Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grian added 15 users to the chat.

Grian named the chat “Class Project” 

Grian: Hello all and welcome 

Jimmy: Grian we don’t have a project together

Grian: oh I know 

Scott: well why is this chat called class project then?

Grian: it’s my project

Cleo: and you need us why?

Scott: ^^

Jimmy:^^

Joel:^^

Lizzie: ^^

Martyn: ^^

Ren:^^

Scar:^^

Pearl:^^

Impulse:^^

Bigb: ^^

Gem: ^^

Etho: ^^

Bdubs: ^^

Mumbo: ^^^

Grian: Well you see, I have a game idea

Joel: Grian what does that have to do with a class project 

Scar: oh my god wait!! The project for psychology!

Grian: yes precisely scar
Grian: I can’t actually explain it because that would ruin it! 🤗

Grian: anyway! We’re going to play a game…a Minecraft game 

Jimmy: Excuse me?

Grian: we all played a lot of Minecraft in high school, so I coded some stuff and it’s going to help with our game!

Joel: what if I don’t want to play 

Grian: I mean I can’t force you to do anything but I think you’d like to play

Gem: well go on
Gem: explain it then 

Grian: ok! So! 
Grian: 3rd life is a Minecraft SMP with a twist! Everyone will be getting 3 lives, on your first life, you will be green, when you are green you are passive, and everyone just plays normal Minecraft. After you die once, you become a yellow life. When you’re yellow, nothing really changes, but you have to be careful. Once you die as a yellow, you become red and hostile. Red names can attack whoever they want whenever they want, but once attacked anyone can fight back (even green or yellow names.) Once you die on red, you are out. 

Joel: I want to play

Grian: I knew you would

Joel: Lizzie says she also wants to play

Jimmy: I’m going to beat you ALL. 
Jimmy: just you wait

Scott: I bet you anything Jimmy dies first 

Jimmy: excuse me
Jimmy: I’m an excellent Minecraft player

Scott: .
Scott: Anywho! I want to play.

Gem: I’m in as well! 

Skizz: count me and impulse in!!!

Impulse: I didn’t say I wanted to???

Skizz: yeah but you do.

Impulse: I mean, true.

Etho: Bdubs and I will play

Cleo: I’ll play!

Ren: ^^

Martyn: ^^

Pearl: sounds fun I wanna play

Mumbo: I'll play

Bigb: yes 

Grian: you’re a man of many words, B

Bigb: yes 

Tango: Hecks yeah I'll play!

Grian: Great! We're all in agreement then!
Grian: Now, everything is all coded and set up, so we can start our first session tomorrow if that works for everyone!

Joel: Tomorrow is Saturday so it should be fine

Jimmy: You say that like none of us have plans outside of school

Joel: Jimmy do you ever hangout with anyone besides the people in this group

Jimmy:... Yes I do, actually.

Joel: Who then?

Jimmy: Well, sausage, for one

Grian: tim sausage lives 3 hours away 

Jimmy: shut up

Joel: my point has just been proven 

Etho: Okay can everyone shh now me and Bdubs are trying t
o watch a movie 

Grian: Okay Okay everyone, the first session is tomorrow at 11:00am, clear your schedules people! 

Scar: Will do!

Grian: This is going to be SO FUN

- - - - - - -- - - --- 

Scar started a new conversation!
Scar added Grian to the conversation

Scar: Hello Grain!

Grian: Who's this Grain character????
Scar: Grian* autocorrect of course
Scar: Anyway! Are you doing anything right now?

Grian: uhh no? just making sure the coding runs smoothly for 3rd life. 
Grian: whats up

Scar: Great! I may or may not be outside your door

Grian: Pardon?

Scar: Open the door Grian :)

- - - - - - - - - - -- - 

Grian furrowed his brows, staring down at the message from Scar. He quickly got up from his desk and made his way over to his front door. He swung it open, and lo and behold, there stood Scar. Grian stifled a laugh at the sight of his friend, who was shifting from foot to foot as he waited.

"Scar!" Grian exclaimed, unable to stifle his laughter this time. "What are you doing here?" He opened the door wider and beckoned him inside.

Scar shrugged, smiling. "Dunno. Just felt like visiting you; it feels like we haven't hung out in a while," he said, plopping down onto the couch.

A pang of guilt struck Grian. He hadn't hung out with anyone, really, in a while. He'd been so busy with school, coding, and his family...

With anyone else, he could brush it off, make some excuse about being busy, and change the subject. But Scar? Scar was different. Scar was special. He had always been there for Grian, even when he was undeserving, even when he was completely horrible to him.

"I'm sorry," Grian said, frowning. Scar looked up at him, confused at first. Then Grian saw the worry in his eyes, and he wanted to die.

"Are you alright, Grian?" he asked, somehow seeing through him just as he always had. Grian resisted the urge to scowl, to close up, to be mean. He took a deep breath, faking a smile.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice a tad too high. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, trying desperately to convince Scar.

Scar frowned. "I don't like it when you lie to me," he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Grian hated to see his friend down, and he hated even more that he was the sole reason.

"Scar..." Grian started, unsure how to make him happy. "How about we just watch a movie or something? Please? We can talk about it later, I swear."

Scar looked unsure but nodded reluctantly. "Alright. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything."

Grian swallowed harshly as he willed the tears building up in his eyes to disperse. He nodded, unable to say anything else.

After a moment of calming himself down, he grabbed the remote and sat next to Scar on the couch. "What do you want to watch?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm," Scar rubbed his chin in thought. "Star Wars."

Grian huffed out a laugh. "Of course." He turned the TV on and opened Disney Plus, quickly putting on the first Star Wars movie.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep.

--

Scar was worried about Grian.

Everyone else thought he was insane. They thought Grian was fine, just busy, but Scar? Scar knew better. Grian didn't just disappear when it came to Scar. With others? Sure, he got a bit swamped and would forget. But with Scar, he had always been different. Even when Grian "hated" Scar, he still never went more than a week without speaking to him.

Today was the first time in three weeks that Scar had even heard from Grian.

He'd called him, he'd texted him, he'd knocked on his door. Nothing. Scar had spent the past three weeks hanging by a thread, his worry increasing as the days went by. Logically, he knew Grian was fine (physically, at least), but Scar still spent countless hours worrying about his friend.

But then, all of a sudden, Grian was making a group chat for some project. At first, Scar was angry. Did Grian not know that he had made Scar unable to sleep for countless nights? Was he blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil he was causing Scar?

After a while to think about everything and calm down, he wasn't angry anymore. But the worry had grown.

Scar huffed a humorless laugh as he thought about the logistics of this. Grian was the most infuriating person on Earth, but Scar could never stay angry at him. He just had that effect on people. Or maybe he just had that effect on Scar?

The feeling of Grian shifting beside him on the couch startled him out of his thoughts. The movie they'd put on was long over, and they were halfway through a different one.

"Scar?" Grian mumbled sleepily, groggily sitting up from the awkward position he'd been laying in. "You're still here." It wasn't a question, but Scar replied anyway.

"Yeah, G. I'm still here." He smiled at him. "I hope that's okay. I know you fell asleep but—"

"That's fine—of course that's fine!" Grian said quickly.

Strangely, Scar noticed, Grian looked as if he was close to tears. As he came to this realization, his heart shattered. "Grian. I'm here, okay? I'm always going to be here. Do you understand? Always."

Grian’s eyes widened, tears immediately falling. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be crying—I'm sorry," he said, wiping aggressively at his eyes.

Scar grabbed his hands gently, pulling them away from his face. "Grian, what are you sorry for? For crying? It's okay, G, it's okay to cry." He soothed gently, pulling Grian into a hug.

"There's no justifiable reason for me to be crying. You shouldn't have to put up with this. You shouldn't have to put up with me," he said, choking on sobs.

Scar ran a gentle hand through his hair, shushing him. "Nope. None of that, Grian. I'm not putting up with anything. I'm being there for a friend," he told him, holding him closer.

"But—" Grian started.

"Nope. Hush. Cry all you want. Scream, cry, hit me; I don't care. As long as you're okay. I never want you to feel like you need to repress your emotions around me, okay?"

Grian nodded. He'd grown awfully still, but he continued to sob, and Scar continued to hold him. Whatever he needed, he would be there.

After a few moments of nothing but Grian’s sobs and the gentle words of reassurance from Scar, Grian had finally calmed down enough to speak.

“Why?” he asked, his voice raw. Scar furrowed his brows.

“Why what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Why do you care so much?” Grian answered, fidgeting with a button on Scar’s shirt absentmindedly.

Scar… admittedly didn’t know himself, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the crying boy in front of him. “You’re my friend, Grian; why wouldn’t I?” he said instead, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Grian bit the inside of his cheek, confusion heavy on his face. “But… Everyone else—Pearl, Jimmy, Joel, hell, even Mumbo—they just let me be alone when I shut them out. Sometimes they’re even angry at me for a while,” he explained, speaking in a tone that sounded like he was trying to figure out a riddle. “But you? You’re different. You’ve called, you’ve texted. I ignored you, and you’re still here. Hell, a couple of years ago I hated you, but you’re. Still. Here.” He rambled on. Scar could tell he was getting worked up again.

“Grian,” Scar tried, but the man wasn’t listening. He pushed away from Scar and continued to speak.

“Why are you here? Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me, Scar. You shouldn’t be holding me while I cry; you should hate me!” He yelled, tugging at his hair.

“Grian!” Scar tried again, louder this time. He walked over to where Grian had wandered, taking his hands and hugging him again. “I could never hate you,” he whispered into Grian’s hair. “You’re my best friend.”

Grian just nodded into his chest, whispering quiet words of gratitude. Scar rubbed his back, steadily pulling them back toward the couch and carefully lowering them onto it. “Go to sleep, G. I’ll be here,” he whispered softly.

After a few short minutes, Scar felt Grian’s breathing steady, and he let himself fall asleep as well.

--

When Grian woke up, he didn’t open his eyes. The only thought he could form was, ‘It’s cold.’

The conversation he’d had with Scar rushed back to him. The man’s promise echoed in his head: I’ll be here, he’d said.

Grian opened his eyes, and his heart promptly plummeted. Where the heck was he? Where was Scar?

All he saw were trees for what looked like miles. He had never seen a forest like this near his university. Never.

As panic clawed up his throat, he stood up, trying to spot anything familiar. He found nothing, but if he squinted, he could see light off in the distance.

He wandered over toward the light, finding a weird-looking symbol surrounded by torches and what he was pretty sure was bedrock. From Minecraft? What?

He shook his head, focusing back on the symbol. It looked like a weird broken rectangle.

·﹃

﹄·

In the middle of the symbol sat a chest. Grian inched toward it, slowly reaching over and opening it.

There was just a note. He picked it up, unfolding the paper with shaking hands and reading it quickly. He frowned.

‘You thought you could escape us, Xelqua? You thought you could break free?

You are incapable of getting rid of us. You’d think you’d have caught on by now.

You were always meant to watch.

Anyway, as punishment, we’ve taken your wings! Don’t worry. If you’re on your best behavior and give us a good show, you can have them back in no time!

—Watchers.’

Grian had… a lot of questions. Who’s Xelqua? What is a Watcher? Wings? He groaned tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. He crumpled up the note, slipping it into his back pocket, and then made his way toward another group of lights, this time significantly larger and a bit more scattered. As he neared the lights, he spotted houses, his eyes widening. He broke into a run, spotting a group of people gathered in a circle, seemingly deep in conversation. As he drew closer, he realized those weren't just any people.

No, that was everyone. Everyone from the chat. Everyone who was meant to participate in the game. His eyes scanned the group frantically, and when they fell on Scar, everything felt okay for a moment.

"Scar!" he yelled, breaking into a run.

Grian saw the moment Scar's eyes fell on him, the flicker of affection in his eyes, and the wide smile that grew on his face. "Grian!" he yelled back, watching with wide eyes as Grian stopped in front of everyone. Grian threw himself into Scar's arms, briefly forgetting that there were other people around.

He heard a cough from behind him, and he awkwardly stepped away, his face flushing. As he turned around, he was faced with fourteen different smirks.

"Ahem. Hi," Grian said awkwardly.

"Hi there," Scott said, a poorly suppressed laugh bubbling out of his throat. "Nice of you to join us here."

Grian laughed nervously. "Yeah… Does anyone know where here actually is?" he asked, still looking around. His surroundings were... weird, to say the least. He hadn't seen a town that looked like this in person. Like, ever.

Everyone simply stared at him blankly, no one having an answer to his question.

"Great!" Grian deadpanned sarcastically.

"But that's fine!" Scar said enthusiastically. "We're all here together!"

Grian heard several of the others groan.

"Scar, I have a class on Sunday!" Jimmy complained, pouting.

"Oh hush, Tim, live a little," Grian said, ignoring the panic in his chest at the fact that he had no clue where they were.

"So we're just not going to talk about the fact that we all just woke up here?" Cleo said, raising a brow.

Grian sighed, trying to think of a reply—anything to ease people's nerves.

Martyn spoke up first. "Does anyone else think that this town looks suspiciously like a Minecraft village?" he said, pointing at the houses surrounding them. "Has anyone actually seen any of the residents here?"

Grian looked closely at the houses. Martyn had a point; the houses did look like Minecraft houses. He stepped toward one of them, peering through the window.

"Oh my god," he whisper-screeched as he saw the person (?) sleeping inside. "That is not a human. That is not—oh my god." He breathed out, stepping backward and bumping into Scar.

Scott, Martyn, and Etho walked up to the window to see what the fuss was about, all looking back with wide eyes and similar reactions to Grian.

"That's a villager," Etho said, eyes still wide.

"If I hadn't just seen it, I'd call you insane," Scott replied, blinking hard, as if to change what he had just seen.

Everyone slowly made their way to the window to peek through, all of them turning back with similarly shocked faces.

"Anyone else think it's weird that we're just peeping through that guy's window?" BigB said, obviously attempting to lighten the mood.

Scott snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's fine; he doesn't even realize."

Jimmy gawked at the two of them, moving away from his conversation with Tango at the sound of the two of them. "We're ignoring the fact that 'he' is a villager? We're not going to talk about how we're in a Minecraft village?" he ranted, sounding utterly frazzled.

For some odd reason, an image of Jimmy flashed in Grian's head. But not this Jimmy. A Jimmy who had bright, yellow wings. He ignored it in favor of looking at Scar, who seemed a bit deep in thought.

"Scar?" he said quietly, watching the man come back to his surroundings.

"Yeah, G?" he said, a comforting smile slipping onto his face in an instant.

“You zoned out for a second there. Are you okay?” Grian asked, gently bumping their shoulders together.

“I’m fine. I mean, sure we don’t know where we are, but at least we have each other. At least I have you,” he said, pausing for a moment. He coughed awkwardly. “And Bdubs. And Cleo, and Skizz, and Gem, and Mumbo, and everyone else.” He added, his face flushing.

Grian laughed at his friend fondly. “You’ve always managed to be so optimistic. I’ve never understood it,” he told him.

“It’s easy to look on the bright side when you remember the people you love,” Scar replied casually, a bright smile on his face.

Grian’s face heated up rapidly, admiration for his friend being the only emotion he could feel in that moment. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. You’re a smart man, GoodTimesWithScar,” he said with a wink.

Scar chuckled at the use of his Minecraft username. "As are you, Grian," he replied, a grin on his face.

And even if they were lost in the middle of nowhere, presumably far from home, Grian had never been more sure that he’d be fine.

Chapter Text

Grian had struggled with his memory for as long as he could remember. It was something he’d grown used to, but after spending 24 hours in this strange village, everything felt different. He was experiencing flashes—visions of himself and his friends that looked completely off, sometimes as if they weren’t even human at all. It was unsettling.

The images flickered in and out of focus. Sometimes he saw them laughing together, surrounded by a colorful landscape, but other times the scenes turned dark and twisted, filled with shadows and unfamiliar faces. Grian tried to push these weird visions aside and focus on what was important: figuring out where they were and how to get back home.

Last night, after wrapping their heads around the idea that they might be stuck in a video game, Grian still found himself confused. Was this some kind of shared dream? Had he messed up the code so badly that it sent them to his game? They had spent hours discussing how they got there, each theory sounding more ridiculous than the last. Finally, they found a big, empty house and settled in for the night. The place was quiet but eerie, with wooden floors creaking under their weight. Sleep didn’t come easily, and Grian kept tossing and turning, haunted by strange thoughts.

When he woke up the next morning, the world outside was still dark, with just a hint of light peeking over the horizon. It felt strange to be awake at this hour, so he looked around to see what might have disturbed his sleep. The house felt unusually quiet, as if it was holding its breath.

As his eyes scanned the room, he quickly noticed that Jimmy was missing. A frown crossed his face as he got up and stepped outside, hoping to find his friend on the porch. The air was chilly, a stark contrast to the warmth of the house.

Luckily, he spotted Jimmy sitting on the steps, looking nervous, his fingers tapping against his knees. Grian approached cautiously, sensing the tension in the air.

“Tim?” Grian called out, trying to get his attention. “What’s up? Why aren’t you asleep?”

Jimmy grimaced and bit his lip, clearly anxious. “I want to tell you something, but you’re going to think I’m crazy,” he said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Timmy, we’re probably in a Minecraft village, with real villagers—everything is crazy right now. Just tell me what’s going on,” Grian urged, trying to sound supportive and calm.

“I keep seeing these… visions? I don’t really know how to explain it. Some are happy, some are sad. I don’t know where they’re coming from. And they’re… strange. It’s like it’s me and our friends, even you, but… we’re different. Not human,” Jimmy explained, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke.

Grian’s eyes widened in shock. “What? You’re having them too?” he blurted out, surprised.

“Too? Are you seeing them as well? Is this some weird side effect of being in this village?” Jimmy asked, his eyes wide with worry, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

Grian shrugged, his thoughts racing. “I don’t know, maybe? Has anyone else seen stuff like this?” he asked, desperately searching for answers.

Jimmy shrugged back, looking defeated. “I haven’t asked anyone else. Honestly, I thought I was going crazy,” he admitted, a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

"That’s fair," Grian replied, trying to gather his thoughts. "When everyone else wakes up, let’s ask the others together, okay?" he suggested, wanting to tackle this together.

Jimmy smiled gratefully and nodded. "Yeah," he said simply, looking much calmer now. He paused for a moment, as if lost in thought. "Hey, Grian?" he said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I’ve missed you, you know. We all have."

Grian swallowed hard, feeling tears prick at his eyes. "I know. I’m sorry," he said quickly, knowing his apology wouldn’t mean much. "I just— I got buried in schoolwork, and my family’s been..." He trailed off, not wanting to go deeper. "It’s just been a lot. I’m really sorry."

Jimmy looked at him, a strange sadness in his eyes. "It’s alright, G. I get it. But if you ever need anything, you can talk to us. You're basically my brother; you can tell me anything." He gently took Grian’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly.

Grian smiled back, squeezing Jimmy’s hand in return, silently begging himself not to cry again. "Thank you, Jimmy."

Jimmy just smiled back, his expression warm and reassuring. They sat there for a while, sharing stories, able to forget their troubles. They laughed and reminisced, talking about the countless adventures they’d had together. By the time others began to wake, the sun was high in the sky, and smiles were firmly planted on both of their faces.

--

Scar woke to complete chaos. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out where all the noise was coming from. It was like a storm of voices swirling around him, each one louder than the last.

"Well, how is it my fault there’s no food, Gem? I didn't bring us here!"

"I literally never said that! Not everything is about you, Joel!"

"You heavily implied it, though!"

Just as Scar was about to interrupt the bickering, Grian walked into the house (with Jimmy trailing closely behind), groaning loudly, effectively drawing everyone's attention. Scar quickly stood up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the situation.

"Let's all calm down! We're here; it’s nobody's fault we don't have food, and nobody is blaming anyone. I could hear you two from outside! Now instead of fighting, let’s find food?" Grian said, causing Joel and Gem to share sheepish smiles, realizing how ridiculous their argument sounded.

Scar smiled at Grian. It was nice to see him take on a sort of leadership role. Honestly, it was kind of cute. Wait. What? Scar quickly pushed that thought to the back of his mind, not having time to dwell on it.

"I have an idea!" Scar said, drawing everyone’s attention again. "If we’re in Minecraft, why don’t we just play like normal? If we need food we can—" he cut himself off. "I was going to say punch a cow, but that doesn't seem right. Maybe we can do what we can with the crops here at the village?" he suggested, shrugging.

Grian smiled, gesturing wildly to Scar. "You see this man? He knows what he's talking about! This is how we solve problems!" He laughed. "Now what do you all say? Divide and conquer? We'll split into groups and gather as much as we can. It’s a pretty big village. Let’s meet back here in an hour or two."

Everyone nodded in agreement, rearranging themselves into groups. Scar instantly made his way to Grian's side, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of working together.

"But wait. What about the villagers? Are they going to do anything? Is stealing from them going to cause them to die?" Ren asked, concern evident in his voice once everyone was in their respective groups.

"Uh. I don't know that they're going to do much. They didn't bat an eye at me and Jimmy when we were out on the porch earlier. As for them dying... They should be able to replant the seeds themselves if we're going off of Minecraft. But maybe replant anything you take anyway?" Grian replied, and Ren nodded, reassured.

Just as Scar was about to turn around and head for the door, Grian spoke up again, addressing everyone.

"Uh. Sorry, one more thing," he said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Me and Jimmy had a chat outside." He gestured toward Jimmy.

Jimmy straightened, trying to appear more confident. "Basically we've been having these odd… visions?" he said, sounding unsure of himself.

Scar furrowed his brow in confusion. "What? What do you mean?" he asked.

Jimmy and Grian exchanged a glance. "Well, I’m not sure. They’re weird. It’s almost as if it’s us but in another world or something. For example, yesterday when I looked at Jimmy, I got this weird flash of him, but he had bright yellow wings. Things like that," Grian explained.

Jimmy nodded. "And I’ve seen similar things. Some with you all, some without you, and some with people I don’t even think I know, but they feel familiar."

Scar frowned in confusion. He hadn't experienced anything like this. One of them getting these visions could be stress or something, but Jimmy and Grian? That was too weird to be a coincidence. Scar opened his mouth to speak, only for BigB to beat him to it.

"Me too. I've seen weird things as well, though I don’t think it’s as strange as you guys’. I just keep seeing portals," he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Martyn raised a hand. "I've been getting them too," he said, stepping forward slightly. "Especially the portals," he added, looking around at everyone else.

Everyone paused for a long moment, all looking at one another, before Gem spoke up. "Pearl's been having them too," she said almost casually.

Pearl squawked. "And how did you know that?" she asked incredulously, her eyes narrowing at Gem.

Gem shrugged. "You talk in your sleep."

Scar looked around at all of them, wondering if anyone else remembered anything. Everyone was silent, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air.

Grian sighed after a moment. "Well then. That’s really odd. What are the chances that we’re the ones who got the visions and we also grew up together?" he asked, gently gnawing on his lower lip.

Everyone was silent, lost in their thoughts. Not a single one of them had an answer.

Scar cleared his throat, putting on a smile. "Well, that’s not normal!" he said cheerily. "But that’s probably something we should get into later. We don’t want to lose any time, and I’m sure we’re all quite hungry. So we should probably head out!" he added, gently pushing everyone outside.

Grian shot him a grateful smile, which he happily returned, and they set off, each group determined to gather food quickly.

--

Grian and Scar walked in relative silence. They only spoke to point things out, but the silence was comfortable—not suffocating, like Grian was used to.

They’d been out for about an hour when the sky began to darken. Grian frowned. “Scar, am I losing my mind, or is it getting dark already?” He glanced at the sun, which had dipped dangerously low on the horizon.

Scar looked around, seemingly unaware of his surroundings—typical for him. “That’s weird,” he replied, his brows furrowing in confusion.

Grian groaned. “Nothing can ever be normal here, can it?” He quickly picked up some wheat before abruptly turning back toward their starting point.

“Where are you going?” Scar called, jogging a little to keep up.

“Back to the house. It’s getting dark, and we don’t know what’s out here,” Grian replied, as if it were obvious, which it was.

Scar frowned. “But that wasn’t the plan! If we don’t stick to what we originally decided, everyone will get confused!” he protested.

Grian shook his head. “If we stay out, we risk getting hurt. That’s just common sense. They’ll know to go back to the house.”

“Well, I’m going to stay here and keep looking,” Scar insisted, refusing to budge.

“Fine,” Grian said, narrowing his eyes. “But if you get hurt, I swear I will—”

“I’m literally incapable of getting hurt!” Scar interrupted with a bright smile, turning in the opposite direction.

Grian scoffed and continued his way back to the house.

After a few moments of walking, however, he realized how foolish it was to split up. What if Scar was attacked? What if Grian himself was in danger? The farther he got from Scar, the more his anxiety grew. By the time he reached a distance where the moon hung high in the sky, his heart raced with worry.

Groaning, he turned around and headed back in Scar's direction, unable to bear the anxiety any longer. It only took him about ten minutes to find Scar, thanks to his quick pace and the fact that Scar had hardly moved.

The moment Grian spotted him, relief flooded his body, easing the tension in his muscles.

At least, it did—for a moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grian noticed it: the ugly green creature, straight out of Minecraft. Under any other circumstances, he might have laughed, but the sight of the Creeper mere steps away from his friend sent panic coursing through him.

Scar finally noticed Grian’s presence and smiled, waving enthusiastically. “Hi Grian! Look, flowers!” he called, still blissfully unaware of the danger looming nearby.

Grian’s eyes widened as the realization hit him: Scar was about to be blown up.

“SCAR!” he shouted, urgency in his voice.

But it was too late.

A loud explosion echoed through the air.

He was too late.

All that remained of his friend was a flower—a single, bright poppy.

That was all.

Chapter Text

The scream that pierced the air was visceral and excruciating. The sound shattered the silence, hitting Jimmy's ears like a freight train. Heart racing, he whipped around, desperate to pinpoint its source.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward where he believed the sound had originated, his mind swirling with concern. His only comfort was that Tango was right behind him, matching his pace effortlessly.

He turned corner after corner until the sound of sobs began to reach him, echoing through the air. He skidded to a stop at the sight before him: Grian, his friend , hell, his brother, was crumpled on the ground, the red of his sweater stark against the vibrant red poppy he clutched in his hand. He sat in a hole in the ground, surrounded by ash.

“Grian? Grian, what’s wrong? Where’s Scar?” Jimmy's voice trembled, panic evident in his tone. Another wave of sobs erupted from Grian, who couldn’t bring himself to respond.

Jimmy glanced at Tango, a silent plea for help in his eyes.

Tango moved closer to Grian, crouching down beside him. “Grian, we need you to tell us what happened. Where’s Scar?” he asked gently, placing a comforting hand on Grian’s shoulder.

Grian met Tango's gaze for a long moment, then his eyes flickered to Jimmy before dropping to the ground.

“Dead,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jimmy froze, the weight of the word crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“What?” he whispered, his mind struggling to process the words.

Grian scoffed, his eyes wild. “Scar is dead, Jimmy. And it’s my fault. I killed him. It’s my fault.” He repeated the words like a mantra, the insane look in his eyes growing more intense with each repetition.

Jimmy swallowed hard, confusion clouding his mind. “I don’t understand,” he said weakly, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Scar—the man who had always been kind, always helpful, always there—was gone.

“He would have been fine,” Grian choked out, his voice breaking. “He would have been fine, but I left. I should have made him come with me. I should have—” He cut himself off with a shuddering sob. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. He’s dead.”

The weight of Grian’s words hung in the air, suffocating and inescapable.

After a moment of shock, Jimmy pushed past Tango and sat down next to Grian, gently pulling him into a side hug. “It’s not—it's not your fault. I don’t know the full extent of what happened, but I know you’d never hurt him. It’s not your fault, Grian,” he soothed. Tango remained frozen in shock, unable to process the scene unfolding before him.

Grian looked at Jimmy incredulously, shaking off his grip as he stood up. “No, Jimmy, it is! I was the one who insisted we go back to the house when the sun got low! I was the one who decided to leave without him! I didn’t even—” His voice broke, anguish etched across his face. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. A creeper. A fucking creeper, Jim. A creeper took him from me." 

Jimmy's brows furrowed, a pang of hurt striking deep within him, but more prominently, a wave of fear washed over him. “A creeper?” he asked, his voice trembling. “As in—”

“The fucking Minecraft mob, yes! In case you haven't noticed, we're in a video game!” Grian snapped, frustration spilling over.

Jimmy suppressed a wince, and the sharpness of Grian's anger seemed to break through his blind rage. He let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” Grian said, his tone softening. Though he might have been apologizing for his outburst, there was an added layer of remorse in his voice. Jimmy shook his head and waved a hand dismissively.

“It’s okay. He meant a lot to you. To all of us,” he replied gently, taking Grian's hand and pulling him into a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry, G. I know how much he meant to you. To everyone. He was always there for all of us. I—” His voice faltered, and he choked on a sob. “I’ll miss him.”

“Miss who?” a voice called from behind them. A very familiar voice. But... it couldn’t be?

“Scar?” Tango exclaimed, a disbelieving laugh escaping him. “What? But I thought—?”

Before Tango even had the chance to finish his statement, Grian let go of Jimmy and pushed past Tango, throwing himself into Scar's arms. “I thought you were dead!” he cried into the man’s shirt. After a moment, he pulled back, confusion etched on his face. “Actually,” he whispered, “how are you not dead? I watched you die.” Tears continued to spill from his eyes, glistening on his cheeks.

Scar frowned, gently wiping the tears from beneath Grian’s eyes.

Jimmy exchanged a glance with Tango, shooting him an incredulous ‘are you seeing this?’ look. The interaction felt charged, almost romantic, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was unfolding before them. 

Which—good for them, but here? In the middle of nowhere, which may or may not be a video game?

“I think… well, I think I was dead,” Scar said, his tone shockingly casual. Grian’s eyes widened, and he released Scar completely, stepping back in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” Grian asked, his voice rising. “You couldn’t have been. You’re here. You’re fine.” He sounded nearly manic, repeating the words as if they were a lifeline. “You’re fine.”

Scar nodded, his expression steady. “I am. But I wasn’t. I exploded, remember?” He spoke as if discussing the weather, completely unbothered.

Grian looked down, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Scar. I’m so sorry. This was all my fault. I did this to you. I’m sorry.” His voice broke, his guilt heavy on his features. Jimmy felt a tightness in his chest as he thought about how Grian was blaming himself. Deep down, he understood it wasn’t Grian’s fault, but he worried that Grian might never see it that way.

Scar furrowed his brows, clearly confused. "What do you mean? That wasn’t your fault at all. You couldn’t have known he was going to show up like that. Plus, I’m right here, and I’m fine." He paused for a moment, letting out a small sigh. "Although, I have to admit, I’m pretty worn out."

Grian's eyes widened as if he had just realized something important. "Of course! We’ll get you back to the house right away," he said, gripping Scar's hand tightly, clearly afraid to let go. Jimmy noted to himself that he needed to talk to Grian about this later; he had never realized how much they meant to each other until now.

Scar, however, seemed completely unfazed by being pulled along. He happily followed Grian, repeatedly reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault.

Jimmy smiled for a moment, feeling warmth at the sight of his friends’ happiness. 

Speaking of friends, he reached for Tango's hand, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Come on, Tango, let’s catch up!" he said, playfully pulling him along after the two men ahead, laughing as he stumbled a bit.

Yeah, they would be alright.

--

Scar was mostly confused.

One moment, he was smiling at Grian and waving him over. The next, he felt a sharp, excruciating pain, and then everything went black. It was as if he were watching the explosion happen from outside his own body.

Then he woke up.

At first, he thought it was just a bad dream or that he had been knocked out. He could never have imagined that he had actually died, but here he was now, a little over an hour later. 

Everyone had returned to the house, bringing bread, carrots, and potatoes. They all gathered in the main room, sharing stories about their adventures. Most had similar tales—nothing too exciting—but soon all eyes turned to Scar, Grian, Jimmy, and Tango.

Interestingly, Grian hadn’t spoken to anyone but Scar since they arrived, and he didn’t seem inclined to start now.

Jimmy and Tango exchanged knowing glances before turning to Scar. Tango raised an eyebrow expectantly, prompting Scar to clear his throat. "Uh, our day was a lot more eventful," he said weakly, trying to make a joke. The others just stared at him, confusion and curiosity written on their faces.

Scar sighed, unsure how to explain. "I think I... died?"

He was met with about ten blank stares.

"What?" Cleo exclaimed; shock clear in her voice. "What do you mean? You don’t look dead to me." Worry creased her brow as she spoke.

Scar huffed, trying to sound unbothered. "Well, I’m not dead anymore," he replied, as if that was obvious—because it was. "Anyway, Grian and I split up when it got dark. He wanted to go back, but I wanted to keep collecting resources." He began to explain. "After a while, Grian came back for some reason—I’m not sure why," he muttered, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Anyway, he came back, I called him over, and then I blew up, all of a sudden. Next thing I knew, I woke up here." He rushed through the story a bit. "I found Grian, Jimmy, and Tango all together, and then we came back." he finished, finally looking up at everyone. 

He was met with matching looks of horror on all of his friends faces. 

"What do you mean you blew up?" Pearl asked, her expression eerily blank. Scar didn’t respond, choosing instead to avert his gaze to the ground.

“Scar. What do you mean you blew up?” She repeated, her voice tinged with growing concern.

Grian cleared his throat, finally breaking his silence. “He was blown up by a creeper,” he said, clenching his jaw. “And I think I’m starting to understand what’s happening here.”

Bdubs stepped forward, frustration etched on his face. “Being cryptic isn’t going to help any of us! Just spit it out already!” he snapped.

Scar took a deep breath, trying to diffuse the tension. “You don’t need to snap at him, 'Dubs,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “That won’t help any of us.”

Bdubs muttered under his breath, irritation bubbling just below the surface. Etho pulled him aside for a quiet word, sensing the rising tempers. Shaking his head, Scar turned his focus back to Grian, who sighed heavily, running his hands down his face.

“We’re in Minecraft, obviously, but look.” Grian said, pulling off his sweater to reveal his shoulder.

On his skin was a heart—green and pixelated, as if lifted straight from the game.

Scar furrowed his brows. “Did you get a tattoo, G?” he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Grian shook his head, a fond laugh escaping his lips. “Check your shoulder, Scar." he said, and then after a beat, "Actually, all of you probably should.”

Scar frowned but, curiously, pulled off his shirt. He caught a glimpse of a faint blush on Grian’s cheeks as he did so.

Looking at his shoulder, Scar gasped in surprise. There it was—the same heart, but yellow.

He glanced around, noticing that everyone else was inspecting their own shoulders too. His frown deepened as he realized that all their hearts were green, just like Grian’s.

“Why is mine yellow?” Scar asked, pouting slightly. “What makes me so different?”

Grian shot him a deadpan look. “You died, Scar,” he reminded him, his voice tight as if the words caused him physical pain.

Understanding began to wash over Scar. “So, what, every time we die, we get a cool new tattoo?” he joked, a playful smile spreading across his face.

Grian offered a small smile in return, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Not quite,” he replied. “I think.." he started, sighing deeply. "I think you can only die three times. On your first life, you’re green and peaceful. In your second life, you’re yellow, and you’re still peaceful. But on your last life, you’re—”

“Red, and hostile,” Etho finished for him, his eyes wide with shock. “We’re in your version of the game?” he asked, shifting nervously.

Grian simply nodded.

“So, what happens after we turn red?” Jimmy asked, anxiously picking at his fingers.

Grian looked down, avoiding Jimmy’s gaze completely. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Scar fought to push down the rising panic in his chest. “Well, it’s fine. All of this is fine, because none of us are red yet, and we’ll figure out how to get out of here before that can even happen,” he said, trying to fill his voice with certainty.

Grian finally met his gaze, tears glistening in his eyes. Scar couldn’t help but smile gently as he pulled Grian close, resting him against his bare chest. “It’s fine, G. None of this is your fault,” he assured him, knowing deep down that Grian still blamed himself.

Everyone took this interaction as their cue to shift their attention elsewhere. They resumed their own conversations, allowing the men the privacy they needed. Laughter and chatter filled the air as the group scattered, leaving Scar and Grian to their moment.

And if Scar felt warm tears soaking into his chest, no one had to know.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day unfolded slowly; a welcome break filled with quiet moments. Grian made a conscious effort to mask the unease brewing in his chest, determined not to let it disturb the peaceful atmosphere around him. His friends seemed eager to unwind, seeking comfort in the present and hoping to momentarily forget the weight of their shared reality. He watched as they laughed and chatted, appreciating their need for this temporary escape, but the tightening in his own chest wouldn’t quite let him do the same.

It wasn’t that easy for him. He wished it were. To his dismay, Scar had clearly picked up on his worry. If Grian were less selfish, he might step back, retreat to a quiet corner, and let his thoughts churn in private, sparing Scar the burden. But deep down, he knew he had never been the most selfless person. Being away from Scar felt unbearable, especially after what had happened. The weight of the incident—a flash of anger, a moment of weakness he couldn’t take back—clung to him, making it hard to let Scar out of his sight. He’d almost lost him once.

After about an hour of avoiding Scar’s glances, Grian realized he was fighting a losing battle. Scar had finally seemed to give up trying to catch his eye and chose instead to confront him directly.

“Grian,” Scar said, a frown etched into his features.

Even with his friend right in front of him, Grian kept his gaze fixed on his hands, where his fingers were picking at the skin around his fingertips. He barely managed a noncommittal hum in response.

Scar sighed, sounding more frustrated than anything. “Stop that,” he urged, and a mix of exasperation and worry crept into his voice.

Finally, Grian met his gaze. The familiar guilt and pain rose up within him, something that always seemed to surface when he looked at Scar now. “Stop what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Scar shot him a deadpan look. “Stop picking at your fingers.” He reached over, taking Grian’s hands and pressing them gently to his sides. “And stop ignoring me,” he added, his tone laced with hurt that Grian didn’t miss.

An old, familiar frustration flared in Grian’s chest, like he was caught in some invisible trap he couldn’t escape. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of his words before he even spoke. “I’m sorry, Scar. I’d love to talk to you, but everyone’s happy right now, trying to forget all this—” he waved his hand vaguely, letting his words trail off. “I can’t do that. So I want you to spend time with them, and we can talk later. Okay?”

Scar considered his words in silence before replying. “No.”

Grian blinked, surprised. “No?”

Scar nodded firmly. “I don’t need you to force yourself to be happy. But I won’t let you be sad and alone. What kind of friend would I be?” His voice was steady, almost defiant, leaving Grian without much room to argue.

Grian scoffed inwardly, trying to push back the warmth Scar’s words stirred within him. Of course. Only Scar would say that, putting everyone else first, like always. He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. What had he done to deserve that kind of loyalty?

“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “So what’s the plan? Sit here and mope together? Talk about how anxious I am?” He raised an eyebrow, testing Scar’s resolve.

Scar shrugged nonchalantly. “If that’s what you want? Sure.” His expression was calm, as though it were the most obvious answer.

Grian was left momentarily speechless. “And what do you want, Scar?” he managed, still incredulous.

“I want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.” Scar’s tone softened, his gaze never wavering.

A rush of warmth made its way into Grian’s chest, and despite himself, he smiled. “God, what did I do to deserve you?” he muttered, half to himself, voicing his thoughts without meaning to.

Scar’s brow rose, and a playful glint appeared in his eye. “You don’t have to do anything. You deserve me just because you’re you,” he replied with a light shrug, as if it were the simplest truth in the world.

The words washed over Grian, disarming him. How could Scar believe that? He had always thought friendships were earned through effort, through proving himself worthy. But what kind of friend had he been lately? It felt impossible that someone like Scar could genuinely want to stick around after everything. Surely Scar must have questioned his judgment, even once, after the way he’d acted.

But Scar was still there.

Silence lingered between them, and Scar’s expression grew serious again, a small frown pulling at his mouth. “You’re a good person, G. You deserve good friends,” he said, voice low and earnest. His hand twitched, as if he were about to reach out again, but he hesitated. “So, then—shall we talk about it? Or mope?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a soft, playful smile.

Grian’s gaze softened, and he let out a sigh, feeling the tension of the conversation press down on him. “We could… take a nap,” he suggested, intending to sound sarcastic, but the words were genuine, too. A nap sounded blissful, an escape from the relentless worries, even if only for a little while.

Scar’s eyes lit up instantly. “Sure!” he agreed with an eagerness that surprised Grian. He plopped down onto the bed Grian had claimed, sending Grian’s face into a blush.

“What? Scar! That’s my bed!” Grian protested, his voice rising in disbelief.

Scar looked up at him with genuine confusion. “Yeah? You wanted to nap. There’s plenty of room for both of us. You’re tiny anyway,” he said with a grin, as if that settled everything.

Grian sputtered, searching for a retort that wouldn’t sound as flustered as he felt. “But—you—” His thoughts raced, caught between embarrassment and a strange, undeniable comfort.

As if realizing something, Scar’s face shifted, and he sat up slightly, his expression contrite. “Oh! Are you uncomfortable with that? Sorry! I should’ve asked—or, uh, maybe not done that at all. I’m—”

“Scar.” Grian interrupted, summoning as much calm as he could muster. He managed a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease Scar’s worry. “It’s fine. We can… share the bed.” He stumbled over the words, hoping Scar wouldn’t notice the flush that had returned to his cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

Scar’s face broke into a wide grin. “Oh! Okay, come on then!” He patted the bed, an open invitation.

Grian bit the inside of his cheek, feeling both nervous and strangely at peace as he joined Scar. The bed was snug, just big enough to fit them both, so close their shoulders nearly touched. Grian snuck a quick glance at the others in the room, relieved that no one seemed to notice them. The soft murmur of their friends’ laughter and chatter melted into the background, comforting him. He didn’t want anyone to draw attention to them right now; the thought made him blush even more.

Scar was warm, his presence radiating a gentle heat that made Grian feel oddly at ease. He stifled a yawn as his eyelids began to droop, his body succumbing to exhaustion. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Scar chuckling softly before draping an arm over him. The gesture was so casual, yet it felt natural. The bed, with its soft sheets and Scar’s reassuring warmth, was a haven, and Grian allowed himself to sink into it.

The last thing he felt before slipping into sleep was Scar’s arm resting over him, a comforting weight that chased away his anxieties, if only for a moment. Scar’s steady breathing lulled him, the rhythm calming him as he drifted off. Scar’s warmth surrounded him like a blanket, easing his troubled mind.

But as sleep deepened, shadows began to stir in his mind. Dark, twisted images broke through the peace, whispers filling his dreams with a haunting urgency. The warmth of Scar’s presence began to fade, replaced by purple eyes, and shadows that clawed at him, tearing away the comfort he’d barely begun to accept.

The nightmares had come again, as relentless as ever, but this time, different. There were cloaked figures, with hundreds of eyes. He tried to scream, only to find that no sound came out. 

He blinked, and his vision cleared just enough to take in the grim scene before him. Surrounding him in a silent, ominous circle, the middle of it containing the same symbol that had been near the chest he found in the forest, were the lifeless bodies of his friends, scattered across the ground like broken dolls. 

Well, most of them.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim, purple glow, he finally saw them—the cloaked figures. Their faces remained shadowed, their expressions hidden, but something familiar lurked behind those cloaks. His heart pounded as he focused, pushing past the fear. Then, he recognized them. The first figure’s grin cut through the darkness like a knife; it was Martyn, staring back at him with a twisted, malicious smile. He shivered as he recognized the next face—Pearl, her eyes cold and unfeeling. Jimmy was there too, and then Bigb, each face hauntingly familiar yet horribly wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the last figure.

It was himself.

A tremor shot through him as he stumbled backward, desperate to escape the horrifying sight. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The images wavered and distorted, like a glitch in reality, flickering with an eerie, unnatural rhythm. The purple, ghostly eyes that surrounded him pulsed, narrowing their focus as they floated closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer—

With a strangled gasp, he jolted awake, his body lurching as if he could physically throw off the nightmare. His hands clutched the sheets beneath him, his whole body shaking violently as he struggled to steady his breaths. Sobs wracked his chest, spilling out uncontrollably as he tried to grasp the lingering fragments of terror that the dream had left behind.

He felt hands pressing down on his shoulders, firm and unyielding. Panic surged through him, and he screamed, thrashing desperately, his body instinctively fighting to break free.

“Grian!” a voice called, sharp yet familiar, piercing through his fear. He forced his eyes open, and through his haze, he recognized Scar, right beside him, gripping his shoulders with a mix of strength and gentleness. Scar’s face was drawn with worry, and a hint of exhaustion, as if he'd been asleep a moment prior. His brow furrowed in a way that deepened the lines of concern around his eyes.

Grian’s gaze darted around the room, the remnants of his nightmare still clinging to him. But something was wrong. The room, once filled with beds and the quiet conversation of his friends, was now eerily empty. His stomach twisted. “Scar... where is everyone?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper as he took in the absence of the others.

Scar looked away briefly, then followed Grian’s gaze, his face flickering with realization. “Oh... Right,” he said quickly, his tone rushed but reassuring. “They all went to claim different houses around the village. Figured we’d need more space, you know? Not enough houses for everyone, so some of us are sharing. This one’s ours.”

Grian nodded, swallowing hard as the words sank in. The tension in his chest loosened just slightly, but the unease still lingered.

Scar shifted uncomfortably, then cleared his throat. “Hey... are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening, though his tone remained cautious, as if afraid of shattering whatever fragile calm Grian was clinging to.

Grian met Scar’s gaze, wrestling with the urge to hide his vulnerability, to brush it off with a dismissive shrug. But the moment their eyes locked, he felt his defenses crumble. The weight of the nightmare, the silence, and Scar’s steady, worried eyes—it all came crashing down.

And just like that, he broke, falling into his arms.

Scar just held him, his arms wrapped securely around Grian’s trembling frame, letting him cry. He whispered soft reassurances into his hair, words meant to soothe, though he knew they could only ease so much of the pain. Every now and then, Scar gently squeezed him, as if his touch alone could hold the pieces of Grian’s frayed spirit together.

Gradually, Grian’s breathing began to steady, each shaky exhale growing longer than the last, and the flood of tears finally slowed to a halt. He blinked, his vision still blurred, and pulled in a deep, uneven breath.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, wincing at the raw, scratchy sound of his own voice. He tried to muster a smile, forcing a bit of humor into his tone. “I’ve really got to stop doing this to you.” But the words fell flat, carrying too much honesty to feel like a joke.

Scar’s face softened with understanding. “Hey, it’s fine,” he said gently, his voice steady. “Sometimes... we all just need to cry. No shame in it.” He paused, considering his next words. “Do you want to talk about it? The nightmare?”

Grian froze, his body going rigid in Scar’s arms. The warmth of Scar’s embrace, the quiet closeness of the moment, all seemed to vanish in an instant. He pulled away, turning his back to hide the turmoil still churning inside him. “No,” he replied, his tone clipped and final.

He felt the familiar weight of the folded paper he'd found in the woods in his pocket, and his fingers twitched, the urge to reach for it almost overwhelming. It would be so easy to take it out, to let himself get lost in the words scribbled there. But he knew what that would invite—questions he couldn’t face, not now. So, instead, he clenched his fists, resisting the temptation, and forced himself to hold back.
Grian risked a glance at Scar, but immediately regretted it. The hurt in Scar’s eyes was unmistakable, a quiet sadness that twisted Grian’s stomach with guilt.

Scar sighed softly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t know why you push me away, Grian. I just want to help,” he said, his voice gentle but weighted with concern.

Grian shifted, turning back to face him. “I’m sorry. It’s just… the nightmare was worse this time. It’s not like—” He stopped abruptly, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t want to delve into the other nightmares, the ones tainted with memories of his parents’ cold voices, their harsh, dismissive words still echoing in his mind. No, that wasn’t something he could bear to relive right now.

He took a shaky breath, looking down. “It’s… it’s the worst one I’ve ever had, I think.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and he closed his eyes, letting the admission settle over them.

Scar’s face softened further, his expression one of quiet empathy. “I’m sorry, G,” he murmured, reaching out as though he could ease Grian’s pain just by being near. “What can I do?” The desperation in his voice was subtle but clear—he wanted, needed, to do something, anything, to make this easier.

Grian shook his head, hesitating before he spoke. “Just… stay here?” he whispered, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. The request felt vulnerable, almost childish, and he worried Scar might see it as weak.

But Scar’s face lit up with immediate understanding, and he nodded without hesitation. “Of course. I’m right here.” He paused, considering. “Do you want to try to sleep again?” he asked, his voice laced with a careful gentleness.

As much as Grian wanted to say no, his exhaustion betrayed him, and a deep yawn escaped. “Sure,” he mumbled, his words heavy with fatigue. Without thinking, he leaned against Scar, resting his head on his shoulder as they lay back together.

In the warmth of Scar’s presence, Grian found an unexpected calm, as though Scar was a steady anchor holding him in place, easing the lingering shadows of the nightmare. His breathing began to slow, his muscles loosening as he drifted into Scar’s comforting embrace.

Before he knew it, Grian was asleep, sinking into a deep, undisturbed slumber, his mind finally free of dreams. 

This time, there were no nightmares, only the quiet, dreamless peace that he had longed for.

Chapter Text

When Scar blearily opened his eyes the next morning, the first thing he noticed was the cold, empty space beside him. The warmth that had been there the night before was gone, and so was Grian. A jolt of panic surged through him, his chest tightening as he sat up abruptly, his eyes scanning the room.

But then, his gaze landed on Grian’s familiar figure near the small, makeshift kitchen area. Relief washed over Scar like a wave, the tension in his shoulders easing as he watched his friend, seemingly engrossed in cooking something over their rudimentary fire. Grian hadn’t even noticed Scar was awake, his movements calm and purposeful. For the first time since they'd gotten here, there was a lightness in the way Grian carried himself, a stark contrast to the broken man Scar had comforted the night before.

Scar felt a warm smile tug at his lips as he watched. He looks better, Scar thought with a quiet happiness. Better than he had any obligation to after everything they'd been through. The sight of Grian upright and focused filled Scar with cautious hope.

He opened his mouth, ready to call out to him, to make a teasing comment or even just say something encouraging, when his eyes caught on something that made him pause. Their belongings—what little they had managed to scavenge from the abandoned village—were no longer scattered around the room. Instead, everything was packed away neatly, sitting near the door as if ready to go.

Scar’s brow furrowed. That hadn’t been the case yesterday. His smile faded slightly, replaced with a flicker of unease. What’s he planning? he wondered silently, his gaze darting back to Grian, whose back was still turned.

“Grian?” Scar called skeptically, his voice breaking the quiet. “Why’s all our stuff by the door?”

Grian jumped, letting out a sharp curse as he spun around. “Jesus, Scar! You scared me!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest as if his heart might leap out.

Scar stifled a laugh, raising his hands in mock apology. “Sorry,” he said with a grin he didn’t bother to hide. “But seriously, why did you pack all of our stuff?” His curiosity was plain, his tone softening as he pressed for an answer.

Grian sighed, setting down the spatula he’d been holding. “This might sound weird,” he began, hesitating. “But I talked to the others, and we figured... if this is supposed to be a game, maybe we should treat it like one?” His voice lifted slightly at the end, as if the thought wasn’t fully settled in his own mind.

Scar frowned, one eyebrow arching. “What do you mean by ‘treat it like one’?”

Grian shrugged, glancing away for a moment before answering. “We’ve noticed some things. Breaking stuff? Easier than it should be. Same with building—it just works differently, almost like it’s meant to. So I thought... maybe we shouldn’t stay in the village. Maybe we should leave, you know? Scott and Jimmy already left to find somewhere else to settle.”

Scar’s frown deepened slightly as he processed Grian’s words. “So, you packed everything for us to leave too?”

Grian nodded. “Yeah. I thought we could find somewhere quiet to build a little shelter. Maybe... maybe the only way through this is to act like we would normally in Minecraft.”

As he spoke, Grian returned to the fire, plating the breakfast he had been making. Scar finally noticed the smell—eggs, their edges golden and slightly crisp. Grian handed him one of the plates, his expression cautious, as if unsure of how Scar might react.

After a moment of silence, Grian nervously added, “Of course, that’s only if you want! I just assumed you’d want to base together because... I don’t know. Sorry, if that’s not what you wan—”

“Grian.” Scar’s voice cut through the rambling, firm yet reassuring. “Of course I’d like to build a house with you! Oooh! Can we build in the sand biome? I saw one near here!” he said, his excitement bubbling over.

Grian raised an eyebrow, pausing for a moment before bursting into laughter. “The desert, Scar? You want to build in the desert? Of all places?” he asked, his tone tinged with fondness.

Scar nodded eagerly. “Yeah! We could make people pay for the sand! We’d have the monopoly, Grian, think about it!”

Grian giggled again, shaking his head. “Scar, what would people possibly want sand for?”

Scar froze, his expression shifting as he thought. After a moment, he perked up. “Uh... TNT!”

Grian considered Scar’s suggestion for a moment, fear flickering briefly in his eyes. But just as quickly, it was replaced by a spark of determination. “You know what? Sure. We can monopolize the desert,” he said with a firm nod, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Scar beamed, his excitement infectious. “Yes!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist in triumph. The enthusiastic gesture drew a laugh from Grian, the sound light and genuine.

After finishing their breakfast, they checked in with their friends to let them know where they were headed, then set off on their journey.

They were about halfway to the desert when they saw it—an off-white llama standing alone, casually chewing on a patch of grass. Scar’s face lit up instantly as he veered off course, making a beeline for the creature.

“Hello there, fella! Aw, look at you! Who’s a handsome guy?” he cooed, his voice softening into a playful, baby-like tone as he crouched down slightly. “Grian! Come here, look! His name is Pizza!” he declared proudly, as if the name had been a long-standing decision instead of something he’d just come up with.

Grian chuckled as he walked closer, a fond smile on his face. “Scar, where do you plan on putting the llama?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

Scar frowned thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “We’ll build him a little shack too. Right next to our castle,” he declared confidently. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a lead he’d taken from the village and carefully looped it around Pizza’s neck, making sure it wasn’t too tight.

Grian stared at him, wide-eyed. “Castle? I’m not Bob the Builder!” he cried, though his gaze had already drifted off, clearly beginning to imagine how they’d even go about constructing a castle.

Scar shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s fine! I’ll help!” he said with a grin.

Grian just shook his head, a laugh escaping him despite himself.

They quickly resumed their journey, walking in comfortable silence. After a few more minutes, the vibrant green grass beneath their feet gave way to the beige sand of the desert, the air seeming to shift with the landscape.

Scar inhaled deeply, letting out a satisfied sigh as a dopey smile spread across his face. “Home sweet home,” he said cheerfully, nudging Grian with his elbow. “Come on, let’s set up some of our stuff.”

Grian nodded, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “Race you to the top of that mountain!” he called out, already taking off at a sprint.

Scar narrowed his eyes, a competitive grin spreading across his face as he bolted after him. He let out an exhilarated cry of joy as he passed Grian, the rush of the chase filling him with energy. Moments later, Scar reached the top of the mountain, turning triumphantly to stick his tongue out at Grian.

Grian rolled his eyes and returned the gesture before shifting his focus to their surroundings. He surveyed the mountaintop, noting its relatively flat terrain. Scar was already thinking the same—it was a perfect spot for building. Grian seemed to agree, grabbing some spare wood from his inventory and starting to construct something.

Scar tilted his head, watching curiously as Grian worked. When he was done, Grian held up what was unmistakably a pickaxe. His eyes shifted to the lower part of the mountain. “Scar, I’m going down there to grab some of the sandstone. We might be able to use it for this castle you’re talking about,” he explained, already making his way down.

Scar gasped, his grin widening with excitement. “A sandcastle in the desert—that’s so smart!” he exclaimed, mostly to himself, since Grian was already halfway down the slope.

Scar sighed, pausing for a moment before quickly constructing a chest to organize the assortment of items he was holding.

It was strange, he thought, how crafting and building worked in this place. It resembled real life in some ways, but it was... simpler. That was the only way he could describe it. Everything felt easier than it should, as though it were designed to be intuitive. Scar couldn’t decide if he was grateful for the convenience or unsettled by the unnaturalness of it all.

Shaking his head to clear the thought, he focused back on his task, absentmindedly placing items into the chest.

After only a few minutes, though, Scar was drenched in sweat. One undeniable downside to the desert, he realized, was how brutally hot it was. Not that it bothered him too much. With a shrug, he stripped off his shirt and continued sorting through the chest, the sweltering heat now slightly more bearable.

A bit after he finished organizing, Scar had begun to grow worried, his gaze scouring the trees that were just past the desert for any sign of his friend, but soon after, he realized that torches were popping up all over the desert. 

'Smart man.' Scar thought to himself. 

Soon after, Grian came clambering back up the mountain, his arms laden with sandstone—and, to Scar’s surprise, some wood as well. Grian must have ventured into the nearby forest during his trip.

Scar waved as Grian approached, grinning. Grian opened his mouth to greet him but froze mid-sentence, his gaze landing squarely on Scar. More specifically, on Scar’s bare chest.

Scar tilted his head, amused, as Grian’s face flushed a deep shade of red.

“Wha—Scar! Put your clothes back on!” Grian sputtered, his voice rising in a mix of exasperation and embarrassment as he tried to scold him.

Scar frowned, confusion written across his face. “But Grian, it’s hot! I can’t work in this heat with all that cloth on my body!” he protested, genuinely baffled by the issue.

Grian sputtered in response, letting out a series of incomprehensible sounds that Scar couldn’t have explained even if he tried. The mixture of exasperation and flustered indignation was, frankly, hilarious to watch.

Eventually, Grian gave up, throwing his hands in the air with a resigned sigh. “Fine,” he relented, though his tone was far from pleased. “But when you’re done working, you need to put your clothes back on!” he demanded, wagging a finger at Scar in what he assumes is an attempt to reclaim some authority.

Scar grinned at Grian, giving him a playful nod. “Well, absolutely, Grian! No need to be walking around shirtless for no reason! What would the people think?” he said dramatically, the exaggerated tone making his words even more ridiculous. He knew full well they’d probably end up revisiting this conversation later.

Grian sighed again, shaking his head at Scar’s antics, which only made Scar’s grin widen.

Not wanting to dwell on the topic, Grian quickly changed the subject. “I’ve got plenty of materials now, so we should be able to get started on this life-sized sandcastle,” he said, laying out the sandstone and wood before stepping back, excitement radiating from him as he bounced slightly on his heels.

Scar nodded along, his expression bright with agreement as he resisted the urge to smile too fondly at his friend’s enthusiasm.

Scar noticed that once they’d sorted all their materials, Grian immediately threw himself into the work. It was as if something in his brain had flipped, his focus completely consumed by the task at hand. There was no denying it—Grian was a natural builder.

Scar did his best to help, pitching in wherever he could. But after a while, he realized he might actually be slowing Grian down with his constant questions about what he should do next. Not wanting to disrupt the flow, Scar decided to start a project of his own.

About an hour later, he stepped back to admire his handiwork: a tall board proudly displaying the names of all their friends in this strange world.

At the top, in bold letters, it read:

'Reputation Board'

Below the heading were the listed names, each accompanied by a column of points. For now, all of the points sat at zero. Scar figured that as the game progressed those points would rise, but for now, everyone was equal. 

Except Grian, of course. He wasn’t on the board. Why would he be? There was no need to keep track of how Scar felt about Grian—because that would never change. Scar had made the decision not to include him, and it felt right.

Once Scar finished admiring his work, he turned his gaze toward Grian and the base. His jaw dropped as he realized it was nearly finished, needing only a few small touches that could easily wait until morning. The sky above them was already fading into the deep hues of twilight.

Scar frowned briefly, noticing once again how short the days seemed here. It was strange, but ultimately, he shrugged it off.

Making his way around the base, he found Grian standing in front of the door, his arms crossed as he admired his handiwork.

“Holy shit, Gri,” Scar said breathlessly, his voice full of awe. “And to think I was proud of what I’ve been doing for the past hour.” He nudged him playfully, a grin tugging at his lips.

Grian let out a soft laugh, the fondness in it unmistakable. “It’s not the best, but it should do. It’s—”

“Perfect,” Scar interrupted firmly. “Hell, it’s home.”

Grian glanced at him, a timid smile gracing his face. They stood there together for a few moments, quietly taking in the sight of the base.

Abruptly, Grian startled, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Wait, what did you make?” he asked, tilting his head.

Scar’s grin widened as he grabbed Grian’s hand, pulling him toward the other side of the base. “Tada!” he exclaimed, gesturing proudly to the reputation board.

Grian took his time processing it, his eyes scanning the names and points. After a moment, he smiled, a look of fond amusement on his face. “It’s very you, Scar,” he said warmly. He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Wait... where am I?”

Scar chuckled. “Well, it’s our board, silly. It’s to keep track of how we’re doing with other people, you know? So I figured you didn’t need to be up there.”

Grian nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense.” There was a brief pause before he glanced at the darkening sky. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s getting dark, and I really don’t want to deal with monsters tonight.”

Scar followed Grian without a word, humming softly to himself as they stepped inside their new base.

Weirdly, a chest sat in the middle of the room. Scar’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Grian, only to find his friend wearing an equally confused expression.

Frowning, Scar approached the chest and opened it. Inside were two strange devices—bulky, almost like oversized phones. Scar guessed they were for communication, though he couldn’t be sure. Beneath them lay a small piece of paper. The writing on it was loopy and elegant, far more ornate than anything he’d ever seen his friends write.

Scar picked up the note, holding it so Grian could read along with him. There were only two words written before the sign-off:

“You’re welcome.”
-Watchers

Beneath the signature was an unfamiliar symbol:

··﹃

﹄··

Grian inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as they landed on the symbol. His reaction set off alarm bells in Scar’s mind. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but before he could get the words out, the devices let out a sharp, alerting sound.

Scar’s attention snapped to the screen of the device in his hand. His breath hitched as he read the message displayed there.

His fingers trembled, and the communicator slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

“Skizzleman was slain by Enderman.”

Chapter Text

Grian wasn’t sure how, but he was now completely certain that this was his fault. Somehow, something he had done had pissed off a higher being, and now his friends were being punished for it.

At first, Grian had just assumed it was his tendency to blame himself for everything that went wrong. But something deep in his chest told him, with a certainty he couldn't shake, that this time, it really was his fault.

The moment his eyes landed on the symbol, staring up at him in the confines of his new home, he knew. He had excused himself immediately after being notified of Skizz's death, his heart in his throat.

He found himself sitting outside, near Scar's reputation board. Tears stung at his eyes, causing him to rub them harshly. He bit back a sob, refusing to let these evil entities get to him. Things were happening. His friends were dying. Crying wouldn’t help. No, he had to think.

Whatever was going on, it wasn’t normal, and it couldn’t be explained with any of his knowledge of science. He had no idea what to do about it.

He groaned in frustration, tugging at his hair roughly. God, he was useless.

Grian sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the original note. The words seemed to glare up at him, the quickly fading letters mocking him.

‘You thought you could escape us, Xelqua? You thought you could break free?

You are incapable of getting rid of us. You’d think you’d have caught on by now.

You were always meant to watch.

Anyway, as punishment, we’ve taken your wings! Don’t worry. If you’re on your best behavior and give us a good show, you can have them back in no time!

—Watchers.’

Something about the note bothered Grian, unsettling him to his core.

Xelqua.

The name felt familiar. It felt personal. Like it meant something important—or like—

It belonged.

A noise behind him snapped Grian out of his thoughts. He jumped up, grabbing the nearest thing to him, which just so happened to be a stick.

"Woah!" Scar said, raising his hands in surrender. "Sorry, G. Just me."

Grian’s shoulders slumped, all the tension leaving his body at once.

"It’s fine, Scar. You just startled me," he mumbled, turning his back to the man.

Scar was quiet. This should’ve been the first red flag.

Grian sat back down, still not facing the man. He didn’t flinch when the sound of footsteps approached him.

He did, however, flinch when a cold hand landed on his shoulder.

Scar was never cold. He was a furnace, even when he wasn’t in the middle of a desert.

Grian’s blood ran cold. He quickly looked back, hoping, praying, begging any god who could hear that the figure behind him was, in fact, Scar.

No such god answered.

The cloaked figure smiled down at him, its face a dark shadow, only revealing dozens of purple eyes and sharp teeth.

"Hello, Xelqua," the figure spoke, though its mouth never moved from that horrible smile. Grian couldn’t move—an unknown force held him in place. "I think it’s time you remember. I think it’s time they all remember."

The figure let go of Grian’s shoulder. In the time it took for the information to register, Grian blinked, and the figure was gone.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, there was pain.

Grian fell to his knees—when had he stood? A cry escaped him. Flashes of memories surged through his mind, then full ones.

—

"No!" he screamed. "I don’t want to be a god! I never wanted to watch!"

Watcher One stood in front of him, clearly annoyed. "Xelqua, you need to get a hold of yourself this instant. I don’t have time for your silly little temper tantrums!" The Watcher spat, grabbing him and tugging him harshly by the wing. Grian winced in pain.

"Please! Let me go! I don’t want to terrorize players! I didn’t ask for this!" he sobbed, trying to fight his way out of the god’s grasp.

One growled, all of its eyes glaring at Grian. "Shut up!" the entity snapped. "If you want to be difficult, I’ll just have to discipline you accordingly." It said, a sick grin splitting its face.

Grian screamed as Watcher One reached for his wings again.

--

Xelqua had fucked up. Again. He swallowed harshly, breathing quickly.

"Xelqua!" Watcher One’s voice boomed. Grian—Xelqua—jumped.

"One, please—" he started. One raised a hand, silencing him.

"No. You have proven once again to be a problem. Obviously, your punishments aren’t harsh enough. So, we’re trying a new approach."

Suddenly, the air shifted, and Xelqua’s breath hitched as he felt the presence of players.

Watcher One grinned as the players came into view. 

"No!" Xelqua yelled. 

Pearl.

Jimmy.

Martyn.

Bigb.

Watcher One nodded. "Yes!" It said back gleefully. The god snapped it's fingers, and all of a sudden, Xelqua's family was screaming.  

Xelqua screamed with them, physically unable to look away as his loved ones were tortured. "You said they'd be fine! You said you wouldn't hurt them! Please!" He cried. 

Watcher one smiled. "I lied." 

--

Xelqua had a plan.

No.

Grian had a plan.

He was going to get them all out of this, or he was going to die trying. Either way, his family would be safe.

He checked over his plans one last time before sneaking into the void where the other Watchers kept everyone else.

"Pearl!" He hissed quietly, trying to wake her. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes.

"Wha?" she mumbled sleepily. After a moment, she seemed to realize where she was, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Grian? What the hell is going on? You can't be here, it's not safe!" she said urgently.

Grian shook his head. "No. No, Pearl, we're leaving. Wake the others. I need to sort something out before we go." He explained. She bit her lip, nodding reluctantly. Grian gave her a reassuring smile before turning and opening his Watcher eyes. He scanned the world he was transporting them to, checking it over for what must've been the millionth time. When he was satisfied, he closed his eyes again and turned his attention back to his friends. Martyn, Jimmy, and BigB were awake now.

Grian took a deep breath. "All right, guys. I'm going to bring us somewhere they can't trace us, but I need you to understand something first."

Pearl and BigB nodded. Martyn and Jimmy shared a glance, and Martyn gestured for him to go on.

Grian swallowed. "I don’t know how this will play out. All I know is that we may be near each other when we jump worlds, or we may not. And we won't remember anything. Our lives will start over. But I promise you guys, I will find you all. I will make sure we reunite. You just need to trust me." He explained, nervously picking at his nails.

Jimmy furrowed his brow. "But Grian, if you can't—"

"I'll find you, Jim. If we're not already together, I will. Please, I just need you to—" Grian was cut off by the sound of void ripping and a booming voice.

"XELQUA!" Watcher One's voice echoed.

Grian yelped, quickly grabbing his friends and wrapping them in his wings.

He felt the sensation of a hand on his wings, and without giving himself the time to dwell on it, he jumped to the other world. The last thing he recalled was a relieved sigh and the distant sound of his name.

--

"Grian!" Scar yelled. Grian blearily opened his eyes. After a moment, he shot up, gasping for air.

"Scar," he said breathlessly. His eyes quickly darted around and landed on the communicator in the man's hand. "Scar, give me the communicator," he said urgently.

Scar frowned. "What? Grian, you were screaming. What’s going on—"

"Scar!" Grian snapped. "Now."

Scar faltered. His frown deepened as he handed over the communicator. 

Grian quickly typed a message.

'Jimmy, Pearl, Martyn, and BigB, I need you all to meet me in the village ASAP.' Just as the message sent, another one from Scott came through.

'Grian. Something's wrong with Jimmy. He won't stop screaming. Help.'

Grian swore under his breath.

'Okay, new plan. Does anyone have tabs on Pearl, Martyn, and BigB?'

 'Scott, I'll be over soon.'

He quickly got to his feet, brushing sand off of himself and ignoring the lightheadedness. Another beep from the communicator. Ren was telling him Martyn was unresponsive. He swore again.

Another beep. Gem said Pearl was hyperventilating.

Grian paced, trying to think. He distantly realized Scar was watching him silently. It didn’t help his nerves.

After a long silence, Grian turned around, frustration boiling over. "Why are you so quiet?" he snapped, wincing at the harshness of his own tone.

Scar swallowed. "Sorry. You woke up kind of panicked. I don’t know what's going on because you haven’t said anything. I figured you needed a moment of quiet." He mumbled. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "I didn’t want to be a bother."

Grian stopped abruptly, his gaze softening. "Scar," he said quietly, quickly making his way over to the man and pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I just... I got a visit. From the Watchers," he explained softly.

Scar tensed, but his grip tightened comfortingly around Grian. "The people who gave us the communicators and left us that omin—omen—ominos—oh, whatever! That creepy note?" He said, stumbling over his words.

Grian laughed fondly. "Yes. And they’re not people. Actually, they... they reminded me of some things," he said, his eyes briefly glancing behind him, suddenly acutely aware of the absence of his wings.

Scar followed his line of sight, brow furrowing in confusion. "What’re you looking at?"

Grian turned back to Scar, flushing as he realized they were still holding each other, their faces just inches apart. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

For a split second, Grian could have sworn Scar’s gaze flickered down to his lips, and distantly, he realized he was leaning in. Scar was leaning in too.

The communicator buzzed suddenly, startling both of them apart.

Scar laughed nervously. "I’d believe anything at this point, Grian. We’re in Minecraft!" He cleared his throat.

Grian nodded, feeling the awkward tension slip away. "That’s a fair point. I’ll explain it to you when we get everyone together. Come on." He started in the direction of Scott and Jimmy’s area.

He checked the communicator. BigB seemed to have processed the information well, as he had sent a message himself.

‘So everyone who had those visions is getting these memories?’ the message read.

‘Looks like it. I talked with One. Come to Scott and Jimmy’s. Gem, bring Pearl. Ren, bring Martyn.’ Grian sent back.

Grian sighed, closing his eyes and taking a moment to gather himself. Scar stopped wordlessly beside him, letting him be.

After a beat, Grian continued walking, trying to make the journey as quickly as possible. He groaned to himself, shaking his head in a poor attempt to shake off the headache starting to form.

God. He had so much work to do

Chapter Text

Before long, Grian and Scar were knocking on the door of one of the cottages in the flower field. A disheveled Scott opened it, saying nothing as he wordlessly beckoned them inside.

Jimmy had stopped screaming, it seemed—but now, he simply sat on a bed, staring blankly at the wall. The sight made Scar’s heart clench painfully in his chest.

“Jimmy?” Grian called softly, stepping forward with careful, measured movements.

Jimmy didn’t reply. He didn’t even blink.

Grian exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly before he turned back to Scott. “No one else has made it here yet?” he asked, his voice edged with exhaustion.

Scott shook his head. “You guys were the closest. The others will probably take a bit longer,” he explained.

That made sense to Scar, but Grian frowned, a hint of anxiety creeping into his expression. He turned back to Jimmy.

“Jim,” he said gently, crouching down beside him. “Jim, it’s Grian. Can you look at me?” He waited a beat before trying again.

That got Jimmy’s attention. His eyes widened, and he immediately turned to Grian, recognition flashing across his face.

“Grian,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and painfully small. “Grian, do you—”

“I remember, Jim,” Grian interrupted softly. “We all do. It’s alright.”

Jimmy shook his head, his breathing quickening. “No. No—no. That’s not right. Why are they... Grian, you said... You said we would be safe, you said—” He cut himself off with a sharp, shaky exhale.

Scar stepped forward, instinctively opening his mouth to say something—anything—to calm Jimmy down or to defend Grian. But before he could, Scott caught him by the wrist, giving a small but firm shake of his head.

Scar exhaled heavily, frustration bubbling beneath the surface, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut.

Grian inhaled sharply. “I know, Jimmy. I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice quiet and heavy with guilt.

Jimmy abruptly stopped moving, his entire body going still. Scott rushed to his side in an instant. “Jimmy?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Jimmy turned to him slowly. “I’m fine. Well—no, I’m not, but...” He looked back to Grian trailing off, his expression conflicted before he finally asked, “Are they really back?”

Grian grimaced but nodded.

Okay, Scar was really confused now—and judging by the look on Scott’s face, so was he.

Clearing his throat, Scar drew the attention of everyone in the room. “What’s going on?”

Grian and Jimmy exchanged a look.

“We’ll explain when everyone’s here,” Grian said cryptically.

Jimmy’s eyes snapped to him. “Who’s coming?”

“Gem’s bringing Pearl, Ren’s bringing Martyn, and I think BigB’s coming alone,” Grian replied. Scar wasn’t sure what Pearl, Martyn, and BigB had to do with any of this, but he didn’t ask.

A few moments of tense silence followed, broken only by the occasional whispering between Jimmy and Grian. Then, a knock at the door echoed through the cottage. Scar jumped up, quickly making his way over.

When he opened it, everyone they had been expecting stood outside, each in varying states. Scar grimaced. “Come in. Did you guys meet up out there?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Yeah, I sort of collected everyone on the way here,” BigB replied, though his voice carried an edge of unease as he glanced at the others.

Pearl was eerily pale, practically leaning on Gem for support. Gem, in turn, looked so tense that she had bitten her lip hard enough to draw blood. Martyn stood completely stone-faced beside Ren, whose brows were furrowed with concern. BigB himself seemed the most put together, but Scar wasn’t sure how much of that was real.

Scar led them into the back, where Scott, Grian, and Jimmy were still seated. As soon as they entered, Grian quickly exchanged a few quiet words with the newcomers before glancing between Scar, Ren, Gem, and Scott, his teeth worrying at his lip.

“I know you’re all probably incredibly confused,” he began, pausing briefly. “And if it’s alright with everyone involved, I’ll try to clear everything up and explain what’s going on.”

His attention shifted back to Jimmy, Pearl, Martyn, and BigB, waiting for their response.

When no one argued, he continued. "Alright. I know why we're here." 

Scar's eyes widened. Why hadn't Grian mentioned this earlier then? Was he lying to them? Did he-

"I also know where 'here' is. But this is a fairly new development. I didn't remember." Grian continued. 

Scar inhaled sharply. "Remember? What does that mean?" He asked, unable to resist. 

Grian's eyes landed on him and Scar could've sworn he saw a glimpse of sadness pass through them. "The beings who brought us to this world are called the watchers." He explained, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm one of them." 

Those who Grian had deemed 'involved' all winced at this, while those who were in the dark about the situation just seemed confused. 

"Beings?" Scott asked, crossing his arms. "What do you mean beings?" 

"How are you one of them? How are you involved in this?" Gem spoke up, standing a bit straighter. 

Scar was quiet now, unsure of what this could possibly mean. 

Grian sighed. 

"As you all know. We are in Minecraft." He started. "Where Pearl, Jimmy, Bigb, Martyn, and I are from, Minecraft is the real world." 
Scar was completely lost now. He let out a nervous laugh. “What?”

Grian glanced at him, something indecipherable in his eyes.

“We’re from a different universe,” he said carefully, his voice steady but heavy. “We jumped to this one to escape the Watchers because they were.. torturing us, losing our memories in the process. I—” He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. “It’s my fault that we didn’t remember. But it was the only way to get us out.”

Scar felt his mind go fuzzy. Part of him wanted to faint, to just shut down and process this later. The other part of him wanted to stay awake, to demand answers, to make sense of something that felt utterly impossible.

Scott frowned. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, pausing as he pieced it together. “Grian is some sort of higher being, and you were all tormented in Minecraft by other beings just like him?” His eyes flickered toward Jimmy, concern darkening his expression.

Grian nodded. “Essentially, yes. I know it sounds insane, but—”

“What makes you different?” Scott interrupted, his tone sharp.

Something in his voice confused Scar at first. Then, he processed it.

Blame.

Scar bristled, anger flaring on Grian’s behalf. “What the hell are you insinuating?” he demanded, his tone ice-cold.

Scott glared at him. “Oh, come on, we were all thinking it!” he shot back, arms crossing over his chest.

Then, all at once, the room erupted into noise. Everyone started speaking over each other, voices overlapping as each person took a different stance. Scar’s blood boiled as the arguments continued—as they debated whether Grian was a monster while he was standing right there.

“Face it, Scar,” Scott said suddenly, dragging Scar’s attention back to him after a harshly whispered exchange with Gem. His voice was firm, unwavering. “I’m right. He says he’s the same as them, so—”

“I wasn’t always.”

Grian’s voice cut through the noise, quiet but final.

“Grian, you don’t have to—” Jimmy started, but Grian simply raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence.

“No, but obviously, Jim, I do,” he said firmly. His gaze flickered around the room before settling. “I was a player, just like Jimmy, Martyn, Pearl, and BigB. I was just like them, and they were my family. Everyone else on that server—they were my friends, of course—but them? They were my family. Them and…” He trailed off, his expression momentarily unreadable before he shook his head. “Anyway.

“We were all part of a world called Evolution, or Evo. As we played, the world changed. It was like updates—the game was evolving as we progressed. But when we finally reached the End and went to fight the dragon… I was alone.

“I killed the dragon, and as I stepped into the portal, I knew immediately that something was wrong. I wasn’t home. Instead, I was…” He swallowed. “I was in the void.”

Scott’s eyes were wide now, his expression clearly apologetic. “Grian—”

“No, Scott, it’s fine,” Grian interrupted with a shrug. “Let me tell the story.”

Scott bit his lip but nodded, staying quiet.

Before Grian could continue, Scar made his way across the room, sitting beside him and gently draping an arm around his shoulders. He noticed a faint blush dusting Grian’s cheeks, though he figured it was just the tension of the situation getting to him.

After a brief pause, Grian continued. “The Watchers took me. There was nothing I could do, and so I was forced to endure a series of tests—experiments, really—where they tried to turn me into one of them. Obviously, they succeeded.” He let out a humorless laugh. “They messed up my wings—yes, I had wings—turned them all purple for some reason. I’m getting off-topic.” His gaze drifted somewhere behind him, something unreadable, almost longing, flickering in his eyes.

“I became one of them. I wouldn’t behave, though, so they used my family to teach me my place.” A shiver ran through him.

Scar opened his mouth, ready to say something—anything—to offer comfort, but suddenly, the familiar fuzziness from before slammed into him, ten times worse. His vision swam, his body tipping sideways.

Somewhere, a voice called his name.

And then, the world faded to black.