice. Tango’s heart skips a beat, certainly in a bad way, in a scared way, when Scott looks at him and gives him a weak smile.

“You know I’m sick Tango?” He asks. Tango shakes his head. “I am. I’m sick, I have been my whole life.” His voice sounds like it’s coming through a TV screen, like not all of it is there anymore. “It’s chronic, it won’t go away. I’m stuck like this. I cough, and I cough, and I cough, and it’s never enough. They always keep coming.” Scott smiles, showing off his teeth, and it doesn’t feel correct. Somethings wrong, and maybe it’s the red staining his teeth and lips, but maybe it’s something more. “The flowers grow inside me. My lungs.”

Tango’s blood runs cold. The idea of another species, a plant growing inside you and forcing its way out, it’s unbearable to think about. He sets his hand at his own throat, feeling the slow expansion of his chest on his wrist and his pulse at his fingertips. Does Scott breathe slower when something foreign lives inside him?

“Why?” He chokes out, feeling his own throat close up around the word. Scott laughs, actually laughs, at his question.

“Because, Tango,” a small silence, followed by a cough. “I’m in love, and I can't get out.”

+++++

Scott’s not exactly sure why he tells Tango everything. He feels floaty, like nothing he does matters and he’ll come back down the exact moment he left, the moment when Tango first asked if he was ok. Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe it’s a nightmare.

Maybe it's a lack of oxygen.

Whatever it is, his truth is out in the world now. He watches silently, laughing to himself and painfully keeping the flowers down, as Tango tries to puzzle out what he means. Breathless Scott thinks it’s cute when he’s confused. Fully conscious Scott would repress a thought like that, but he can’t repress anything except the tickles in his throat and the fits threatening to bubble up and out his mouth. He takes a shuddering breath, his first in a few minutes. It’s hard to get the air down his windpipe.

Finally he decides Tango can’t figure it out and looks him in the eyes, silently asking the question he had been expecting. With who? Who’s doing this to you? Scott lets his head fall back, cracking against the rock, not hard enough to break anything but enough to hurt. The pounding drags him back down a bit.

“And you won’t believe it when I tell you who,” Scott breathes, letting out a mixture of laughter and choking noises. There's a second where he can’t breath, and he tries to take air in and it doesn’t work, he’s drowning, he’s going to die-

In and out. Inhale and exhale. Expand and contract. He catches his breath, his thoughts catching up as well. They aren’t much, but the panic is gone.

Tango gives him a second to catch up to the real world again. He gives him a second before he asks anything, presses again about the vagueness of whatever the hell he’s been saying. He can’t remember anymore.

“Who?” He asks softly, barely above a whisper. Scott laughs, and his head starts pounding harder. 

“Fucking Jimmy.” Tango’s mouth shapes into a small ‘o’. Scott can’t tell if it's good or bad, but he can tell another tulip petal has somehow gotten to his mouth. “Would you believe it if I said it has been going on for two years?”

It's silent. Scott doesn’t dare look at Tango, he can’t bring himself to see the hurt on his face. Hurting Tango might be worse than coughing up flowers forever. It might be worse than waiting for the flowers to painfully go away.

He would cough up flowers forever to keep Tango happy. 

The blaze stands. Scott ignores it. He mumbles something about finding Gem and Jimmy, and a spike of panic goes through his gut. “Don’t tell him,” he mumbles gracelessly.

“...I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I can’t promise you anything.” It’s good enough. Scott thinks it’s good enough. 

Tango is gone, and his mind is a blur. It seems like only a second before Gem is there, beside him, comforting him as tears stream down his face. His head is light, and it feels like he’ll faint at any moment. 

The next memory he has is of up on the cherry mountain, carried by Impulse into his house. He doesn’t think of Impulse or Gem, who was by his side the whole time, but of Tango. He imagines the look of hurt on his face that he didn’t see. Did his eyes gloss up? Did he look angry? Did his hair spark and flame? 

He sleeps. He doesn’t dream. He wakes up and his head is grounded, it doesn’t feel light anymore. Scott sits up, and he falls back down. Something flutters around his head, a spark of yellow. Flowers coat his pillows, his blankets, the floor next to his bed. Yellow tulips.

Tulips for Tango.

Chapter Text

It had been five days since Scott had woken up surrounded by yellow flowers. Three days since he had finally completed his task. And one day since he had finally accepted he was in love with two people.

Scott wasn’t quite sure if it was love per say, but it had to at least be strong feelings. Otherwise he wouldn’t be doubled over at every passing thought of either of them, of fire or feathers.

That was another thing. The Hanahaki was getting worse. It was more sensitive, more frequent throughout his days. He didn’t even have to interact with either of them anymore, just think of them too long and some red or yellow flower would pry its way out of his mouth. It was unhelpful and annoying.

He realized he at least liked Tango the fourth day (Sunday, yet again) he woke up in a bed of flowers. Not literally, his own bed was still under there, pillows and mattress and sheets. But the tulips coated it again and again, night after night, and although he couldn’t remember most of the dreams he had, he remembered these ones like memories.

He and Jimmy and Tango, together. Together, at the after-game parties. Together, at the dinner table, talking about their days. Together, waking up in the morning to see both of them.

He didn’t know what he was more freaked out about, the fact he was coughing up so many flowers or the fact he had just discovered he was polyamorous. Both were a bit of a shock. He couldn’t think about either much, because it didn’t come with nice reciprications, but he tried his best to work through the new discovery. Multiple times Gem and to stop him from zoning out and tell him to focus. It was fruitless on her end, because he couldn’t focus on anything but what was happening to him. He had to take breaks often that Sunday.

Monday came. It seemed the world had it out for him, because he opened his task book to see Tango’s name smashed right between Impulse and Bdubs. He felt dizzy immediately, and Impulse took away his task book.

Tango didn’t touch him that week. He wasn’t sure if it was the confession he had made, or just the fact it was never convenient for Tango to tag him, he was unsure. Most of the first half of the week, until Wednesday, was a blur anyway. His mind was left reeling by relizations, and he found himself more and more ignoring the present and living in the past or the future. The past resulted in breaking down, more often than not in public with no one who knew what was going on (he stuck with Impulse a lot during the week, in case anything happened), while the future resulted in late nights, lying in bed alone.

He found himself choking more. He had never felt like he was choking before, but now it was nearly a daily occurrence. He would cough and cough and then stop, try to break in, and nothing would happen. No air would fill his lungs, just twisting flowers of yellow and red. Scott didn’t like when this happened, and he liked it even less when someone caught this happening. Gem told him that it was probably the newer influx of flowers based on being in Jimmy’s proximity, and he started to believe it himself. It wasn’t like it would kill him, the chronic condition wasn’t like that.

The second half of the week went slower. He focused more on Impulse and the game of tag. He laughed, joked, and almost forgot about what had been troubling him. It was the happiest he had been in a while, especially when he won the tag game, and Impulse congratulated him with a big hug. He hugged back, laughing and grinning the whole time. Gem later told him it was the first time she had seen him smile the whole time. People still asked if he was fine, but now he appreciated it instead of annoyed him. To everyone else, it looked like he was recovering from a tough episode.

Scott knew that wasn’t quite it. He was never fully happy, there was always a feeling inside him that something was missing. He had just chosen to ignore it lately and try to avoid the people who made him feel like this.

He didn’t see red and yellow flowers until Sunday, when Jimmy came to visit.

Scott was chatting with Gem, while she sat next to the fire pit with him, shining her sword. They had talked about nothing really, just news from their respective home servers and the in between. Scott shared that Fwhip was making a new home for the Empires people, and she expressed her excitement over her newest Hermitcraft ideas. He was mid laugh, covering his mouth with his hand, when he saw him, standing behind Gem.

Jimmy fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt, focused on them at the fire. Scott stopped laughing instantly, instead covering his mouth for a different reason. One of them wasn’t enough, he wouldn’t start choking. He could carry a normal conversation. So he raised his hand in greeting, calling out to the red name. “Jimmy, heya!”

Jimmy grinned like a child (which Scott found incredibly endearing) and made his way over. Gem gave Scott a look, but he gave her a thumbs up. She knew she could leave, so she stood and offered her seat to the canary. He took it graciously, and Gem nodded with a slight smile.

“Do you need something?” Scott asked, and couldn’t help letting out a small cough when his throat tickled. If Jimmy noticed, he said nothing.

“I don’t, actually. I just miss you, and wanted to catch up!” Jimmy’s smiled faltered a bit. “Unless now is not a good time, I can leave-“

“Jimmy,” Scott said, reaching out to place a hand on his knee. He retracted it instantly, both because it felt weirdly intimate and because it made his throat seize up. “Now is fine.”

“Ok, yeah. How are you?” He asked. Scott smiled sweetly, thinking over his past week.

“I’ve been ok. I’m enjoying this game, aren’t you?” Jimmy nods at the question.

“I am! I liked teaming with Martyn in Last Life, honestly I’m not sure why I haven’t done a second season with him until now!” Scott feels his stomach flip when he thinks about how Jimmy hasn’t teamed up with him for a second time, but then he remembers that's of his own accord. He doesn’t team up with people twice, that’s his rule. He could make one exception, maybe, for future games.

“That’s great, Jimmy-“ he coughs. “-I’m glad you're having fun.”

Jimmy looks at him a little concerned. “Are you ok? You’ve been coughing a lot recently.” Scott swallows another and attempts a smile, but it’s really more of a grimace.

“I’m fine, really,” he answers, silently digging his nails into the log he’s sitting on. Jimmy can't know, it’s absolutely against the rules he’s put in place for himself. Jimmy sits forward and pulls his hand on Scott’s shoulder, opening his mouth to say something, and he can’t help it anymore.

He covers his face and starts coughing violently, letting out small strained breaths in between. They almost squeak, but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about that until later. The whole time he can feel petals flying out of his mouth, sticking to his lips, blood red against soft pink-

And again, he’s choking. Scott cannot break, no matter how hard he tries. His hands go up and grab at his throat, like that will help anything.

It stops all at once. He takes small rasping breaths that turn into quick breaths that turn into slowed breaths. He can feel a hand on his shoulder, and he leans into it to keep himself up. Vaguely in the background is yelling, but he’s so lightheaded he can barely hear it, let alone comprehend it.

Red is laid out in front of him, coating his lap and the ground. Not all of it is flowers. He lets go of his throat and reaches up to his lips, and his fingers come away sticky. He looks at them for a solid minute, comprehending that there was enough blood this time to coat his fingers. It’s the same color as Jimmy is, and when he thinks that he lets out a small giggle. Jimmy. In front of him.

He’s thrown back into reality, a hand on each shoulder and a man talking to him at lighting speed.

“-ou ok, oh my god I thought you were dying or already dead. Maybe I had accidentally killed you! Why are you throwing up flowers? Coughing up? Whatever, I just want to help, if you tell me how to help and if you’re ok I can-“

Scott puts a (blood coated) finger to his lips. Jimmy looks unfazed by the blood part of this, just simply shutting his mouth and listening.

“Jimmy, I’m so sorry.” His voice is hoarse, and he winces when he hears it. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“What is this, what’s going on?” He’s still in a state of panic. Most of the flowers on the ground around his lap are stepped on or broken now.

“I-“ He can’t be saying this, but he had too. “I have Hanahaki. Chronic, it can’t be fixed. I do… this a lot.” He gestured to the flowers. Jimmy looks like he’s processing this for a second, before he furrows his brows.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Scott can tell from the tone of his voice that he's actually sad he didn’t tell him. “I could have… why are you doing this now?”

“Doing what?”

“Scott, who are the flowers for?” Ah, so Jimmy knows how this works. Scott was banking on him having no idea. He tries to find an excuse, just someone that he can say. He knows that he can’t just say anyone, because Jimmy will start trying to get them together in his Jimmy way, and he doesn't want to drag anyone else into this. He can’t tell the truth, not the whole truth, because Jimmy will say no. There is one thing he can say.

“Tango!” He spits out before he can actually think about saying it. He blushes and puts his hands over his face, sure that he’s made a mistake. He can feel the hands retract from his shoulders, and the warmth from his friend leave the area. When he finally had the courage to open his eyes, Jimmy’s looking at him like he’s seen a two headed monster. Scott just vaguely reaches for him, but he takes another step back.

“I see.” Is all he says, then he turns away. Scott can’t do anything. He just watches the canary leave, through the gate and down the stairs. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breath, doesn’t think, because if he does it will hurt like it’s never hurt before.

Eventually he finds himself in his bed. He doesn’t know how he got there, or why he’s crying, but he is and that’s that. Scott falls asleep soon after that, canceling out all the things he needs to think about. He doesn’t get up for his task the next day, in fact, he stays in bed until Tuesday.

At least Jimmy and Tango will both avoid him now.

Chapter Text

Jimmy felt bad. He was sure Scott did too. He hadn’t meant to get so mad earlier in the week. Scott's confession had just surprised him. He knew he had over reached, and he needed to remedy it. Which was how he found himself creeping up the stairs towards the cherry grove in the early morning on a Thursday. 

The stairs under him (made by Gem, no doubt) creaked as he climbed them. Jimmy winced everytime they did, worried that he would have a few confused and armored band members kill him at the top of the stairs. Technically, they couldn’t attack him if he didn’t try anything first, but that did nothing to calm his worries. He was red now, and could feel his final death coming soon. He was twitcher, more cautious and skittish around anyone. His wings would flatten themselves against his back at odd moments, which was usually a way he would use them to protect himself. But he really only had to last one more week to fix things.

He made it to the top of the mountain, taking a second to catch his breath. Cherry blossoms fell from the trees, drifting through the morning breeze dreamily. On top of the mountain felt like a paradise, and maybe it would stay that way. Jimmy wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.

Three quaint cottages stood, tucked between trees with a simple path connected. They looked more orange than pink in the morning light. Jimmy knew which one was Scott’s, he’d been around enough looking for him to know where he lived. He would be awake, because he was never sleeping in the mornings. At least, that’s what Jimmy remembered from 3rd Life. Scott had always gotten up early and started working in the flower valley. Jimmy had worried about him, wondering if he was getting enough sleep at night to function. He was assured that his husband was fine, not to worry at all. Still, there were nights Scott had knocked on his door and asked to sleep with him because he couldn’t on his own.

Jimmy missed the flower valley almost as much as he missed the ranch. Both places were so dear to his heart, places where he had gotten close to two people who were so important to him. Of course, he could still see said people (even if one didn’t want to currently see him) but the places still held so much meaning. Grian had given him access to the old servers as a ghost so he could see them, like good best friends do. Sometimes he caught Grian himself visiting the cactus ring.

Approaching the cottage to the far right, he rapped quietly twice on the door. His wings twitched with each knock, fluffing up nervously. He forced them back down before the door swung open, Scott standing there pinching his nose bridge sleepily.

“Impulse, I swear if you’re waking me up again to—” Scott looked up. “Oh.”

Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, uh, I have a few things to say.” Scott looked like he was contemplating closing the door, leaving Jimmy out in the (slightly cold) wind. Instead, he swallowed and opened the door wider, letting him come in. Jimmy obliged slowly, taking the house around him in for the first time. It was simple, simpler than most interiors his friend made, but cozy nonetheless. Scott sat on the small couch (more of a loveseat) and gestured to the armchair nearby. Jimmy sat down, slumping in on himself and leaning his head back into the plush back of the armchair.

Scott didn’t say anything. Jimmy was expecting him to say something first, mainly because he was too scared to do so himself, but one glance at Scott proved him wrong. He was holding a hand against his chest, obviously trying to cough. Puzzle pieces clicked into place in his brain, and Jimmy let out a small gasp.

“Oh no, oh wait, I make you think of him don’t I?” His eyes met Scotts, who nodded in earnest. “Do you want me to leave? I don’t want to cause any harm, we can do this over the coms, I’m so sorry-” Scott coughed, once, twice, and a few petals fluttered to the ground. He snatched them up, and kept the hand close to his chest.

“It’s fine, as long as you can deal with me coughing up flowers all over the place.” Scott gave him a weak smile, some of the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. Jimmy subconsciously relaxed too, letting out a breath and taking a few more for the sake of it. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Jimmy glances at Scott, who's listening to him intently. He looks away again, back at his hands, trying to ignore the way that makes him feel. “Well, first of all, I wanted to say sorry. I shouldn’t have run away last week, that was unfair of me. I should have heard you out, had you explain what was actually going on instead of assuming anything at all-”

“It’s fine, Jimmy. I’m assuming that's what you came to talk about?” Scott smiles at him, visibly holding back a few flowers. Jimmy wished he didn’t have to go through this much pain.

“I-yeah. Yeah, it is.” Jimmy takes yet another deep breath. “I think we should talk to Tango.”

Scott visibly chokes on his flowers, so much so that he doubles over. Jimmy immediately gets out of his chair and kneels next to him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it. Strangely, this time, the flowers are both yellow and red. He mostly ignores this. Finally, Scott repairs himself enough to choke out an “I’m sorry?”

“I think we should talk to..him.” It seems to have less of an effect when he doesn’t use his boyfriend's name. “Not now, but maybe this Sunday? It’s a free day, we can talk to him and try to clear some things up? It’s fine if you don’t want to, but I don’t want you to be in pain like this for much longer.”

“Jimmy,” Scott’s smile is sad. “Do you know how hanahaki works?”

Jimmy, blushing in embarrassment (and maybe a little at the soft disposition of Scott’s words) shakes his head. Scott puts a hand over his mouth, a sign that he’s silently laughing. Jimmy hits him lightly on the shoulder.

“Oi! Don’t laugh at me!” Scott laughs harder.

“‘Oi’? You should like Joel!” He gets out, now audibly laughing. Jimmy can’t help but smile, letting out a few giggles himself. They calm down after a minute, and the tension in the air before parts for a far happier air. “Ok, wait. You do know it doesn’t go away when you tell the person, right?” Scott’s grinning ear to ear.

“It doesn't?” Jimmy lifts himself up onto the love seat, leaning against the arm closest to him. 

Scott shakes his head. “No, it only goes away if the person likes you back, or if you lose feelings. For the chronic disease anyway. The temporary disease is more…complex.” Jimmy nods. “I still think it would be a good idea for us to talk to him.” Him being Tango. Him being Jimmy’s boyfriend. Him being the person Scott has a crush on. Something inside him doesn’t like that thought, and he decides it’s because he doesn’t want Tango to leave him. Jimmy knows he won’t though, because that’s simply not something he would do. And he has to believe that.

“Of course,” Jimmy nods his head again. He stands from the loveseat and walks towards the door, taking one last glance back at the elf. He looks vaguely sad and regretful, hands wrapped around his stomach in a hug. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

He doesn’t stay to hear an answer, if there was any.

+++++

Jimmy didn’t make it to Sunday. 

Saturday evening rolled around, and Scott was caught in a chase. The wither was right behind him, and he was acting as a distraction while everyone else attacked it. Silently, he was cursing Grian and Etho for even doing this. They should have just failed their tasks.

His com buzzed. He felt it against his pocket, but whatever sound it made was drowned out by another explosion, another buzz, a flash of lightning in the sky. A wither skull flew so close to his ear that he could feel the air next to it. Scott tried not to think about dying as he turned and ran back another way. 

Something loud behind him yelled out, maybe an instruction, maybe a warning, maybe a scream of pain. Maybe it was just the Wither and he couldn’t differentiate between anything in his panic.

Minutes went by. Just as he was about to collapse, about to just let himself lose his green life, he could hear cheers. The sky lightened, and a single shining star fell to the ground behind him. Scott himself fell, scraping his knees through his jeans. The grass was pulled up everywhere, whether from explosions or frantic shoes, so he pressed his forehead against dirt and rocks. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

There were people around him. He couldn't focus on their voices too much, just trying to keep himself from passing out due to exhaustion. The dirt threw up dust when he breathed out heavily, making him close his eyes. They stung, but he didn’t have the energy to care or fix it.

Scott found the energy, somewhere, to turn over a lie on his back, from there he could see who was above him, while keeping his eyes mostly closed. Gem was there, that was the first person who he saw, red hair a mess around her face. The sun turned the stray strands golden in the sunlight. Impulse, too, was there. He looked exhausted as well, and Scott assumed head been running too. There was a third person, to his left, but his head was tilted to the right and it would take a lot of energy to move. He waited for them to talk, not that he was following the conversation. His eyes had closed again. He was ready for a nap.

“...Should we tell him?” The mysterious person asked. Scott recognized the voice, but couldn’t put a face to it. His brain couldn’t think of anything other than the color pink, strangely.

“Of course we should, he’ll find out sooner or later,” Gem responded. He heard some scratching to his left, shoes against the dirt, before a hand slightly tilted his head over to meet bright greenish-red eyes looking into his own.

“Hey, Scott, you with us?” The only thing he could think of was a question, and questions don’t answer other questions. So instead, he mustered up the brain power to produce a soft ‘yes’. Tango smiled at him, though it was a shaky smile. “That’s great. Do you need a minute, or should I tell you the bad news now?” Scott didn’t answer, closing his eyes in an attempt to signify he needed a minute. His head was buzzing, and he needed something to calm it down.

Why is he being nice to me? The question bounced around his head, trying anf failing to find an answer. Once he had long enough of living in his own head, he opened his eyes to find Tango had sat down, right next to him. He looked at him, and the blaze looked back. His eyes were sad. Scott wishes they weren't.

“Can you sit up, Scott?” He asked. Scott lifted himself with his arms, leaning back on them as waves of exhaustion carried themselves through his body. He grunted, leaning forwards enough that he didn’t need his hands anymore. Turning to Tango, he winced.

“Bad news?” He finally asked. Tango did not waste any time in telling him.

“Jimmy died.” He’d heard the words before. Every season, they were passed around, telling people as if they didn't already know that the canary was dead. Scott had laughed once, because it was so Jimmy to be out first that it hurt. The first season he had cried and then killed people. Now, he felt his throat close up. Something inside his chest bubbles, twisting and turning each way like it was trying to find some way to escape. He coughed, because now something was scratching his throat and it hurt, it all hurt so badly.

Flowers came up. Full tulips and poppies, taking their rest in the dirt and rocks. Scott couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t cough anymore, he couldn’t speak. A hand was rubbing circles into his back, and Tango was gone and he couldn't breath. Petals flew out of his mouth, blurring to orange as he kept choking. His hands went to his throat, scratching at it like that would do something. He couldn't feel the marks he was leaving, long claw marks that broke skin and made him bleed.

Blood was on the dirt too. Across his hands, down the front of his shirt, on his lips. He couldn’t breathe. The hands on his back were gone, and someone was shouting. Someone else was screaming, a high pitched whistle across the battleground. He didn’t care. Scott didn’t want to die.

His vision started to go black. He couldn’t see anything that was happening around it, and he couldn’t hear it either. He could feel, but the only sensations were pain, burning pain, blinding pain. Something had gone wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Coms around the valley buzzed. A newly dead body faded away, surrounded by blood and flowers and dust. Screams were heard, echoing around, begging anyone for help against the horror. No one was supposed to die like this.

The last thought Scott had was of golden wings.

Scott Smajor suffocated

Chapter Text

Scott woke up with a gasp. He shot up in bed, flowers surrounding him like they had the past few weeks. He would mistake it for any other normal day if it wasn’t for his com blowing up, he would have gone right back to sleep from exhaustion. Insead, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and immediately fell back down.

His legs were weak, he realized. Something had happened, he just couldn't remember what. There were explosions, and shouting. He picked up a yellow petal next to his hip, rubbing the waxy thing between his thumb and forefinger. There was a hand on his back, a burning in his throat, something dripping from his throat—

Scott almost shot out of bed again, if it weren't for the exhausting currently plaguing him. He had died. He had died because of his hanahaki. That had never happened before, and the doctors had told him it would never happen. No one, according to the record, had ever died of chronic hanahaki. So why was he the exception?

It took him a moment to even remember who was the cause of his floral tragedy. Jimmy and Tango. Two different people. The thought was brought up, dismissed, then brought straight back again. Was being polyamorous deadly? Dismissed again, because that was the most ridiculous thing he had even had the audacity to think. Then again, he had only started really choking when Scott realized he had feelings for Tango. 

It was all getting to his head. It was a heat of the moment thing. Nothing like it had ever happened before and nothing would ever happen like it again. He just had to stop thinking about them and play the game normally. Like it had ever been normal before.

Picking up his com, Scott scrolled through messages that had been sent in the past few minutes.

Scott Smajor suffocated

ZombieCleo- Scott??? Are you ok?

Geminitay- He’s fine, me and Impulse are going to check on him

TangoTek- He just died in front of me!! I’m coming too!

Geminitay- No I don’t think he wants that right now

Grian- Mumbo and Jimmy both died, for anyone that didn’t see

Scott doesn’t read on. Jimmy was dead. How could he have forgotten Jimmy was dead? That was the whole reason he had started choking in the first place (he had never died because Jimmy died before). Scott could feel the tickle in the back of his throat, threatening to climb up higher. He swallowed it down, taking a few breaths. Everything was fine, it would all be okay, he was okay.

“Are you okay?” Gem yelled as she threw open the door to his house. Scott let out a yelp, falling back onto his bed. Brushing the petals off his face and chest, he sat up again and glared at the two people now in the doorway to his house.

“I almost just died again,” he deadpanned. Gem and Impulse share a sympathetic look with him, and almost identical one considering they aren't looking at each other, and then Gem’s face furrows into concern. 

“Can we talk about that?” Gem strides over to his bed, sitting on the foot of it. “The whole choking to death thing?”

Scott crosses his legs, settling onto the back wall and frowning. He doesn’t really want to talk about what happened. Scott wanted to go back to sleep and ignore everything that’s going on at the moment. He doesn’t want to think of death, or flowers, or golden canary wings.

“Sure.” Scott shrugs. No going back now. Impulse had moved from the door to standing by his bed, arms crossed and a worried look on his face. They're both acting like it’s the end of the world, he just died. No, nope, he shouldn’t think about that.

“That’s not supposed to happen, is it?” Gem tilts her head slightly, putting her hands in her lap. “You told us it wasn’t deadly.”

“It’s not. It’s never been deadly before,” Scott mumbled, pressing up against the wall further. Why did he agree to this, he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it, he didn’t want it to happen in the first place. “This is a first.”

“Ok…” Gem breaths out, looking down at the floor instead of him. “Can it turn into the non-chronic version? Is this something we can fix, so you won’t die anymore? Maybe glee have time, because Jimmy’s gone-“

“Gem,” Scott said her name, leaning forward. She jerked her head towards him, and he saw that her eyes were slightly glossy. He couldn’t deny his were as well. Impulse looked between the both of them, eventually sitting on the floor.

Scott had to take a breath. This would be the first time saying it out loud, actually out loud, to anyone other than a dead canary. Why was it harder to say to them than it was to him? Scott shook his head slightly, blinking away his fears and diving in. “It’s not just Jimmy anymore.”

Their reactions were immediate, as were his. Scott started coughing, just saying his name enough to send him into a fit. Impulse pay him on the back. Miraculously, nothing came out, but he felt like the back of his throat was getting cut open. When he stopped coughing, Gem still looked confused, with just a hint of worry. 

“What do you mean, it’s not just him?”

“It’s—“ Scott takes a second to clear his throat, because his voice is all gritty from the cough. All he gets is a burning sensation riddling his entire throat. “There’s another person.”

Impulse buds into the conversation, hand still on his back as if ready to start hitting it again. “Who?”

Gem sends him a glare. “Impulse, that’s rude! You can’t just ask that!” She gives him a slap on the arm, which he frowns at and rubs lightly. Gem turns back to Scott and takes his hands. “Who is it?”

“Oh you hypocrite!” Impulse laugh, getting yet another Gem Glare. She grimaces at Scott, who sends her a sympathetic smile. He feels his stomach twist, because he can’t say Tango's name without risking flowers. He doesn’t want to die again today, at least not that painfully. He would be open to a good whack against the head if it was necessary.

“I can’t say his name,” Scott admits. “Flowers.”

“Oh, at least we know it’s a he—“ Scott interrupts Impulse with an eye roll and an ‘I’m gay, of course it is’. “—and all you have to do is give us clues!”

Scott gives him a deadpan look. “Blaze.”

“Well that wasn’t very hard,” Impulse scoffs back. Gem seems to be the only one who actually registers what he says, because she shakes his hand around violently. He smiles sadly, waiting for her to say something to him. Maybe along the lines of ‘Both of them?’ Or ‘You made a mistake’ but neither of those come. She just seems lost in thought, trying to figure it all out. Scott gets it, he had to think about it like that too.

“Scott…” she finally whispers. “Oh, Scott…” 

I know. I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Not the best choice, hmm?”

“This makes a lot of sense, you know that?” Impulse buds in again, apparently caught up without any need to take a comprehensive second. “The way you act around both of them, I mean. It’s kind of obvious.”

Scott narrows his eyes. “Of course it’s obvious, I throw up flowers near them.”

“Scott…” Gem says again. Scott whips his head towards her, pulling his hands away at the same time. 

“What?” He shouts. “I know I made a mistake, you don’t have to pity me. I already filled that category enough, thanks.” She looks taken aback, but reaches out for him again anyway. Scott feels his stomach twist further, letting her pull him into a hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know you're stressed.”

Scott laughed slowly. “You could say that.”

Gem cracked a grin. “Do you want to keep talking about it?”

Strangely, Scott found he did. It was important that right now, he had to get all of it out and onto the table. He needed their opinions on what to do, how to say something, whether he should do anything at all. Nodding slowly, he extracted himself from Gems arms. “Yeah.”

“Start from the beginning.”

+++++

Tango sat at the edge of one of the holes the Wither had created. He should have been anywhere else right then, maybe turning in his task, maybe mining, anything but lurking in the place where both the people you cared about died.

No, not both of the people. One person, and then another that you don’t care for. Your boyfriend, and some guy. Jimmy and Scott. Tango hurried his head in his hands, mainly to muffle the loud groan. He couldn’t be thinking about them together like that, they weren’t a pair in any way. They had been, at one point, but not anymore. Now it was Jimmy and Tango, and then Scott was somewhere else. 

Jimmy and Tango and Scott.

He let out another loud groan, tail flicking over the ground and charring some of the remaining grass. He couldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Scott meant nothing to him. Scott and his blue eyes like the sky, and his new band makeup eyeliner, and his shirt that would rise up just a little bit when he got on a horse—

No. No. Stopping that train of thought right there. He was dating Jimmy. Jimmy, his favorite person. Jimmy, who was dead. He wasn’t actually dead, he reminded himself, even as tears came to his eyes. He would see Jimmy again after the game, and they would hold each other and talk about everything that happened while they were apart. They did that after Limited Life, and Double Life, though they hadn’t been apart much in that season. 

Footsteps behind him startled Tango out of his train of through, and he scrambled up, hand on his sword hilt.

“Woah, Top, it’s just me!” Skizz laughed, putting his hands up like he was about to get arrested. Tango dropped his hand, going to sit in the hole again.

“Hey Skizz,” he simply said, turning his back on him once again. “Why’re you here?”

“Lookin’ for you.” Skizz sat next to him, bumping their elbows together. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sulking,” Tango admitted, though it sounded like a joke when he said it. It wasn’t a joke.

“Sulking your dead boyfriend or the fact you watched someone else die?” Skizz asked, and Tango had been trying to repress that. The feeling of his hand slowly rubbing circled into Scott’s back while he died on the ground. Tango couldn’t have done anything for him. He didn’t do anything for him, he just watched as Scott died in front of him, the only thing remaining after being splatters of blood and too many flowers. 

Apparently he had zoned out, because Skizz bumped his shoulder again. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

“It’s fine,” Tango added, though he agreed that it was. “Just, Skizz, do you ever… do you ever have feelings for more than one person.”

Glancing over at the angel, he saw him raise an eyebrow. Tango blushed and flicked his tail. “Hypothetically.”

“Oh, well, hypothetically!” He draws out the word, thinking about what to say next. “Hypothetically, yes, I have. Hypothetically, have you?”

Tango hesitated. Skizz wouldn’t tell anyone, he was sure. “…yeah. Hypothetically, how did you get rid of those feelings?”

“ Hypothetically,” Skizz mused, tapping his chin with a finger. “I waited it out.”

Tango flopped back against the ground, once again covering his face with his hands. “That doesn’t help!”

“Hypothetically?”

“No Skizz, literally.”

“Ah.”

They stayed like that for a minute, until Tango sat up again. He slouched forward, picking at his pants. There was so much he had to think about, and he couldn’t do it here. A death game was the worst place to fall in love, or so he was told. It had worked out pretty well for him. 

“Maybe talk to Jimmy about it,” Skizz suggested. Tango knew he meant well, but he felt like Jimmy would freak out at him. Not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way he didn’t want to surprise him with. It was all so confusing, and he couldn’t even admit to himself what ‘it’ was. This was stupid. He was being stupid. He didn’t like Scott, it was his mind playing with him. It was because he felt bad that Scott had a crush on Jimmy. He felt bad. God, Tango felt bad.

“Maybe. Thanks, Skizz.”

“Anytime, Top.”

And that was the end of it.

Chapter Text

Monday came far too quickly. Again Scott’s task book was updated with some menial thing he didn’t even think he had energy for anymore. He just wanted to stay in bed, or with Gem and Impulse, or someone he trusted (that wouldn’t make him throw up flowers). Still, he pulled himself up and out of the cottage, slumping through the garden and to where his team was talking.

Everything felt a little too bright, a little too loud, a little too close. He tried to close his eyes while Gem and Impulse spoke, barely keeping up with the conversations, and almost falling asleep again. Scott only came back to his senses when Impulse clapped a hand on his shoulder. He flinched out of his grip, glaring at the imp.

“You ok there buddy?” His tone carried worry with it, genuine care, and Scott felt bad for being so hostile.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He waved the question off. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“Ok…” He saw Gem and Impulse share a look. “Tell us if you need help thinking.”

“Will do.” Scott gave a thumbs up, which was immediately dropped when they looked away. He didn’t want to be a nuisance, someone to take care of. He could take care of himself, thank you very much. 

Gem made a quick escape from the top of the mountain, saying something about her task being extremely involved this week. Impulse also vanished a few hours later, leaving him alone on the mountain. Scott went back to his house, and stayed there. He found meaningless tasks to do (many things were quickly becoming meaningless). He made his bed, swept his house, swept Gem’s house, made an arrangement of cherry flowers, and made his bed again. It all became some sort of crazed routine, one where he didn’t know what he would do next but he did know that something was coming next. Better to know something was coming next instead of not knowing. 

He slept alone that night. Of course, he slept alone every night, but neither of his teammates came back. They didn’t the next day, when he started it all over. Neither the next, until it was Thursday. It was boring, but also better than being around other people. Better than seeing Tango.

He missed him.

He missed them both.

Scott collapsed onto his bed, messing up the covers just enough that he would have to make them again soon. Was all of this really worth it, the isolation? The pain he went through to just not think or talk to them? To past him, maybe it was, but currently, all he wanted was to be back in the valley, back in 3rd life, by the lake. Maybe in one of their houses, making afternoon tea as they would. He had no memories of Tango to think of, but if he did, he would be thinking of them just as much as he was thinking of Jimmy.

If he had died in the game, what was stopping him from dying out of it too? What happened when he got back to the Hub and there were no more permanent lives? Would he have Grian, maybe Fwhip, make him a world with unlimited lives so he could live? Things he hadn’t considered before, and not for the first time, it hit him how dangerous this all was. He had gotten himself into something that he couldn’t get out of, and now he could die. Actually die.

His com buzzed. Desperate for something to do, Scott opened it, hoping for a message asking a question. He did not expect another death message (there had been a few in the last days). 

Geminitay was slain by GoodTimeWithScar

Scott’s eyes widened, and he jumped out of bed. Gem would be respawning right next door, he had to check on her. Rushing out of his house, he ran down the paths. He didn’t dare open the door (she was red now, he reminded himself, he didn’t know what a red Gem was like). Instead, he called her name, hoping for a response. All he got in return was a shuffling sound and a soft thump. He called out again, and this time he got a muffled response. Scott didn’t know what she had said, but it was definitely her voice.

Hesitantly the door opened. A tangle of red curls came first, tied in a braid, and then eyes. Scott had seen her eyes before, of course, but never this intense. They were the same color as roses, the colors swirling together to create some kind of red whirlpool. Gem’s eyes were more intense than any he had seen before. 

She exited all the way, and he saw what had happened to her and—it didn’t make sense. Her entire right arm was gone, replaced by something shaped like an arm. It was as if a baby had been told to make a limb out of clay, then gave up halfway through after giving it claws. IT was darkened, to a navy, with swirling turquoise all throughout. Her ‘arm’ was tarnished and twisted and misshapen, and all Scott could think of was how much that must hurt. Gem didn’t look hurt though, she just smiled sweetly at him. 

“Wow,” he praised, because she had embraced the red role well. “This…this suits you!” It came out excited. He was not excited. Gem smiled wider, and Scott took a step back.

“I know, I love my new…” she trailed off, glancing down at her arm, then back up to him. “I know.”

“Uh, yeah.” Gem took another step forward, bracing her hand against the hilt of her sword. Scott’s eyes widened, and he subtly looked around for a way out. The diving board. “Hey, Gem, what are you doing?”

“Scott, just let me do this.”

“Do what, Gem I–” Scott didn’t get to finish his sentence, because he had to start running. Gem had drawn her sword, and even as he started running, he felt something graze his arm and the (familiar) feeling of a deep cut. Nothing could stop him though, as he looped around the hill and back down to the paths. Gem was right behind him the whole time, smiling like she had just won the game that day. Scott was sure he had smiled like that before, back in Last Life.

He didn’t have time to think before he jumped off the diving board, into the lake below. He was submerged for only a moment, but it was long enough for him to spot the drowneds that haunted the lake's bottom. Swimming as fast as he could (it had been easier last game), he brushed the water from his eyes and flopped onto the grass. Kicking his feet onto land, he scurried back on his hands and knees, taking gasping breaths.

Gem wouldn’t follow him. He knew she knew that she would just find him later, somehow, and kill him then. For now he would be alone.

The day was sunny, though it was getting colder as the sun set. A light breeze brushed past, making him even colder in his soaking clothing. Scott shivered on the ground, barely containing his shock and anger and overall sadness. He doesn’t explode with it, that’s just not while he is, but it does lay under the surface enough that if anyone so much as talked to him, he might draw his sword.

“Scott?” 

And goddamn, if that isn’t the universe serving him karma on a silver platter. Nothing could make it worse now, except Tango actually pretended to care why he was soaking wet and laying in the setting sun.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m laying here, Tango,” Scott sighs.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tango.”

“Can I sit?”

And here’s the thing. Scott could say yes. He could say yes and then have Tango right next to him, talking (Tango talks, it’s a fact of life) and he would hold the tulips in his throat the whole time. He could say no, but that’s rude. Wasn’t he just missing Tango? 

“Sure.”

Scott’s eyes are closed, but he hears the grass next to him ruffle and a soft thud against the ground. Flowers itched in the back of his throat, ticking it like they always did, and Scott pushed them down, like he always did. Something more painful, a stem, or maybe a full flower, sat somewhere in his esophagus. It hurt. He felt hurt.

“I should be killing you right now.” Scott’s blood ran cold. “I can’t though. It’s against the rules.”

“What rules?” It came out much more tired than he expected it to.

“The task. Do you really not know about it?”

“Tango–” A cough, followed by a few more. “I’ve been hiding on the mountain since Monday.” He swallowed the petals, not a nice feeling, but better than letting them out. Scott gasped a few times, deep and shuddering. “I don’t know what the task is or why…” you should be killing me. It remains unsaid but he can tell Tango understands. 

“Gem’s task, the boogeypocolypse, the infectionation, you don’t know anything?” Scott, eyes still closed, shook his head. It was silent for a minute, prompting him to open his eyes and squint up at Tango.

The sun was directly behind his head, casting him mostly in shadow. His hair was flickering, briefly casting light before it went out again. Scott could swear that his right eye looked just like Gem’s arm: dark, and swirling. He coughed, making some horrible choking noise he never had before. Tango swiveled his head towards him, eyes going wide. 

“I–” It was like he was hacking up a lung. “–don’t know anything?”

“Wow, okay, uh.” Tango furrowed his brow, looking around like Scott was a lost kitten in need of an owner. “I’m going to deliver you to Cleo, she’ll fill you in. I shouldn't be helping you.”

Scott finally sat up, just to double over and start ridding himself of the flowers he had tried to push down. They were painful, and for a minute it felt like he would die again, Tango’s hand on his back and blood splattered across grass. But then it cleared up, and he was free to stand, despite the strength it took. Tango didn’t question the flowers, nor his death from before Scott was sure he remembered. As they walked, he looked at Scott with pity, if anything.

They saw no one on the way there, but maybe it was because Tango insisted on taking the back routes. Scott was grateful anyway, because it meant they were free to stop anytime for him to wheeze and let the petals out. Each time, he would stand back up, stretch, and try not to look at the goddamn cute expression Tango would put on for him. 

There was no one at Cleo and Etho’s, at least not that he could see. Tango stopped them both within sight range and pat Scott’s shoulder for a second, urging him to face him.

“For your sake, I hope we lose. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want you to die.”

He was gone in a moment, leaving Scott alone. His stomach flipped, and he couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or a bad way. Whatever way it was, it was caused by Tango. Scott took a deep breath and started up the steps, determined to find some sort of explanation as to everything going on.

Cleo brought him inside, where he found a small gathering including them two, Skizz and BigB. Cleo explained the zombie situation, something about Gems' task and killing everyone, and got him settled inside. Apparently Grian and Martyn were also still alive, but no one knew where either of them were. It was fine, as long as one person survived the week, they would be okay.

BigB and Skizz fell eventually. Cleo lost a life to drowning, but she didn’t turn into a zombie (she already was one, as she would joke). Scott survived until Saturday night, sneaking and hiding in various spots. It reminded him of the hunt for the last green's last game, but then he also remembered the last game and he didn’t think about it anymore.

One by one, the infected hit the fail button, laughing it off in good spirits. Scott avoided Gem for most of the night, sticking with the two other survivors most of the time. Grian seemed to understand, patting him on the back every now and then. Scott appreciated it.

The only thing he felt he couldn’t avoid was Tango’s eyes. The whole night, they would pin him to the ground, to the rocks, to the buttons. He had spoken to Cleo about what he said, but she had brushed it off, not unkindly. Scott tried his best to ignore it, even when he returned to the mountain that night and could still feel the lasting impact. There was one thing that swirled around his mind, eating away at anything else, keeping him up much later than he wanted to be.

He knows the flowers are for him.

And did he? Scott didn’t know. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

Chapter Text

“Gem, I need you to kill me.” She hesitated, sword still at her side and worry in her eyes. After last week's apocalypse, she had started hesitating to do anything remotely violent, despite the impulse to do so. Still, when Scott started coughing again, she took her blade out and positioned it at his neck. Beads of blood pooled against the edge as he breathed in deeply. Scott winced, almost pulling his head away, but forced himself to keep it there. “Just do it, please?”

“I’m sorry, Scott.” Blinding pain, and then darkness. Scotts vague consciousness enjoyed the lack of itch in the bottom of his throat, or the way he didn’t have to feel anything, he could just exist. And then he was settled back onto bed sheets, and it all came hurtling back. Scott just lay there for a minute, taking in every single sensation he could find. Half of them made him want to go back to sleep, maybe just for the day, and the other half made him want to get up and do something.

A buzz on his com, then a knock at the door. Scott sighed and raised his hand, waving it in a circle even though no one could see. “Come in.”

The door opened, and even though his eyes were closed, he knew who it was. “Is it better?”

“Yeah, it is. For now.”

It was Tuesday. The flowers had gotten worse since Saturday, dipping so low as to give him another death scare. They seemed to have gotten better after he had last died, something he had never noticed before. It had gotten worse faster though, so fast that Scott wasn’t sure how long he was safe for now that he was dead a second time. The third time he died, he would be out of the games, and if he died for a fourth time… he wasn’t going to think about dying for a fourth time. It wouldn’t happen, he would find some way out of death when he got home. Cheat the system or something. He’d figure it out.

Scott had been the one to come up with the idea of letting Gem kill him. She was red, had been for a while, and needed more hearts. If he couldn’t win, he would make sure she did. Impulse had joined in, sacrificing his life to give Gem hearts as well. Now neither of them needed to worry about someone coming after them, at least not for the reason that they were low on hearts.

The side of the bed sunk down as Gem sat. She sighed, and Scott opened his eyes to face her. Her face was scrunched into a frown, concerned creases crossing her forehead. She was looking at the floor like it had wronged her in some way. Scott sat up, crossing his legs and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just didn’t know the games would be this intense.” She smiled. Scott had to remind himself that this was her first game, that she hadn’t been there since the beginning. It was insane how well she fit into a role in these games, how she had melded into the group immediately. Scott hoped she would come back for the next games, it would be interesting to have her as an enemy.

“They always have been.”

“I think I can get used to it.”

Scott’s peace lasted a day. He woke up the next day coughing, trying his best to breathe in and out and regulate the flowers that he could feel in his lungs. He could barely make it out the door to find someone, anyone, before he collapsed onto the ground. There were roots coming out of his mouth, dirtless roots, settling gray-brown against green. He could feel them, deep within his chest, fighting against the inside of his lungs. They were growing, growing and connected to him, he was coughing up a part of himself. Scott was dying and nobody was there.

He stopped, eventually, falling from his hands and knees to lying down face flat. Blood and flower petals stuck to his cheeks, but Scott couldn’t bring himself to care. He lay there, rays of sun shining down onto him, bugs crawling in the grass next to him, breeze flowing through branches. Scott was dying, slowly dying, and the world was still turning.

His hearts were low. He could tell, without looking at them, that he would die if he had another episode. It had come back so quickly this time, full force, and for what? He had kept his thoughts to a minimum, avoided Tango for the less-than-twenty-four-hour time period he had been red. Every detail was accounted for, and still he suffered.

Maybe it was his oxygen deprived brain. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe Scott had been thinking about doing it for a long time, but had never done it. Either way, he found himself sneaking down the mountain, leaving a trail of yellow tulips and poppies for anyone to follow. The Heart Foundation was in sight, behind the Secret Keeper in the middle of the lake. Their heart in the air made it visible anywhere around the server, except for maybe the desert, but Scott had never liked deserts anyway. Too many explosions.

The edge of the water lapped against his ankles. Scott couldn’t remember when he had gotten to the lake, but here he was now, letting out another bout of petals and blood into the water. It floated there, not quite mixing in, not quite sitting still. The petals floated in every direction, letting the water drag them around.

There were people on the island. Scott couldn’t remember why he was there, he couldn’t really focus on anything with only one out of three breaths he took making it to his throat. One of them shouted, happily maybe. The other two turned to look at him in all his stumbling glory, and then one of them was running towards him. A blur of pink and yellow came his way, catching Scott when he stumbled and fell. Warm arms wrapped around his chest, keeping him upright. Another shout, and then he was being carried somewhere.

Scott tried to focus on the face of whoever had helped him, telling them he needed to be somewhere, needed to tell someone something, but the person was talking to him before he could even open his mouth. “It’s fine. We’ll help you, oh gosh you have blood on your mouth, what happened—”

Cut off by a yell, closer now, and something from the person next to him. Scott took a rough breath in, followed by a bout of coughing from him and a curse from whoever was carrying him. Scott was set down against something, a tree maybe, he couldn't figure it out. It was all still blurry, and all he could see were three people in pink all talking hurriedly. Scott opened his mouth, trying and failing to talk, and then trying again.

“Tango…” he rasped, letting out a few half-hearted coughs after. One of the people leaned down, taking a seat next to him.

“I’m right here, Scott, what’s up? What happened?” Right there? No, no, he needed Tango. He needed Tango so that he wouldn’t die. Tango had to tell him…what did he need Tango to tell him? Everything was spinning around his brain, every moment seemed to last an hour and a millisecond. Something warm wrapped around his wrist, offering comfort if only for a moment.

“Need Tango… he gotta–gotta–” Scott doubled over, huffing and wheezing. Blood dripped down his chin, staining his white shirt. Another curse, and then two pairs of footsteps running, but the person was still right next to him. A flurry of flowers—full flowers—fell from his mouth, sticking to his chin or falling into his lap.

“Gotta what?” They didn’t seem bothered by the fact he was gasping as he coughed up flowers. They were so nice. And warm. Tango was warm too.

“I’m dying–” another flower, another root, another stem. “–and I need him… tell me…” It was all really going away now. The edges of his vision were tinted black. Scott had never been in this much pain during a death before. Had he? Maybe. All he could think of was the pain in his throat, tearing apart his chest, ripping at his ribs and heart and lungs. Every breath came with a stab of pain. Every move came with a groan and a flower.

“Tell you something? I can tell you anything, just tell me what it is, if it’ll save you right now.” They were rambling. Scott would have laughed if there weren’t tears streaming down his face. At least the blood getting on his shirt would be watered down. “I don’t want to watch you die, not again. Not again, Scott.” They lowered their head so it was against his hands.

“Tell me he likes me…loves me…” Scott muttered. He wasn’t breathing anymore, he was coughing silently against the air. It was cold, everywhere was cold, except for whatever was around his wrist and the head leaning against his hands. He saw just a flicker, barely a flame, through the darkness in his vision, and in the back of his mind, he decided he couldn’t wait to wake up in his own bed.

Then:

“I love you.”

Scott gasped, feeling the pressure in his chest subside. He coughed, once, twice, before a final yellow tulip flew out of his mouth. He breathed, in and out, catching his breath for what felt like the first time in forever. The tickle was still there, in his lungs, but it was much less noticeable. It was currently barely bothering him.

He looked up to see a very confused and terrified blazeborn crouching next to him, holding his hands in his own. Scott noticed that Tango’s tail was wrapped around his wrist, and he let his eyes wander there for a second before looking back up. His head was still light and airy, but he could comprehend what had just happened, and if he wasn’t dead then—

“Oh my void,” He breathed. Tango blushed and opened his mouth, like he was going to explain, but nothing came out. His hair was on fire, like it was when he was feeling frustrated or upset. Or like it was when he was around Jimmy.

Everything was bright. It was all too bright, and in his face, and Tango looked like he wanted Scott to say something and he didn’t know what. Scott was staring, he realized. Suddenly his touch was too hot, burning at his skin, and Scott pulled his hands away. Tear tracks felt tacky on his cheeks when he opened his mouth.

“You–Tango–You can’t–” Scott couldn’t figure it out. It was all too much, because Tango couldn’t love him, Tango loved Jimmy. He couldn’t love him, especially not now that he had forced him to confess it in a fit of death and blood, Tango should hate him now. “I have to go.” And he was running. Scott was running away, as fast as he could, as fast as someone who was as close to death as they could get could go. His legs threatened to give out from under him, but he persisted. Tango shouted after him, but he didn’t stop, because if he stopped something bad would happen, and he didn’t want to be the reason that Tango felt guilty or the reason Jimmy got mad.

He ran all the way back to the mountain, not without falling a few times. When he got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked back to see if anyone was following him. No one was around, and he couldn’t hear anything nearby except the consistent wind in the trees and the creaking cherry wood stairs. His ears twitched. Scott didn’t feel like he was going to die anymore, but something still lingered deep inside him. A scream, a wave, a crash of feelings buried deep below the surface. See if he ever tried to say anything to anyone ever again.

Scott wiped the tears from his face and climbed the stairs without looking back.

Chapter Text

Scott had only coughed up poppies since Wednesday. They hadn’t been frequent, like they were when he hadn’t seen Jimmy for a while. Not a single tulip had made an appearance. He didn’t miss them, per say, but the absence of them meant something. Everytime he thought of Tango nothing happened, there was no constriction in his throat, no tickling feeling and no flutter in his lungs. It felt normal to think of him. Scott tried to forget what happened, tried to change it in his mind so that he had just lost feelings for him. Still, three words echoed through his head, on repeat constantly.

I love you.

It was all a mess. He would have to talk to Jimmy and Tango eventually, have to explain himself and apologize for messing up their relationship. His intentions had been the exact opposite, he wanted neither of them to know about what was going on and continue happily. What nagged him though, ran through his head at least once a day, was the thought that Tango had meant it. He had meant what he said, otherwise the flowers would still be there, and wasn’t that a thought? Wasn’t it strange that his feelings were reciprocated by the person he thought least likely to reciprocate them?

Did Tango feel guilty? He wondered what he was thinking about at any given time of the day. Was he going to tell Jimmy everything that had happened as soon as he got home, or was he going to keep it a secret until Scott told? Would he just repress it all like he had? Scott could barely go on with his day to day when thoughts were constantly clogging his mind. Was Tango struggling too?

He almost went to see him. Multiple times he walked down the stairs, took one look at the Heart Foundation, and scurry right back up them. Whenever he thought of another interaction with Tango, fear swirled in his gut. He couldn’t face him, not without being ready to apologize for what he had done. For the problems he was inevitably causing. It all came back to his destructive tendencies.

The rest of the week went by, and the weekend came, and then the weekend was gone and it was monday again. The games went on. Scott completed most of his red tasks, some of them lacking but still passing the bar. Nobody was noticing anything about anyone anymore. They cared about themselves and winning.

He, Gem, and Impulse took out Grian, not without substantial damage to themselves. Scott was left with barely anything left, limping on one leg and with a pounding circling around his head. Everything seemed to blur after that, turning into a series of events he wasn’t able to put together, even later. All he knew was that suddenly there were four of them, and Pearl was chasing him like she always seemed to, and then he was kneeling before Gem like a saint praying to a god. Saints didn’t usually pray for death though, and gods didn’t usually comply. And still, he found a muttered apology from a face he couldn’t see, and a sharp pain in his neck, and then it was all dark.

Not dark in the way one closes their eyes. Dark in the way a cave was dark, in the way it suffocated your eyes until you couldn’t physically see. Scott was blinking, but nothing was in front of him. The liminal space between the end of the games and the way back to their lives, or whatever server they had been on before.

He heard whispers from other players. They were all around him, muttering to themselves while waiting to get away. None of them could see each other, but they could feel if they tried hard enough. Close to him, he heard Impulse’s voice, and farther away, was Lizzie.

He felt bad for Lizzie and Jimmy and Mumbo. They had been here for three weeks, though it felt more like three hours. Still patience was key while waiting for the games to end.

And then he was dragged out of the void (he had died close to the end of the games, so it felt like maybe five minutes) and into the comfort of his own home. He was in the bathroom, just where he had left. The dustpan and brush were gone, as were the flowers, just like he had asked Katherine. He would have to thank her later. He still wore his ragged game clothes, the plastic jacket crinkling with every movement he made. It was more for style than function.

Scott sat on the fluffy carpet, slowly taking off his shoes and socks, then his jacket and jewelry. He ran his hands along the rug, bathing in the stimulation it gave him. Every feeling of panic and fever had left him, creating a small void where he swore feelings should be, but weren’t. It took a while to get used to the feeling of everyday living again once they were out of a game, making everyone a little more jumpy and a little more judgemental. Scott felt different after every game, depending on what had happened.

After 3rd life, he had felt like an actual widow until he saw Jimmy again (which was almost right away, since they had made plans to see each other and talk since their friendship had gotten stronger). After Last life, he had felt hollow like a winner was, like a killer was, the lingering feelings of what it was like to be covered in blood and shoot an arrow through another's skull prevalent in the days after. For months he avoided Ren. After Double life, it was tricky. There was something below the surface, itching at his mind, until he and Pearl talked about what had happened. He was happy she had won, and that was the emotion that seemed the largest when he looked back. Limited life was tricky, because he had been extremely happy for Martyn, even if the taste of betrayal stuck in his mouth. His hanahaki had been horrible though, creeping out his mouth whenever he thought even remotely of yellow feathers and leather.

After Secret life (that was this one, right?) he couldn’t really describe his feelings. Regret fit, almost, and guilt fit, almost, and together they fit, almost, but he couldn’t help the glimmer of hope in his chest. It was selfish and stupid, because Tango was with Jimmy and even if he had been truthful about loving Scott, he would never leave his boyfriend. Seeing Tango again would be pure pain, because they would look at each other and know, and then look away and still know. Sure, maybe Scott wished they would talk about it, at least a little, but at the same time it would hurt so much and he wasn’t sure if he could handle his heart being ripped out of his chest again.

He wouldn’t bring it up, not to Tango, not to Jimmy, because god forbid he hurt either of them. He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his head on them, feeling the familiar prickle in his lungs, and for once, thinking of them without fear. If he was going to suffer, at least he would suffer without guilt.

+++++

Tango spent maybe half an hour in the void, searching for Jimmy, until he was pulled out. The feeling was similar to a pull in his stomach, like the floor was dropping out from under him even if there was no floor in the void. He blinked and then he was in the living room, on the couch, right where he had been.

Jimmy was next to him, wing draped around him and head on his shoulder. Tango couldn’t help but lean into him, pressing his face to his hair and kissing his head. Jimmy hummed under him, then seemed to remember where they were and jumped up.

“Tango!!” He yelled, happy as could be. He hugged him tight, and Tango hugged back, smiling. He momentarily forgot everything he had wanted, or needed, to tell him, relishing in the feeling of familiar arms around him. Jimmy hugged like he would never be able to hug someone ever again, fully encompassing them. Tango was a very big fan of Jimmy hugs, personally. “How were the games? Did you win? How did everyone do?”

“Hang on, hang on!” He laughed, pushing the canary off of him. Jimmy retreated against the back of the couch, sitting cross legged on the cushions and waiting for Tango to tell him about everything he had missed. Tango sat too, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“I didn’t win, I’m not sure who did,” Tango admitted, and Jimmy’s shoulders dropped a little. “There’s a lot of things I should tell you about the weeks you missed, especially week seven, that’s a story, but—”

“Actually,” Jimmy interrupted. “I was there for week eight. One of the tasks brought me back in.” Tango’s blood ran cold. “I didn’t get to see you though.”

“Oh.” Thank void was the part he didn’t say. “How?”

“Grian, of all people, had to do what I told him too!” Jimmy laughed, and Tango half heartedly joined. “It was hilarious! I told him to keep doing the zombie dance, and he was mean to Etho but Etho didn’t care! I would do it again, honestly.”

“You can tell me all about it later. But first,” Tango took a deep breath in, and exhaled. “We need to talk about something.”

Jimmy furrowed his brow. “Something bad?”

“Not…necessarily? Not unless you take it the wrong way?” Jimmy frowned further at his words, ear wings pinned to the side of his head in distress. “It’s about Scott.”

“Oh!” Jimmy lit up, then slumped down, then settled on something vaguely bemused in his expression. “I have to talk to you about Scott as well!”

“What.”

Chapter Text

Jimmy sat back against the couch, watching his boyfriends look of shock and confusion. He felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him, and felt his shoulder adjust to be slightly higher. He shouldn’t tell Tango what Scott had told him weeks ago, even if it felt like hours. That was breaking his friend's trust, he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want Scott to suffer though, and it was horrible to watch him cough up those flowers. If telling Tango would fix things, even in the slightest, he would jump at the chance. Scott deserves to be happy.

If Tango said he reciprocated the feelings, Jimmy was open to being polyamorous. (Even if he had kept it inside for years, he had to admit, feelings lingered from their time together in third life. He was too scared to tell Scott before, and too scared to bring it up with Tango after they had gotten together). If Tango didn’t, then they never had to bring it up again. He was sure Scott would lose feelings eventually, no matter how painful it could have been. He would support him through it all anyway, as much as he could.

Was he a bad friend for telling Tango? Was he making a mistake? Was Scott going to be mad at him? Jimmy felt his wings sink, drooping over the arm of the couch. Scott would be mad at him, surely, he was being a horrible person in even suggesting this conversation and—

“I told Scott I loved him!” Tango slapped his hands over his mouth as soon as he said it, looking at Jimmy with wide eyes. Jimmy looked right back, the expression on his face not quite excited but the energy was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! It just came out, and he was in danger, and I didn’t want him to die again and—”

“Tango, that's amazing!” Jimmy interrupted, taking his boyfriend's hands and holding them. “You meant it, right?”

“I–yeah I did but—Why are you happy? This isn’t making any sense…” he trailed off, tail whipping wildly around behind him. “What’s going on?”

“I can tell you. Do you want me to tell you my side, and then you tell me yours, and then we can talk?”

Tango nodded. Jimmy let out a sigh and started, telling Tango his entire experience over the games. Scott telling Jimmy that he liked his boyfriend, Jimmy telling him he should tell Tango, him dying before he could do anything about it and thinking over it all in the void. Tango stared at him, awestruck, mouth floundering with words to say. Jimmy finished with the statement he would be open to polyamory, where he and Scott both dated Tango. Tango took a few minutes, composed himself, and simply asked a question.

“Do you like Scott too?”

Jimmy took a second to answer. His first instinct was to say yes, I do, so much that sometimes it hurts but he wasn’t sure if that's what Tango wanted to hear. He was going to be completely honest though, whether or not it was the best thing.

“Yeah, I do. I really do.”

“Oh, thank void. ” Tango grunted and leaned back against his side of the couch. “I don’t know what would have happened if you had said no.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?” Jimmy cocked his head to the side, much like a bird would. A million possibilities ran through his mind, but none made sense with the information he currently had. Tango sat up, and launched into his side of everything.

It started with the confession behind the Secret Keeper. He talked about how Scott had died after Jimmy out of grief, how Tango had realized he was falling for him but hadn’t wanted to do anything because he thought Scott liked Jimmy and didn’t want to mess that up. He talked about helping Scott during the apocalypse. He told the story of the almost second death, the I love you and the realizations after, from both him and Scott. He told him about the avoidance because he had no idea what to do.

Jimmy sat there, slack jawed, until Tango took a final breath and finished with “—and I obviously actually meant it, and I was scared to tell you. There, that's everything.”

“Holy crap,” Jimmy whispered, leaning back. “You’re telling me that the guy that we both like likes both of us as well, and I’m also not dreaming?”

Tango reached over and pressed a burning hot finger to Jimmy’s hand. He got a screech and a flinch away in response, laughter erupting from his throat. “We really are idiots, aren’t we?”

“At least I’m your idiot.”

“You’ve used that line a thousand times.”

“And yet, you still love it. Just wait until Scott gets a hold of you, you’d be so hot we could cook an egg on you!” Jimmy laughed, watching the blush fade from Tango’s face. Tango grunted a response, something noncommittal and short, before sitting up.

“We should talk to him. Void, he’s probably miserable right now, sulking like he was in the last few weeks.” Tango scoffed. “The lovable idiot.”

Jimmy nodded, collecting his thoughts. They needed to talk to him first about dating them, but also about boundaries, and communication, and how was this going to work actually? Jimmy didn’t have the faintest idea, just imagining being in his ‘husbands’ arms again, and with Tango too this time. The thought brought him comfort, savoring the fleeting feeling of warmth and compassion that spread through him. All of these problems will have been worth it if he got to have the two people he loved most in the world.

“We should.”

They took their time getting ready, pulling on coats and shoes (it was the middle of winter). Jimmy kept getting distracted by kissing his boyfriend's nose, making him giggle and swat him away. He prided himself on the amount he was able to swoop back in for another after that. They walked their way down the streets of the city, admiring the snow that had fallen in their absence. It wasn’t a permanent home for anyone, just an in-between world for everyone to stay in while they either didn’t have or didn’t want to go to a current home server. Jimmy knew that BigB and Martyn spent a lot of their time here, creating their own small worlds to goof around in. He and Tango owned an apartment together on one side of the city, while Scott had a house around twenty minutes away. Tango insisted they stop at one of the stores along the way and bring food, or at least dessert, because he had noticed the lack of food Scott was consuming during the games. Jimmy agreed, and they walked out with donuts, of all things. Tango was flushed from the cold, bundling up in his coat and pulling it over his hands and head. Jimmy laughed at him, entangling their hands and forcing them into a pocket together, for extra warmth. He carried the small box with his other hand, smiling all the way. 

They transitioned out of the main city, arriving in the equally snowy suburbs. There were houses in rows down the street, all of them different in some way. Scott’s house was smaller than the other ones, a single floor. Jimmy had been inside before, briefly, and knew the inside wasn’t glamorous. It was simple, cluttered, and very Scott. Sometimes he wondered if there was anywhere more Scott than the house he lived in, and every time, he couldn’t think of anywhere. 

They walked up the short path together, hands interlocked. Jimmy looked down at his boyfriend, who smiled and squeezed his hand, tail wrapping around his leg. Jimmy knew that as both a sign of comfort and anxiety, and couldn’t agree more. Slowly, he took his hand away and knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the air even as soft as it is. Shuffling came from behind it, and then the sound of a lock opening and the door swung open.

“Katherine, I swear, if you’re trying to—oh.” Scott looked up into his eyes, and Jimmy smiled. His breath caught (Jimmy could see it, which was strange) and when he spoke again, his voice was strained. “I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for?” He asked softly. He saw Scott’s eyes flick to Tango, then back up to him. He brought a hand up to his mouth and coughed, a few rough noises breaking free from his throat. Jimmy stayed where he was, looking over to see Tango already gliding forward and taking Scott’s hands away from his mouth, saying something to him quiet enough that Jimmy couldn’t hear it. He watched in awe as Tango led him inside, looking back at Jimmy with a smile and waving him inside. He followed, letting them lead him into the house. They sat down at the nearest table, Scott still coughing, almost choking, on flowers. There were tears in his eyes, and his hands had traveled to his chest. Tango rubbed his back, waiting for him to calm down to talk any louder than he had been.

“We’re not mad at you, Scott. Neither of us are.” Scott sat up at the words, eyes red rimmed from tears and cheeks flushed.

“Why? I messed everything up, and I shouldn’t have forced Tango to say that, and—and—and—” 

“But I meant it, didn’t I?” Scott’s eyes found the blazeborns, then met Jimmy’s. His wings fluttered behind him, stretching just a bit. 

“You’re not mad? But, I—He’s your boyfriend! He doesn't say that to other people!” Scott wheezed a few breaths. 

“I don’t think he would be mad if I said I love you,” Jimmy said simply, not understanding the weight of his words until Tango raised his eyebrows and Scott gasped. He let out a few breaths, and then breathed a few in, slowly, deliberately.

“Shit, Jimmy, I can breathe. ”

Chapter Text

Scott took a breath in, and then out. He could feel the flowers slowly, dying, disintegrating in his lungs and throat and leaving a clear path. Roots curled up, releasing his bronchi and scraping the sides of his lungs, until they too were gone. Everything was gone, completely, leaving full, heaving, real inhales in their place, and slow, empty, swirling exhales. Scott took in a few test breaths, just to check that this was actually happening. When he had concluded that, yes, he was free from the illness that had plagued him for the past few years, he looked at both the people in front of him. Jimmy seemed to have realized what he had said, and Tango was looking between them both curiously. Scott opened his mouth, and for the first time in a while, his throat didn’t constrict.

“Shit, Jimmy, I can breathe.”

“Oh my void,” Jimmy whispered. “I didn’t—you can—oh my void.”

“You meant it?” Scott asked quietly.

“Of course I did, you wouldn’t have stopped otherwise!” Jimmy grinned then, a wide, bright thing, and Scott had the urge to kiss it right off his face and keep kissing him until he suffocated on his own terms this time. Instead, he turned to Tango, who was grinning just as wide.

“And you’re okay with this?”

“I love you too, don’t I?”

Scott had died, he decided. He had suffocated from the flowers and gone to some fucked up version of heaven, because this couldn’t be real. He couldn’t have the two people he had been relentlessly pining over sitting at his table in his house telling him they loved him. That just didn’t happen, it wasn’t something that happened! But it was happening, to him of all people, so he tried to stay in the moment.

They loved him. Both of them. He loved them back, and he hadn’t told them that yet. He sat up, looking Jimmy in the face and letting himself relax. Beautiful Jimmy, who he had spent a life—three actually—with, tending to cows and flowers and each other. His husband, who he had lived and died with, who he had mourned and fought with in good fun, who he loved more than the memories of poppy crowns and soft skies.

“I love you.”

He turned to Tango, ignoring the smitten look on Jimmy’s face. Gorgeous Tango, who he had never spent a life with but had fallen for him all the same, with his silly words and his wraparound tail and his sarcastic smile. Someone who he would have given the world too, if asked, to keep him happy, and then given him another.

“I love you too.”

Scott felt the reaction to his words immediately, pairs of arms being thrown around him and almost knocking his chair to the floor. He laughed, because there wasn’t a response more appropriate than that. Tango—who had been sitting on the table up until now—threw his arms around Scott’s neck, almost bringing his whole body down on top of him but settling at the last moment. Jimmy got up from his chair and wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind, narrowly avoiding Tango, resting his head on top of Scott’s. 

“I love you both so much,” Scott said, and suddenly it was vital they hear it. “I love you, I love you, I can’t believe I didn’t say it sooner. I love you. I can’t…” he trailed off, instead choosing to bury his head in the arms surrounding him. Something muffled came out of his mouth, and even he wasn’t sure what it was. It might have been another love declaration. It might have been a thank you, because that seemed in order. Whatever it was, Tango and Jimmy muttered something incoherent in return, something happy sounding. Scott smiled, closing his eyes and just listening to his own breaths. They were deliberate, blown right back at him as they ricocheted off of Tango’s arm. They were unrestricted, free. Scott was drinking in the feeling, feeding on the affection that came with it. He was obsessed with the feeling, because he had thought he would never get to feel it. At least, not for a while.

“We do have to talk about things, you know,” Jimmy whispered to both of them. Scott shook his head lightly.

“Not right now. Now I wanna stay like this. It’s not everyday I have two pretty men all over me.” Tango giggled in his ear, and Jimmy let out a fond sigh from atop his head. Scott felt something warm shoot through his chest, flooding it with care. He almost panicked for a second, but then it settled, and he was safe. It wasn’t coming back. Nothing was going to happen because Jimmy and Tango were with him now, and he assumed they would be for a while (he hoped for forever, but maybe it was too early to ask for that).

“Can we at least be somewhere more comfy?” Tango asked, electing a laugh from both of the other men. He was bent at a strange angle to lean over from atop the table, so Scott complied by standing up and leading both of them over to his couch, where they all collapsed. They were a tangle of limbs and smiles, and it took a moment to get them sorted. Scott ended up next to Jimmy, laying his head on his shoulder, the blondes wing around his own shoulders, while Tango’s head was in Jimmy’s lap. His hair was sparking at the edges, releasing warm heat into the air. Scott mindlessly let his hand wander down and tangle in it, running his fingers through the warmer than normal locks. 

“We do need to talk about all of this though,” Jimmy finally spoke up. Tango nodded lightly, and Scott took a deep breath before agreeing. He was nervous, because Talking usually meant complications. Better sooner than later anyway. “Scott, do you wanna, um, go out with us?”

“Of course I do, Jimmy. As long as Tango wants that too,” Scott leant a little more of his weight on the shoulder supporting him.

“Yes! I, uh, erm, I mean yeah.” Tango tried to play it off cool, but the amount of nervous noises he made gave away his feelings. Scott let out a little chuckle, looking down to see ruby eyes looking back up at him. “Is that okay?”

“Oh my void we’re such a mess,” Jimmy mumbled out, making them all burst into a fit. Scott held a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking until he quieted down. Opening his eyes, he saw both of them looking at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decode. It was positive, whatever it was. 

“What?” Scott asked, puzzled. The smile never slipped from his lips. Tango responded first. 

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you happy. For a while, anyway.” Jimmy nodded in agreement, wonder crossing his eyes. “You’re pretty when you're not covered in flowers and tears.”

Scott snorted. “Are you saying I wasn’t pretty when you saved my life?”

“You were nice then, but now you’re all like,” Tango flapped his arms around, trying to find the right word. “Happy,” he settled on.

“I am. I am happy.” Scott settles his head on Jimmy’s shoulder again. They all went quiet again, and this time it felt more tense. Scott wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t going to ask and make it awkward. He just kept carding his fingers through Tango’s hair, pretending not to see the silent conversation they were having with their eyes. Anxiety coiled in his stomach, and his heart started pounding in his chest. What if they decided they didnt want him, even after only a few minutes? Jimmy shifted his shoulder, prompting Scott to sit up and look at him. He had an anxious look on his face, like he was about to tell him something horrible—

“Can I kiss you?” Jimmy exclaimed, blush sprinkling over his cheeks and ears. He leaned back a little bit, just out of kissing range (that made it harder to kiss him, Scott thought) and bit his lip. “Sorry, that was, um, sudden. I just really want to and we’ve settled everything so—”

“Jimmy,” Scott said softly, breaking the canary out of his rambling. “Please do.” He flushed an even darker red, and licked his lips.

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” Jimmy obviously wasn’t going to initiate it, so Scott did, leaning forward and kissing him square on the lips. It was nothing more than pressing them together quickly, then retreating before he could overstep any boundaries. He wasn’t sure what Jimmy was comfortable with, he didn't want to make him feel bad. “Can I have another?”

The request caught Scott off guard, and he spent a few seconds just openly staring. “Hey, wait, no, it’s my turn!” Tango protested, sitting up. Scott broke out of his haze, turning to look at the blazeborne as a smile stretched across his face. 

“Boys, boys, there’s enough of me to go around,” Scott joked, watching both of them blush a little darker. Tango laughed and leaned in closer, across Jimmy’s lap.

“I’m sure you can understand my frustration, when I’m the one here who saved your life,” Tango said, dropping his voice just a little. Scott tilted his head a little to the left, smirk adorning his face.

“I do believe you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?” He proposed, watching Tango’s eyes flit down his face and back up to his eyes. “Nervous, Sparks?”

“Not in the slightest,” he lied, smiling wider. Scott rolled his eyes and linked them into a kiss. Tango seemed surprised at first, but he settled into it quickly. His lips were warm, warmer than Jimmy’s. The bottom was bitten raw, but Scott found he didn’t mind (because holy shit, he was kissing Tango). Tango pressed back against him, deepening the kiss, keeping them connected longer than Scott had planned. After a moment, he drew back reluctantly. Tango was looking at him like he had just changed his whole world.

“A good enough reward?” Scott purred, leaning back farther to watch Tango stumble over his words for a second.

“I—uh—yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Actually, er, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll need another one.” Scott snorted, placing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Maybe later.” They turned back to Jimmy, who was watching them both with pursed lips and bright pink ears. Scott made eye contact with him, raising an eyebrow. “Something the matter, dear?”

“Nothing, nothing, just,” Jimmy hesitated, letting out a breath. “That was… really hot.” Scott and Tango started giggling at the same time, pressing themselves closer to him. His wings enclosed them subconsciously, and Tango’s tail sneaked up to wrap around one of Scott’s wrists. Jimmy was laughing under his breath too, head bent back so he couldn’t see their taunting gazes. “Void forbid I think my boyfriends are hot, how horrible of me!” He exclaimed dramatically.

“Aww, it’s okay Rancher,” Tango replied. “We think you’re pretty cute too.”

“You better,” he grumbled. Scott wiggled further into his side, letting his arm drape over his shoulders. It felt comfortable, safe, and calm. It felt a little like something he had been missing for years, for all his life, and it felt a lot like home. Home had been, and always would be, with the people he loved, and that was the moment he first realized that. Sitting on his couch, with two newly appointed boyfriends, laughing off awkward first kisses, was where he belonged. Belonging was a nice feeling, he decided, especially when he belonged with Jimmy and Tango.

Scott took a deep breath in, feeling the air flood his lungs without resistance. He breathed out without feeling a tickle in his throat, a constriction in his chest. Belonging felt pretty good.