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one
The very first time Grian met Joel was at the Third Life server, when he’d woken up in a cold sweat surrounded by the other unconscious players scattered all across the soft grass. He hadn’t really noticed Joel yet at that time, too busy staring at the sickeningly familiar purple wings hovering low above the sky.
Then somehow they’d stumbled across each other’s path in a nearby forest, making small talk along the way. His mind had been reeling back then, trying to keep his thoughts at bay, and trying desperately to ignore the small glints of faint purple whenever he’d look over his shoulder.
He’d never really known much about Joel at that time. In that moment, the only similarity they had was that they were both unsuspecting players in this elaborate, sick game the Watchers had so carefully crafted. Grian imagines those cruel smiles as they took all of them here, eager to watch their new show.
And then Last Life begun not too long after, and Grian had the horrible, building realization that whatever game the Watchers have made, whatever new torture they’d planned for him and for everyone, it was not going to be a one time event. And this would surely not be the last one, either.
But then something happened.
He remembers it so clearly, even now. He’d woken up again amidst soft meadows of bright green grass, but then everyone else acted the same way they did in the last game: confused, lost, and not recognizing anyone around them.
Grian was far too horrified at the thought that even here, he’d be stuck with the burden of remembering everything , that he didn’t even notice Joel’s equally panicked gaze from across the other side of spawn.
He’d only realized it when he fell off that platform in the Nether—that somebody else had this similar, cruel fate as him.
As he was falling through the air, on the way to his red life, he’d seen it from the corner of his eyes. Bright, dizzying wings and wings of vibrant purple, each one hovering above Joel’s form.
He’d woken up in a gasp again, this time with stacks and rows of questions trapped in his throat, and immediately ran over to where Joel was.
“Joel!”
Joel turned around, a sheepish smile on his face. “Hey, Grian. Uh, do you wanna be friends?”
Barely even registering the words he’d heard, Grian was already running to Joel, grabbing his shoulders in a panicked daze. Joel’s eyes flew wide open as he stopped in his tracks.
“Third Life,” Grian panted. He knew he was acting rash, but he needed to know. Now. Especially when they were still circling above Joel’s head, watching . “Do you remember it?”
Brown, shocked eyes meet his own. Grian let his hands fall to his sides. “You…”
It was only then that Grian realized the look in Joel’s eyes, just sitting there as though it’d been there for a while—like he’d seen something disturbing, like he’d seen too much , way too many memories.
“I remember it,” Joel swallowed, averting his gaze. Then, in a much quieter tone: “I remember a lot. Is it perhaps the same for you?”
The world felt like it was slowing down. “...Always been.”
They looked at each other again, this time with a newfound understanding. It was silent for a moment, before Joel spoke again.
“So…wanna be friends?”
Memories rushed back to Grian, and despite everything, he found himself smiling ever so slightly. “Didn’t you just kill me?”
“Well…”
Grian laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, why not?”
That was the very first time he really got to know Joel.
two
More often than not, Grian feels as though fate just naturally brings the two of them together. Ever since they found out about each other’s similar secret, they’ve spent more and more time together.
There was the beginning of their unlikely but very much welcomed friendship in Last Life, and then there was the ‘annoying each other’ in Secret Life. By then, they’d reluctantly accepted their destinies of this loop of killing and being killed by their friends, but still it didn’t subside the horrible feeling of memories they had to carry each season. Grian thinks it might never will.
When he’d opened his task in the third session of Secret Life, Grian could only laugh and groan in exasperation simultaneously. It was one thing to keep an eye on a player here, but Joel, one of the most reckless ones in these games? He would really very much not rather dive straight to red life at just the beginning of the season.
Alas, he could do nothing else but to tread over Joel’s base.
“I guess we’re stuck with each other again,” Joel said with a laugh, once the two of them were walking across the server. “But, well, I have things to do, I’ll see you later, I guess?”
“You don’t want me to hang out with you?” Grian said. “Oh, I see...”
“That’s—well, my task is very tricky, Grian.”
“I thought I was gonna have a friend today…” he muttered, turning away. He had to stop the smile growing on his face.
“What do you mean?” Joel says in that high-pitched tone he always uses, dragging out the last syllable. “We already are!”
Grian grinned to himself. He didn’t care, not really. Not when he knows they’ll always be together anyway, always watching each other’s backs to keep those watchful eyes at bay.
But man was it fun to keep this going.
“No, no, I get it, I get it,” Grian said, trying not to smile.
“I just—I also have a task to do…you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Joel responds, exasperated.
Grian bursts out laughing. They just knew each other too well.
“Oh my God.” Joel shakes his head, chuckling. “Well, for that, you can just stay here. I’ll let you know about the damage.”
“You’re just gonna let me know ?” Grian crosses his arms stubbornly. Yeah, still would rather not go to red at the third session. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”
Joel groans.
Grian just grins. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I know,” Joel grumbles, grabbing Grian’s hand as they continue walking.
“I guess fate has brought us together once again.”
Joel hums in silent agreement, and for a moment Grian looks at the blue sky. He’d always loved flying around the clouds, until it became a symbol for entirely something else. Now, every time he looks up, he could imagine those watchful eyes looking down on him. On the two of them.
Fate, huh.
Grian wonders if that was what it really was.
three
There was one specific moment that spurred on a million questions running through Grian’s head, a kind of ice-cold realization that came upon him seemingly out of nowhere.
The only sound he could hear was the relentless ticking of the clock tower in his line of vision, amidst all the shouting, all the fighting, all the pounding of his own heartbeats.
Once again, the two of them were left alone, being hunted down by the others, and suddenly it was Last Life all over again, when the smell of blood hung in the air. Suddenly, it was their last moments again in that season, being chased by red lives—by their friends—as they smiled despite everything, whispering secrets of ‘I’ll see you later’ to each other.
The clock was ticking close to midnight. The sounds of TNT dropping reached his ears as he hastily crafted one for Joel. The shouting of everyone’s voices were mixing in together in a hazy blur.
Then came the deafening echoes of the lightning—and Grian could only stare, could only watch.
It was midnight now, bells ringing in his ears as it announced its arrival, but all Grian could think of was how Joel was standing there seconds ago. Seconds .
If he’d been just one second quicker….
As he stood there in a daze, staring at the clock in front of him and the other players already moving on like nothing happened, Grian wonders if this is what they wanted from the beginning. If this was the reason for everything.
Because, really, was it the world who made sure they’d meet on that day, or was it the Watchers’ doing all along? To make sure they’d live in this nightmare they’d tailored just for them? To make them live this loop over and over again, burdened with memories that nobody else remembers?
Perhaps fate—no, the Watchers—brought them together so often just to pull them apart like this.
When he’d woken up once again in the next game, from a sleep that seemed way too short, his gaze instantly went over to Joel standing near him. Even though Joel was there, alive and breathing, Grian still couldn’t shake off the image of that Godforsaken clock tower ticking away as the former’s voice reached his ears— it’s not going well. It’s not going well.
He doesn’t know how long he stood there, trying to fend off the memories stubbornly resurfacing, but apparently long enough that Joel raised a brow in confusion towards him at some point. Grian shook his head, and that was that.
That was that. Limited Life was over. There was a new game, a whole new loop that would bring on more nightmarish scenarios the Watchers have prepared. That…was that.
But how could you possibly have a sense of normalcy when your friend—who just died in front of you, who you couldn't even help at his last moments—was standing there breathing again?
And Grian knows he should be used to it. Joel wasn’t the only person he watched die only to see again in the next game, after all. Maybe it’s because of their similar fates, or perhaps because, since Last Life, he’d always been the one to die first among the two of them. It was horrible, he remembers—always hovering there as a ghost, knowing he could do nothing but watch as his friend die in front of his eyes. It was the same thing in Limited Life, except he could’ve done something if he had been a bit quicker.
“You’re spacing out a lot today,” Joel told him when two of them were gathering materials.
Grian shrugs. I’m trying not to think of your death.
“Just tired, I guess,” he mumbles, turning away to craft a pickaxe.
Well, it wasn’t technically a lie. He was exhausted, but then again, who wouldn’t be after having to see their friend die?
“You should really stop being so reckless,” he mutters to himself, not really intending to say it out loud for Joel to hear, but he did anyway.
“I’ll try,” Joel says with a small laugh as he mines at some stone from the edge of a nearby mountain.
Grian replies with a half-hearted chuckle. “Please do.”
He stares at the crafting table before him, wondering how much easier things would be if they just die together each time.
four
Fate has always been a strange concept to Joel. It always felt like an abstract, gray, and intangible thing that he simply couldn’t tell if it was really there or not.
That was why, when he’d woken up from a deep slumber one day in an unfamiliar land, surrounded with both familiar and new faces as the rules of a death game was laid out before all of them, Joel did not think, for one second, that this was the work of some higher being that brought all of them together.
He hoped it was just a one-time thing, a strange bordered world with a death game in its center.
Looking back at it now, he realized just how horrifying it had been. One moment he was sleeping, dreaming on, and the next he had a blade in his hands, forced to kill these people he’d just met—as well as old friends.
He’d gathered weapons and wolves and built himself a house, alone. He didn’t really know much from the group, and as such he spent most of his time by himself. He didn’t mind, though. He was too busy trying to stay alive in this world that seemingly came from nowhere.
At some point, Joel did meet Grian, who he’d heard quite a lot from the Hermitcraft server. He remembers hoping to be friends one day, but he never would’ve thought that they actually would, and certainly not in the way that they did.
Third Life ended in a blur, but all Joel remembers is the feeling of death. It seemed so different from the usual process of dying then respawning. It felt so vivid and so real, like any moment he would never return, just floating in an endless abyss, lost for eternity.
And then came Empires. He found it a bit weird how those who were in Third Life mentioned nothing of it, especially since how much of a big event it had been. Nonetheless, Joel hadn’t really known a lot about the games at that point to care about it enough and to bring it up to them.
For a while he lived a good life there, too good in fact, that when whispers of Xornoth surfaced throughout the rulers, Joel didn’t pay any mind to any of it. But then the world was destroyed before his very eyes, leaving nothing but remnants of fallen kingdoms scattered all around him.
The numbing fear he’d felt back then as he treaded through empty wastelands devoid of people was still so vivid. He remembers staring at the lone, perfectly cut crack through the Mezelean Palace, and the sudden, deafening silence.
He thought he’d been dreaming then. Surely it had to be, right? Surely he’d wake up soon, right?
And when Joel finally did wake up (he didn’t remember ever falling asleep), it was to lingering memories and a familiar scene—he was back in the Third Life server. A brand new one, and here, he finally realized why no one had brought up the game in Empires. Nobody remembered it. Nobody but him.
Staring in disbelief as he stood there, Joel thought about how he’d walked right into a nightmare. Or maybe he was brought there. Maybe it was Xornoth and some other higher beings punishing him for not believing in them.
Fate was still such a strange thing, he found.
It turned even stranger when he found that another person had this similar sort of circumstance as him.
And now, said person was right in front of him. It seemed like whatever fate there was, it always brought them together. Or was it the two of them who naturally drifted to each other? Who knows.
“I feel like I’m always running into you,” Joel says as he carefully places a barrel on the ground, filled with new stocks for his shops.
Grian shrugs from where he’s perched at the roof of Joel’s squid ink store, his wings neatly tucked behind his back. “Don’t you want me around?”
“Not this again, Grian,” Joel groans as Grian’s laugh fills his ears.
“It’s amusing how you always fall for it.” Grian says as he hops down from the roof, landing perfectly right beside Joel. He has that annoying grin on his face.
Joel continues to restock his shop. “You don’t have anything else to do right now other than annoy me?”
Grian crosses his arms and leans against the wall of the building, smiling. “Nope. Wanna hang out at the Permit Office?”
Joel placed the last stack in the barrel before facing the other. Well, he also had nothing else to do anyway. He shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t make me wait in that creepy waiting room again.”
Grian laughs as the two of them start walking. “I won’t, I won’t.”
The office was still dimly-lit but more furnished now. Despite the absolute nightmare that was the Permit Office, Joel had to admit the place does look quite nice.
He finds a seat at the counter while Grian goes over to what seemed like the storage room, rummaging through a chest.
“What’s that?”
“Some leftover permits. I’ll be hosting a game for everyone who wants to get it, to be fair. Wanna join?”
“I’ll pass…I think I’ll avoid the Permit Office for now.”
Grian chuckles as he finishes tidying up. He settled on sitting just beside Joel at the counter. “Come on, I’m not that bad at my job.”
“You are literally being bad at it on purpose.” Joel deadpanned, raising a brow.
Grian just shrugged. “Well, what would be the fun in it if I wasn’t?” There was that annoying grin on his face again.
Joel just rolls his eyes. “You are actually insane.”
This time, Grian raises a brow, leaning forward on the counter to peer at Joel. “Of course I am.”
“Of course you won't deny being called insane.”
“I could say the same for you.”
Well, okay, that was fair enough.
For a moment, he studied Grian closely. This was the same person who’d stood by him in the Life games, the same person who was burdened with memories like him, the same person who he’d had to outlive two times.
Every time was just as horrible, just as sickening. He could still see it—suddenly, he was in Last Life again, running through the woods, being chased by red lives, hearing Grian’s shout of panic, as the sky cracks in a deafening strike of lightning. And then there was Double Life, where he’d just seen it in his communicator—the flash of Grian and Scar’s name, announcing their demise.
Maybe it was just the Watchers’ way of reminding him that no matter what he does, he’ll always be left alone in the end, anyway.
Grian tilts his head, eyes looking on in confusion. “Calm down with the staring, jeez.”
Joel blinks. For a split second, there he was again in the forest, echoes of Grian’s voice lingering heavily in the air. And then he blinks again and Grian is right there in front of him, peering at him, an easy smile on his face.
“I was just spacing out,” he replies, embarrassed. Technically true.
Grian laughs. “We can go back, if you’re tired.”
Joel shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. Just…”
Just don’t die in front of me again, for goodness’ sake.
“Let’s just stay here for a bit.” He says instead.
Grian hums, leaning back. “Okay.”
five
Cherry blossoms fell all around him, like soft, drizzling rain, and for a blinding moment Joel's entire world blurred into indistinguishable shapes of bright, bright violet. He was back there again, amidst a sea of distorted memories, caught in its relentless waves. He could barely hear his own voice, panicked and confused, over the rush in his ears.
It felt just like yesterday. Like if he closes his eyes for a bit too long, he’ll wake up in that room again. Like if he thinks about it too much, he’ll end up there again.
“Oh, you’re here early!”
Joel turns around and sees Grian on his way. They were supposed to have a meeting here in a few minutes, something about the Magic Mountain group. He supposes (and hopes) that will be a distraction enough for the building waves of purple-hued visions in his head.
“What’s this for?” Joel eyes the lever on the ground, raising a brow.
“Don’t mind that,” Grian said, taking a seat beside him.
It was just the two of them again, like it always seems to be. Between running into each other or waking up in the games beside each other, they always seemed to just be on the same path.
Like our curses, he thinks.
“Why did you do all that? To get me out of there.” He was speaking before he could even think about it.
For a moment, Joel imagines his death—all darkness and secret nightmares caved from the depths of his heart wrapping around his lifeline, tearing him away from this forsaken world. He wonders how different things would be, if it would be his final, real death. He wonders how Grian will react to it.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Grian replies, and Joel thinks of those words flowing away into the skies like clouds. Words only they would hear. Words only they would understand.
Were they like those clouds, too—always being separated, and always finding each other nonetheless?
Or maybe, the thought creeps up to his mind before he can shake it away, it’s because of them.
“You could’ve left me there,” Joel said. He doesn’t even know why he’s saying it. “Why did you spend all those days thinking of how to get me back? You—you used your Watcher abilities to get me back. Why?”
“I hate using those powers. It’s a reminder that I’m just like them, that they made me like this.” Something akin to fear flashed in Grian’s eyes as he spoke. He must’ve realized it, too, because he shook his head at whatever memory he momentarily re-lived. “But I didn’t want to just stand there and watch you die, either. I couldn’t .”
It was all so strange and yet all so comforting at the same time. Somewhere in between the haze of his mind, Joel wonders if this is all he’s been chasing for since everything began. Like clouds, he muses. Like clouds that always seem so out of reach.
But now Grian stood before him, the same Grian who, time and time again, always seems to be there no matter where he goes. It was like an invisible thread pulling them together, something so similar yet so different from soulbonds.
A puppet string, his mind says, before he could thwart the thought away. The puppet strings bringing them together in this messed-up, neverending plays curated by those watchful eyes.
…But what if it was something else entirely? What if it were heartstrings, and they were the ones intertwining it like spools of rope, so strong that even the Watchers couldn’t break it?
Joel swallows. The wind rushes at his ears, but he feels like he can breathe easier. “I would’ve done the same. For you, I mean.”
Grian smiles slightly, and for a second Joel could almost see it—their heartstrings growing closer, growing more firm with each honest word spoken. No more secrets, Grian said before. Maybe they were actually getting there, slowly but surely.
+1
There was blood on his hands. Bright, red, flowing blood.
He stumbled backwards, staring in disbelief because there was no way this was happening, no, this was not happening. It couldn’t.
But the pool of blood at his feet was too bright, and the lifeless eyes boring into his own trembling ones were much too vivid.
“No, no, no—”
He’d thought about this before; about this very sight of the blood stained, purple-tinted wings lying like this on the ground before him. About this image of Grian’s too-still figure in front of him.
Joel stares at his hands, splattered in red.
Grian’s dull eyes stared back at him, but it almost seemed to hold a glare.
And then, his mouth moved, as if speaking words without volume. Joel understood it, though. He understood perfectly what he was saying.
You killed me. You killed me. You killed me.
He was vaguely aware of shaking his head vigorously and stepping away, but the words still seemed to drum through his head even through the deafening silence. It was a hum in the air, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Still, Grian’s body remained right in place on the bloodied ground.
“I didn’t—this isn’t—”
He flinches as he collides with something, turning around. But one look at Grian, who now stood in front of him, with his wings torn and dripping in blood, made him freeze all over again.
“It’s not real? Is that what you were going to say?” Grian said, so monotone and expressionless and so different from the light, sometimes teasing tone Joel was so used to hearing from him. “It might not be right now, but it might become reality soon.”
Grian places both of his bloodied hands onto Joel’s shoulders roughly before Joel could even as much as blink. His wide eyes meet Grian’s lifeless, gray ones.
“You will always be a pawn in our game, no matter how much you try to destroy it. You can’t escape, Joel. Both of you. We’re in every corner, always watching.”
Joel gasps as he’s pushed backwards. He reaches out a hand, but the floor beneath him gave away and the last thing he saw was not Grian, but a figure dressed in black and purple. With its large wings at its back and blinding violet eyes staring down at him, Joel could almost hear its laughter as the darkness came to catch him.
The room was spinning when his eyes flew open with a gasp.
His heart was pounding, thrumming violently like a creature clawing its way out of a cage. Joel slowly sits up, shaken and dizzy, and takes a look at his hands. Clean and devoid of blood.
Always watching.
A cold shiver went through him as Joel swallowed through his dry throat. He clutches his head, getting up from the bed shakily.
It had only been a dream but…
…but it might become reality soon.
The image of Grian’s lifeless eyes flashes through his mind in an instant.
No, no, no. This has to be one of their tricks again, right? That had to be it. Or maybe he’d just been way too shaken from the recent events that he’d started dreaming of…whatever that was.
But he couldn’t shake it away, like an itch under his skin that wouldn’t go away, relentless and overwhelming.
So he quickly grabs an elytra and flies to the other side of the mountain, his heart racing and his mind reeling. Somewhere in his jumbled-up thoughts, Joel wonders if this is what Grian felt when he’d been trapped in that glass room.
He lands a few feet away from Grian who was organizing some chests on the ground. Despite knowing he was safe, Joel still couldn’t help sighing in relief.
“Grian!”
Grian whips his head around in a daze. “Wha—”
“They’re not here, right? Please tell me they’re not.” Joel was saying before he could stop himself, breathing a little heavily.
Grian opens his mouth to answer, but stops as if contemplating. His confused eyes soften slightly as he shakes his head. “They’re not, but…are you okay?”
“I—” He barely even registered the dull ache at the back of his head, or the fatigue steadily growing. But then Grian’s concerned gaze suddenly turns into that lifeless, blood-stained expression again, and Joel stumbles in shock.
“Joel?”
“No, I’m…” Joel shakes his head, taking a steadying breath.
No more secrets, okay?
“I—” But how could he just say it? That he had a dream that seemed suspiciously like an omen? That I had nightmare of killing you ?
“Whatever it is,” Grian said. “It’s not real.”
…yet.
Joel shakes his head, sighing shakily. “How do you just know what to say?”
Grian smiles slightly, shrugging. “I’ve had my share of nightmares.”
Joel looks at him for a moment. “But what if it becomes real one day?”
“Then we fight them, like we always do,” Grian says firmly, something like a flame of determination and fight in his eyes. Like before, Joel imagines that invisible string between them, growing firmer, stronger. Maybe it would be enough. Maybe it would be more than enough. “We’ll fight them before they can make it real.”
Despite everything—the fear and the exhaustion and the growing ache in his head—Joel finds himself smiling. “You really do know just what to say, don’t you?”
“Best friends, remember?” Grian grins.
Best friends. Maybe they could’ve been just that. Just the two of them together, wandering the world in search of adventure amidst the grass at their feet and the cool wind guiding them away. If there was a world like that…
Joel thinks about it fondly. A world where there are no watchful eyes, no danger waiting for them in the dark, no blood forever on their hands, no unwelcome thoughts about losing each other for good, no fear of closing their eyes and waking up to the familiar green names above their heads. It would just be them, and that invisible thread between them was not stained with their blood, born out of endless fighting and desperation to keep one another, but of joy. Of pure, irrevocable joy.
The world was not that kind to them. The world here was controlled by beings that only wish to bring them together just to tear them apart, over and over again.
Joel thinks of those dull eyes staring right at him. Of the words he’d heard before being thrown into the growing darkness swirling like vines all around him.
Silently, he makes a promise to himself. When… if that day comes, he’ll claw his way out of whatever nightmare they’ll make again, and the two of them will escape, no matter how long it will take.
As long as they had each other, perhaps it would be enough.