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Joel hummed as he adjusted the fingerless gloves on his left arm.
The soft black fabric covered the length of his forearm, stretching all the way to the base of his fingers. It was almost an odd look on him, but it does the job of covering up the healing scars there.
There was just something about it just being there, for everybody to see, was too personal, too vulnerable. And it was so strange, with these scars, because on one hand it was almost this validation, this testament that what happened wasn’t just in his head, that what he suffered through was real, but at the same time…it was a cruel reminder of everything—a reminder that he didn’t really want to see all the time.
Maybe one day he’d be able to remove these gloves, but not now.
“Does it look fine?” He held up his arm to Grian from where he’s perched on a nearby chair, holding what seems to be a strip of cloth.
Grian looked up and nodded. “It does, yeah. Come here, I gotta give you this.”
Joel walked over, frowning at the item on Grian’s hand. It looked familiar. “What’s that for?”
In the next second, the red strip of cloth is wrapped around his gloved wrist by careful hands. “A lucky charm. Keep it.”
Joel tilts his head. “Is this from the sweater you used to bandage me up?”
“Mm-hm. So keep it safe.”
Grian secured the makeshift bracelet over his gloved arm with a small knot, and Joel can see those invisible threads of fate all over again, wrapping around them like tendrils of vines. A red string of fate, bound on his wrist.
He smiles. “I’ll take care of it.”
Joel was near the Magic Mountain crater again.
Ever since Joel got injured there, Grian wanted to just keep the former away from it at all costs. It was stupid, he knew, and probably even a bit irrational, but it somehow felt like if he kept his eyes away for too long, Joel would disappear, just like that. Like if he fails that, the invisible barrier of protection around his friend would crumble like sand.
Perhaps that’s why he gave Joel that makeshift bracelet from his sweater. That maybe, through that simple gesture, he could keep him safe from those watchful eyes and meddling hands.
And now, there Joel sits, legs dangling in the abyss, head downcast, and Grian can already feel his heart racing. So he picks up his pace, and all of a sudden that horrible feeling like a premonition hits him all at once, much like the feeling from that distant memory, of himself running through this very mountain, this very field of grass, reaching out to Joel desperately. The feeling of deja vu is like a wave crashing over him.
Grian calls out to him.
“Joel—”
And then he felt their presence before he even saw them. There they were, three figures clad in black robes and purple wings overlapping as they huddled around Joel. In the blink of an eye, he was already running.
The wind rushed over him as he did so, and in a matter of seconds he was right by Joel’s side, standing in between him and the Watchers looking down at them.
Joel stood up abruptly. “What’s going—” Then he froze, staring right at the direction where the Watchers stood with wide, terrified eyes.
Alarm bells rang in a clamor in Grian’s head within a second. This was not possible. This shouldn’t be possible. “Can you see them?”
Still fixated on the Watchers, Joel shook his head. Now that he was closer, Grian can see a lot clearer the haunted look in his friend’s eyes.
“No, but—it’s loud. I can hear them. I don’t—” He shook his head again, stumbling over the words. “I can hear their voices, and I’m sure it’s their voices, but I don’t know how I know. But I can’t understand what they’re saying, just a bunch of these horribly loud indistinct whispering.”
A flash of memory went through Grian. A recent memory right at this very place, of tired eyes looking back over his shoulder, looking at something invisible down at the abyss. It’s so loud here, Grian.
But how? How could Joel have felt their presence when Grian himself didn’t even see them at that time?
Fear and dread crept up to him like vines wrapping around his feet, rooting him to the ground. He glanced at Joel’s terror-filled eyes, at the way he brought his hands up to cover his ears. It was all too familiar.
Grian hated remembering those memories.
He gritted his teeth, glaring at the Watchers. “What are you doing here?”
Something in him wanted to ask how they even got here in the first place, but in between the clear distress Joel is in and his connection to the Watchers that even Grian doesn’t understand, he finds that he doesn’t want to know the answer. Not yet. Not now. He didn’t want to face that just yet. If he could dismantle and deny his theories, then perhaps he wasn’t at all right. Perhaps.
“We think you already know.”
No. No. No. No, Grian thought frantically, thinking of Joel’s exhausted eyes and his still bandaged up wounds and everything that has happened. Not now. Not right now.
But it was futile, anyway, and he knew it from the purple eyes looking at him. It was time for the next game, and they’d barely even had the time to pick up the pieces of their quickly crumbling life.
Beside him, Joel falls to his knees on the grass, hands clutched to his ears, terrified eyes still focused on the Watchers, and for a horrifying moment Grian finds himself back in that glass room, an echo of an unwanted memory. He curses to himself and kneels beside his friend, holding onto his shoulders in what he hopes is comforting.
He shoots another glare at the figures in front of them, as pointless as it is. After all, what else could they do but accept the fate that’s handed to them on a silver platter? It was all that they’d known, anyway.
But like hell was he going to bow down to destiny. He’d promised to fight, and even if all the damage he could do to them was a mere scratch, he’d definitely give it his all. He might only deal a small amount of damage, just a small cut that’ll heal in a matter of hours, but he wants them to feel his hurt, his anger. He wanted them to feel his fury for everything that they’d done to Joel. He wanted to drown them in the waves of his unwavering resentment.
So he holds onto Joel as the sky turns a dark shade of purple, as the wind becomes cool against his skin, as the very world changes right before his eyes.
“Let the next game commence.”
Dark purple clouds loomed over their heads as the ground beneath them gave way into an endless abyss. Grian closed his eyes momentarily as he felt himself fall. Somewhere in between it all, his hold onto Joel faltered. As the wind rushed past him, he quickly reached for the latter’s hand, finding purchase on the familiar texture of a fabric. My sweater.
It was the lucky charm he’d given to Joel. He squeezes his hand, silently hoping for that grain of luck, a glimmer of mercy for the both of them, and registered his friend’s focused eyes at the top of the mountain as they fell. The Watchers. He was staring at where the Watchers were, looking down at them.
Joel met his gaze, eyes full of horror as the reality of their situation sunk in.
And what else could he do, really? Grian offered a small smile. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered.
I hope it’ll be.
Two pairs of sad eyes looked at each other as the darkness came to meet them.
“Is that a bracelet?”
Joel looked up from the crafting table, meeting Gem’s curious expression. He lifted his left gloved arm, showing off the red strip of cloth wrapped there.
“Oh, this? Yeah, it’s—” He glanced behind him, over the river and somewhere beyond the fields. He wonders what Grian was up to. “Well—someone gave it to me.”
He cringes at his own words. Was that too much information? Did it matter at all?
Gem crossed her arms and fixed him with an exasperated look. “That someone is Grian, right?”
Joel chuckled nervously. “What? No! What makes you think that?”
Gem shook her head. “You are a horrible liar. I won’t pry, don’t worry. I was just wondering how you knew each other. That’s all.”
This was exactly what Joel was trying to avoid. Just how the hell was he supposed to answer that? Oh, yeah, we all actually know each other here. We’re just the only ones who know that because of reasons.
He sighs. “Look, I’ve already felt like I was going insane from getting those stupid cows here. If I tell you the truth, I’ll probably be deemed insane by you, too.”
Gem chuckled. “Well, that’s certainly an answer.”
It wasn’t like people didn’t ask them questions like these, what with all the times they’d be seen together right from the beginning of each game, and not to mention all the times they refused to betray each other despite having killed each other prior. They probably did look insane to the others. Joel suspected that someone had probably thought of them responsible for these games at some point.
“It’s just…” Joel glanced at the bracelet. It felt more than just a single strip of cloth. A simple thing that he simply could not afford to lose. This was part of the cloth that bandaged his wounds, and it felt like the very thing that put him back together that day.
No, it’s not this. He thinks of Grian on the other side of the map, of the person who didn’t hesitate to tear his favorite red sweater to bandage him up, of the person who instantly flew to the other side of a mountain to get him out of a crater, of the person who was always watching over him.
“A lucky charm.” Joel shrugged, smiling. “It’s a lucky charm.”