Archive of Our Own

When Grian came out victorious of Third Life, it really was a shock. Sure, he had a majority of the kills that season what with his TNT traps and decent weapon wielding, but those were kills for Scar. It was all to make up his debt for the first kill of the series, and he had the luxury of getting the final kill on the man who it was all for.

He should’ve let Scar win. He had his own personal pride, of course, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to win. But he knew he wasn’t meant to be here in the first place.

Grian was beyond thrilled to win this stupid game, to shove it in the faces of those he’d designed it for. He had proved to everyone he was a worthy opponent, an excellent trap setter (the second time around), and he’d done what he set out to achieve in the first place: he soured the game. He’d practically ruined it. Grian had made it more fun for the other participants, made it a little more lighthearted with his jokes and quips, and the cherry on top of the sour sundae was winning a competition he’d never even meant to be in.

—

After Grian had died for the third and final time, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was nothing but void. He felt weightless, and it took him a moment to process the feeling of falling. When he did, his wings snapped out behind him to slow his fall, as if that would do anything in the long run. Grian couldn’t find the strength in him to try and propel himself up with his wings— he felt weak. All of his muscles felt sore, his body ached and burned with the constant pressure of survival still tense in his bones, and it still wasn’t through his head that he was done with this game. Grian had won, sure, but it didn’t feel like winning entirely… it didn’t feel like he was done.

His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a familiar, yellow-ish stone coming into view of the ground beneath him, and he finally gained enough sentience to ignore the burn of his muscles and snapped his wings, allowing him to glide down towards the ground instead of crashing into the stone.

Grian hit the ground with more force than he would’ve liked, and he winced. Ow. The pain reentered his body all at once, hot and bright and sharp at the same time. Everything felt like too much… even the faint light felt like it was burning his eyes.

He knew where he was. He recognized it in an instant— of course he did. He’d been here more times than he could count, but when you’ve lived here for several years of your life, for them, it all made sense why he was here again.

Grian hauled himself up off the ground, ignoring the rocky and grainy texture and dusting his hands off. He took a breath and let the cold air fill his lungs. It felt nice for a moment, and then the pain returned, pulsing in his chest with his heartbeat. He was alive. He was here— in pain, but alive and here. He was okay.

It took a moment for Grian to gather himself, stretching out his wings and arms and hearing bones pop and crack as he straightened himself out. He definitely still ached…

Grian sighed. A part of him was nervous at what was to come, but he could take it. He was fine. What’s the worst that could happen?

—

When Grian presented himself to the Watchers, he really wasn’t sure what his fate would be. The closer he got to them the louder and harder his heart pounded, but he refused to let it show on his face. He couldn’t give any indication of fear, even if he knew they could smell it from a thousand blocks away. Grian needed composure…

He stood tall, his wings folded together but held up; tense, to match the rest of his body language. He would be fine. This was fine.

—

Mumbo was growing increasingly worried for Grian when he’d seemingly all but vanished. He’d asked around to several Hermits, like Scar and Ren and Xisuma, but all gave the same answer: they hadn’t seen him.

It wasn’t unlike Grian to go radio silent. Mumbo was guilty of it too, at times— they all were! Getting caught up in projects was just second nature to the Hermits, and sometimes they forgot to send out a warning message. At least in those cases Mumbo could stop by his base and see he was here, or he’d catch him while resource gathering. If he couldn’t find him after a few days, he’d lay some buttons around his base and always come back to find him pressing them. It was like he had some sixth sense for the bloody things…

But nothing. It was seriously as if he’d just— vanished off the face of the Earth. Grian wouldn’t do that without warning. Where was he?

Mumbo was restless. He was pacing around his base, flying over the ocean and forests to see if he could pick out a hint of red fabric in the midst of nature, and of course, he was throwing himself into his redstone. He might as well be productive while he was worrying…

He knew he was off when he was messing up something as simple as a piston door. This was easy. A piece of cake. And Mumbo was fumbling it. He sighed, glancing down at the redstone mechanisms to find a torch out of place. He quickly removed it and replaced it in its correct position, hitting the button again and watching as it opened.

He needed to find Grian.

—

Mumbo was a determined man, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d finished. No matter how hard or tiring it felt, he couldn’t give up on Grian.

He geared up himself, making sure he had all of his tools and equipment ready, his elytra repaired, and a few stacks of rockets and food in his inventory. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be out searching, but he knew that Grian wasn’t amiss to finding himself in odd situations or areas.

Mumbo took a breath as he stood outside of his base, firing off a rocket and propelling himself into the air. The search was on.

—

When he’d started the search, the sun was not even at its peak in the sky, and at this point it had set long ago. It was the middle of the night (though Mumbo didn’t find himself at all tired physically, strangely) and there had been no sign of his winged friend. He’d even stopped by some other Hermit’s bases on the way, but he never got a clear or concise answer. Scar, though, had an interesting perspective to offer.

Scar was in the midst of his building when Mumbo had found him, and he seemed happy to see the mustached man at his home. “Mumbo!” He set his blocks down, a smile on his face. “Welcome to my abode. What brings you here?”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to see Scar. “Ah— I’m on the hunt for Grian. Have you seen him lately? I haven’t seen him in days..”

Scar glanced down with a hum, his brows furrowing in as if to power his thoughts. “Uhhh… I can’t think of anything, I don’t think… nope, can’t say I’ve seen him as of late,” He shrugged.

Mumbo was about to thank him for his time before Scar let out a loud ‘oh!’ and stopped his train of thought. “Wait, no— I think I saw him recently…”

“Where?!” Mumbo was desperate for a sliver of information; any sort of hint was better than the wild goose chase he’d been on.

Scar went quiet again for a few moments, the gears turning in his mind as he thought. “…The… desert? I remember a desert with him, but…” He was silent again. “…No… I must be misremembering. Sorry, Mumbo. I don’t think I have seen him..”

He wanted to crumble right then and there. Mumbo had something— he finally had an inkling of suspicion as to where Grian had gone and it was ripped from him just a moment later. He shouldn’t have been surprised, Scar was just wild in ways unexplainable, but it didn’t help in this case.

“Well… thank you anyways, Scar.” Mumbo murmured and smoothed a hand over his hair.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Scar grinned at the other. “Good luck finding him— if you need help just let me know,”

“Right, of course… I’ll see you ‘round, Scar,”

—

Mumbo had found himself in a forest as the sun peaked over the horizon, an unwelcome reminder he’d been at this for longer than he would’ve liked and still had no leads. He sighed, perching himself underneath a tree and slumping against it. The spruce bark pressing into his back was far from the forefront of his mind, with his focus dedicated to rummaging for the food he’d packed.

His elytra were bound to run out soon. He was low on rockets anyway— he should’ve brought more. At least he had food with him… He pulled out a piece of steak, chewing on it mindlessly as he surveyed the horizon. The forest was pretty…

The peaceful breeze chilled from nightfall was welcome, alongside the soft coos and calls from birds above in their nests. The ground smelled rich and damp, and just beside Mumbo he could see a poppy beginning to bloom. He almost felt calm, for a moment, completely entrapped in the cocoon of comfort. This was so… nice…

A chirp pierced his ears. Then another, and two more after that. The birds were loud this morning… He let his eyes rest shut, for just a moment. He wasn’t tired, but he was so, so overwhelmed. He just wanted Grian back…

He took another piece of steak out after a moment, his eyes focused on the sun slowly rising before him. He was so zoned out that he had almost missed the rustling to the right of him— almost.

His head snapped to attention. He was dedicating every ounce of focus in his stress-addled mind to finding out where it came from. Should he draw a weapon? Flee? Or go closer?

Mumbo waited for the rustling to die down, his heart beginning to race between his ribs. Something in the badump badump told him to approach the sound… it could be stupid— it could be a skeleton, a zombie, or a fox or wolf. It was probably just an animal. He put away the rest of his steak and stood, dusting the dirt and rocks off of his pants. His poor suit…

Mumbo stood behind a tree, reaching for his sword in case it was something nefarious, and he slowly peaked out from behind it.

He saw a few birds standing and flittering around in a flock as he peaked out slightly, and as more came into his eyeline, he saw red.

Mumbo’s breath caught in his throat, his heart all but stopping. No, it was probably a berry bush. He was about to duck back behind the tree to gather himself when he heard a rather loud squawk, and a bird pecking at the ground beneath his feet. He glanced down at it, and then behind it, ignoring the near heart attack he was having out of anticipation.

When he looked again, the birds were gone, and the red was clear as day.

“—Grian!!”

—

Grian wasn’t sure where he was when he woke up. All he was sure of was that he hurt— his back ached, he felt like the air had been stolen from his lungs and never replaced, and he especially felt the pain in his wings. Could he move them?

No use trying now… he was so tired….

He saw bright light behind his eyes. He felt heat over his entire body. Was he back in the desert? He couldn’t feel the warm sand or smell the dust and smoke… but was he there? Maybe that was his punishment for winning, spending eternity in the very place he’d lost it all.

They’d be cruel enough to do that to him. That’s what he would get for trying to think he’d be able to get back at them.

Grian deserved this.

The exhaustion leaked into his limbs, paralyzing him as he lay on the ground; wherever he was, he didn’t care. The air felt heavy; thick. He couldn’t get a full breath in, he didn’t have the strength.

He heard the birds call around him.

Well, if he died, this was fitting…

Grian let his eyes close, preparing to surrender to his weariness. Slipping into a sleep or a coma— something, anything— was better than the crushing weight of wake he felt right now. Anything other than remembering what he’d done, what he’d felt…

“—Grian!!”

The voice pierced through the haze he was in, and for a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming.

—

The state Mumbo had found Grian in was… startling, to say the very least. There wasn’t blood or cuts or any wounds, from what he could see immediately, which was good. When he clamored over to the other and took him into his arms, the first thing he noticed was the state of his wings.

Grian loved his wings, that was no secret. They were bright and vibrant and full of life. Preened to perfection at all times, it was hard to ever see them in a state of anything less than. That wasn’t the case for them right now.

They looked like they’d been mauled by something— some creature, a human would never be cruel to do something like this, right? His feathers had been clawed at and ripped away, some of the newer ones dried with blood, and if the feathers hadn’t been torn out they’d been slashed or cut short. The color and life they’d been full of had drained, leaving muted reds, blues, and yellows in their absence. His left wing was fine, aside from the damage done to his feathers, but his right wing had an unnatural bend where the metacarpals met the radius, and the skin beneath it looked bruised and swollen. Broken, probably.

Mumbo’s heart was breaking in his chest. How long had he been there? How much of this had he endured? And he was alone, no less. He felt so awful, almost guilty for the state Grian was in. It wasn’t his fault, sure, but it almost felt like it was in a way.

“Grian— Grian, are you with me?” He patted the side of his cheek, once and twice and then again. No response. He could feel the other breathe, though it seemed shallow and inconsistent. Mumbo hauled him up, cradling him as he tried to reach for a rocket.

“Come on, let’s get you taken care of…”

—

When Grian woke up, the first thing he was aware of was the comfiness of the surface he was laid on. It wasn’t hard like endstone or firm like dirt… this had to have been some kind of bed, right? He took a breath through his nose and was instantly hit with the smell of redstone and metal, and a hint of sandalwood. He knew this scent…

He squinted his eyes open, blinking a bit at the bright light streaming in through the window. His suspicions were confirmed: this was Mumbo’s base. His senses were finally catching up to his current surroundings, and the sound of chatter from the next room filled his ears. Mumbo’s voice was prominent, full of worry, and he could hear what sounded like Doc and Gem murmuring back at him.

“So— you think he’ll be okay?” Mumbo asked.

“Yes. He has no major injuries, it’s only his wings that are damaged, really,” Doc assured, putting away his roll of bandage. “I would assume he is staying with you for a while. Keep an eye on the swelling. His wing is set so it should start to heal. And absolutely no flying attempts. He will hurt himself.”

Mumbo nodded as he tried to process the information. It all seemed pretty standard.

“Just remember to take it easy! Light movements but nothing too harsh with the wings,” Gem chimed in. “It’s gonna take a long while for his feathers to grow back in— the ones that were removed are gonna start back soon, but all the other ones are gonna need to molt first,”

“How long is that gonna take, do you reckon?” Mumbo asked.

Gem hummed for a moment. “…Well, that all depends on when he molts. But… it could be a while. Could be a year before the feathers are back to normal.”

Oh, Grian wasn’t going to like that.

“Just be careful with them. Obviously his right wing is broken so he’ll need to rest for a while. The fracture wasn’t too deep, so it’ll be around seven or eight weeks I’d imagine before it’s ready to go.” Gem rambled on as she was searching through her bag. “Lots of rest, fluids, vitamins— all that kinda stuff. Here,” She handed him a small bottle. “This’ll help with the pain. Also left some potions in there to help. And please don’t push yourself, Mumbo. We’re all here to help,”

Mumbo took a breath, letting it out after a few moments. He was stressed— his best friend was in pain and hurt and he had no idea why and he was barred from flying for a year? Mumbo just felt so bad that he was so helpless in this situation— he couldn’t do much of anything to fix this. All he could do really was wait.

“..Yeah, right— thank you both for coming over, seriously— I had no idea where to start with this sort of thing..” He mumbled.

“Not a problem. Let us know if you need something, Mumbo,” Doc said as he began to walk towards the door, Gem trailing behind him with a wave. When the door closed, he breathed out another sigh, glancing down. What to do..

While Mumbo busied himself with preparing some food for when Grian woke up, the latter sat in bed, silent.

A year before he could fly again. At least, probably. Even when his feathers molted they’d take ages to come back in. And his wing was broken? He gave a weak movement, flexing it and wincing instantly at the feeling. He didn’t know why he felt the need to try his luck, but he did.

He glanced around the room, noting his red jumper in the laundry. He glanced down at himself next, noting the ‘MUMBO FOR MAYOR’ shirt he wore instead. He lifted the shirt up slightly, seeing minor bruising along his abdomen and bandaging peaking out from above.

Grian unfolded his left wing, stretching it out for him to see. It looked just as bad as the others described it— feathers missing, bloodied and bandaged— ugly ugly ugly.

All because he wanted to win a stupid fucking game…

He should’ve seen this coming. He knew how they worked, and how they responded to rebellion. It was in his nature to rebel when he saw wrongdoings! Causing chaos was just a part of who he was— didn’t they know this by now?

Grian should’ve kept his mouth shut. He tried to keep his friends safe and look where that got him. People were hurt— killed. They were all traumatized, even if they had their memories cleared. Was he really doing this for them or was he doing it for himself?

No— he cared about his friends. He designed this to hurt the least.

Did he succeed? Not for himself he didn’t.

Tears welled in Grian’s eyes as he stared mindlessly into space. He felt so stupid, so helpless. The pain wasn’t anything compared to the ache in his heart. He shouldn’t have felt attached to the very people he set out to challenge, but he had some weird need for validation from them. He was a good Watcher at one point— what had happened? He threw it all away, which he didn’t regret at all— he needed out.

A part of him was still there. A part of them was still inside him. Even if he tried, he’d never truly escape.

If he had never left, his friends would be safer now. He could’ve found another way to change things— he made everything so complicated and he made a mess of it and in his attempts to spare them he put himself in the firing range. He deserved this.

“Grian?” Mumbo’s voice was a surprise, and he instantly was rushing over to the other with a nervous energy following. “Oh— Grian, thank goodness you’re up. How do you feel? Are you in any pain?” He cupped his face in his hands as he spoke.

“I-I’m fine,” Grian murmured, glancing aside as he was coddled. “My wing hurts a bit, but nothing I can’t handle,”

“Right, right…” Mumbo murmured, glancing over at the wing. “It’s set so try not to move it too much. Gem said it wasn’t a bad break so it’ll heal up nicely…”

“Yeah…” Grian trailed off, his eyes stuck in one spot. Mumbo noticed this, of course, but after everything that had happened, he figured it was just disorientation.

He wanted to probe the other with questions, ask what had happened and if he needed anything, but Grian seemed overwhelmed now. If he wanted to talk, it would be later.

“I, um, made stew. It’s simmering on the pot right now— I figured you’d be hungry once you’d woken up. Didn’t seem like you’d eaten in a while.” Mumbo offered.

Grian was quiet for a moment. The absence in his stomach was begging to be filled. He nodded, “Yeah, thanks…”

He hoped the food would fill the pit of guilt in his stomach.

—

After a bowl of some mushroom stew, Grian had fallen back asleep in Mumbo’s bed. It turns out being traumatized and having a part of you torn apart was pretty exhausting at times. Mumbo made himself busy in the time Grian slept, trying to do a bit of redstone planning to keep his mind off of the avian. He was safe now, no matter what had happened. That gave him some comfort.

It was late afternoon when he woke up, and the first thing Grian noticed when the sleep in his eyes cleared was that his head felt clear. He didn’t feel as dazed as he did when he first woke up— whether that was recovery or time to process everything was left unclear, but he found he didn’t care. He could hear scribbles on paper in the next room over and that was enough to kickstart his curiosity. Quietly, Grian moved the covers off, stretching his legs out before his feet hit the floor. His arms were next, stretched out in front of his chest, and he softly left the room.

Mumbo had his back turned to the bedroom door, but he’d left the door ajar to make sure he could hear if the other was awake. Of course, he was so enveloped in his plans that had all been for naught.

Grian smirked. If he positioned himself just right, and put all his might into it, he could jump up and perch on the other. Mumbo had some tall ceilings, all he had to do was jump and spread his wings and–

Oh. Right.

The smile was wiped from his face only a moment later. He continued walking towards Mumbo, careful so each step was quiet.

He obviously wasn’t as clearheaded as he thought a moment ago if the way he tripped over his own two feet was any indication.

Mumbo’s head whipped around, his pencil falling to the table. “Grian!— Are you okay?!” He immediately stood from his table.

“I’m fine— seriously,” Grian said as Mumbo kneeled to his level, helping him up.

“You shouldn’t be walking around, Gri. Seriously. You’re hurt..” Mumbo murmured.

Grian gave him a deadpan expression. “My wing is hurt. I can still walk just fine, you know.”

“Still— you need to rest. Whatever happened, you probably need time to recover…” Mumbo sighed, cupping his face in his hand and watching as Grian leaned into it after a moment. The two were silent, and he watched as Grian’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the close proximity.

“...Do you want to talk about what happened?” Mumbo finally asked, a sort of nervousness seeping into his words. Almost instantly Grian tensed up and pulled back from his touch. He stared at the floor for a moment.

“I don’t remember.”

That took Mumbo by surprise. “You— don’t remember anything?” He asked. “Did you hit your head?”

“No— I just, I don’t… remember,” Grian murmured, glaring up at him. “I don’t know what happened.”

Mumbo was quiet and had concern written on his face. One of two things was happening right now: Grian genuinely didn’t remember and was being honest about the situation, and alternatively, he remembered everything and didn’t want to talk about it.

It didn’t take long for Mumbo to come to the conclusion of what was happening.

He sighed. “Alright, just… know that if it ever comes back to you, and you want to talk about things… I’m always here. No matter what.” He assured, grabbing Grian’s hand after a few seconds. “Whatever happened, I will listen and I will not judge you for what happened.”

Mumbo would certainly judge him. ‘I lied, I remember everything because I was forced to organize and won a death game that ruined friendships and traumatized everyone to please and feed omnipotent overlords of this world, and it will happen again and you will be there’ wasn’t exactly something you just moved on from.

Mumbo would hate him. And how would he react when he found out he was a Watcher? Ex-watcher, or something like that.

Just because he ran didn’t mean it wasn’t still real.

Grian just nodded, glancing down for another moment before he looked back up at Mumbo and met his eyes. “Right.. thanks, Mumbo.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to Grian’s head. “Always.” He pulled back almost instantly. “Now– living situations. You can take the bed, of course, I know you need to rest up. I’ll take the couch for the time being.”

Grian raised a brow. “Mumbo, I am not taking your bed in your own home. I don’t even have to stay here— I’m not sick or dying, you know that, right?”

“Of course I know that— I’m just saying, it would be better to have someone keep an eye on you. I’m worried about you, Grian. Whatever you went through clearly hurt and even if you don’t remember, your body does. And I want to be here for you if you’re in pain or you’re panicked or you just need someone— I don’t want to leave you alone for that long again, Grian..”

Maybe Mumbo was being a bit selfish, but could he be blamed? He loved Grian with all his heart. He was his best friend, his other half— he didn’t need to be at his side at all times, but he’d never complain about it happening. He was just… connected to Grian. Two halves of a whole.

Besides, could Grian really say no to him?

His gaze softened. Grian really didn’t want to stay and intrude on the other’s space, but if Mumbo would worry less about having him here, he should stay, right? It was the least he could do for worrying him so terribly for whoever knows how long.

Well, now Grian felt guilty in a different way, which was better than what he felt before.

“I… If you want me to stay, I wouldn’t mind,” He murmured. “I like being here.”

Mumbo smiled. “Yeah? You like being here or you like seeing me?”

“What, can’t I have both?” Grian teased back, giggling a bit. Mumbo was just happy to see him smile for the first time.

—

The two had winded down for the evening, with time spent on plans for inventing and bases and all sorts of ideas, watching a movie, and talking about anything else than what had happened earlier this morning. Grian didn’t want to talk, so Mumbo wouldn’t push. Instead they talked about their plans for the future— Mumbo had some automated farm ideas and Grian was going on about how stupid the backs of buildings were. It was peaceful. Domestic. Mumbo was just happy to have Grian back in his arms.

They went outside when the stars were finally visible. Mumbo helped to pull Grian up to the top of his base, catching when the other stumbled over the lip of the roof.

“Come on, careful now,” Mumbo laughed a bit, shaking his head.

“Hard to walk when you’re off balance,” Grian fought back, perching himself on the edge and letting his feet dangle over the edge. Mumbo sat beside him and glanced down at his wings. The sight still upset him…

“Have the painkillers kicked in?” He asked worriedly.

Grian nodded. “Yeah. They’re pretty good, not sore all over and my wing feels okay.” He flexed his right wing as if to prove it, and only winced in response.

“Careful, careful— rest it.” Mumbo smoothed his hand over the other’s back.

“I know… it’s just hard.” He whined, leaning into the other’s side. Mumbo took the cue to wrap his arm around him. At least this time he seemed more lighthearted about the ordeal, but the way he stared off ahead of him said otherwise.

“I know. But the feathers will grow back, the break will heal— you’ll be in tip-top shape before you know it!” Mumbo smiled at the other. “You’ll be back to soaring sooner than you think.”

Grian only offered a weak smile in response and was silent. Mumbo knew he was upset— who wouldn’t be?— but all he could do was try to distract the other. The two of them looked up towards the sky, admiring the bright stars in an endless void.

“Do you ever think there’s anything up there?” Mumbo asked.

That got Grian’s attention. “What do you mean?” He asked, snapping his head towards the other.

Mumbo kept his eyes fixed on the stars above him. “Like… I dunno, people? Creatures? Aliens or overlords of some kind?” He asked with a weak chuckle. “Gods?”

Grian really couldn’t help the quickening of his heart as he heard Mumbo speak. None of this was helping him relax— how was he supposed to relax when he was talking about this?! “Oh, um… I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Really?” Mumbo hummed.

“Yeah, really,” Grian looked back up at the sky. All his instincts told him to fly away and panic, but that wasn’t exactly an option right now… Curse his fucking wings. This was some sick, cruel joke.

“That checks for you, I figure… I’ve always thought there’s something more out there. Just feels like space is too big to not have something out there, y’know?” Mumbo smiled as he spoke. Surely this was distracting his partner. “I don’t know who they are or what they do but I bet they’re so nice.”

Was this punishment? This felt like punishment. Hadn’t he had enough? “I mean— I dunno. I’m not really religious, I just find it fun to think about.” Mumbo shrugged a bit.

If there was some kind of creator, Mumbo thought, he had to have smiled on him for some reason. He had everything he ever wanted in his life. He had Grian. Grian was safe and in his arms and his heart was full at the feeling of holding him after being gone for so long.

Tears filled Grian’s eyes, and he stared helplessly at the void above him. He wasn’t anything like that— they weren’t anything like that. They’d hurt him. They took his wings. He deserved it after what he’d done. He was a monster. He didn’t do anything to help this world or make it beautiful, he didn’t have any real power. He served his friends up on a silver platter for the very people he despised. What kind of friend was that? What would Mumbo think if he ever understood what he’d done? He would leave, that’s what he would do. He’d think Grian was irredeemable, soulless. He couldn’t lose him…

He just nodded along to Mumbo’s words. “...Yeah. They must be great.”

—

Mumbo had noticed that as the days passed, Grian’s attitude had changed.

Grian was a fiery little sprite, at the very least. He was mischievous, he was eager, and he was always willing to throw himself into his friends, projects, or pranks— especially pranks.

But the last few days, his eager energy had all but faded. Mumbo attributed it to his injury; healing took a lot of energy, after all. He’d kept his promise of taking the couch at night to be sure Grian got the best rest he could, even running over to grab some blankets and clothes from his base to make a more comfortable nest. Grian made himself cozy in Mumbo’s bed, often beckoning the other in late at night before he fell asleep. Mumbo couldn’t say no, but he would leave when he was sure his lover was asleep. Grian hated to wake up to an empty bed.

His flamy attitude had burnt out completely when he didn’t even want to get out of bed. Mumbo wasn’t going to force him up when previously he was fighting to get the other to stay down. A day of bed rest was great— amazing, Mumbo thought. Two days was even better. Two turned to three, three to five, five to.. ten.

Mumbo was starting to get a little worried now. The amount of rest wasn’t exactly why he was worried, it was how detached Grian seemed from the world. It was like he was completely lost in his head at all times. Every response was short and uninterested, if he even bothered to respond. He stared into space like it was the only place he was allowed to look, and anytime he spared his partner a glance he was met with a prominent tiredness.

He wasn’t sure what was going on with the other— the first day he’d been back he’d been up and bothering him at all times. He even stopped asking him to join him in bed. Grian seemed to want to be alone at all times… Sometimes Mumbo would strike up a conversation with him but it crumbled almost instantly. Grian wanted to be left alone, so he did his best to honor that.

It was lunchtime when Mumbo finally decided to check on the other. He expected the other to be sleeping (as he usually was when he checked on him), but instead he saw the other sitting upright, his left wing extended beside him as he tried to preen his feathers (or what remained of them).

“Hey,” Mumbo offered a small smile to the other. Grian about jumped when he heard his voice and stared at the other, shell-shocked and red for a moment.

“Jeez— you scared me,” He mumbled, resting his hands in his lap.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Mumbo laughed a bit as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “What doin’?”

Grian couldn’t help but smile at the parroting. “Preening. Seeing what feathers are ready to come out,” He glanced at a very small pile of three feathers on the bed. “That’s all I’ve got so far.”

“Already?” He asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded, his fingers going back up to shift his feathers into place. “Some of these were almost ready to fall out anyways… so, once they’re all gone it’ll just be a matter of waiting for the new ones,”

“Right,” Mumbo nodded along. At least he knew that much. “And that’s what’ll take forever, right?”

Grian got a solemn sort of look on his face, and he nodded. “..Yeah. It could be a few more weeks for these guys,” He grabbed gently at feathers on his outermost wing. “And then growing them back could be… a while,”

Mumbo’s eyes traced over the other’s wing. The good thing was that the wounds had fully healed where the feathers were prematurely pulled, which was good. He did notice something peculiar, though.

“Are these already growing back?” He asked, pointing to a little spike shape.

“Oh— yeah. Some of them have started to,” Grian smiled a bit as he gave a test flutter to his wing. “As long as I’m healthy these ones are going to grow back as soon as my body allows it. The other ones I have to wait for them to molt.”

Mumbo could faintly recall Grian talking about molting in the spring and autumn, but he never directly asked him. He regretted it now, but what better time than the present? “So how long will that take?”

“Well, I’ll be waiting for autumn now.” Grian folded his wing back up, his gaze turning downwards. “At least late September. Three or so months…”

It was hard to hide the disappointment in his voice or the way it was written all over his face. Three months to molt, and then who knows how long after that before they’d finish growing in. He’d be lucky to fly before snow fell.

“..Well,” Mumbo smiled at the other, taking his hand into his own. “I’m sure it’ll pass much sooner than you think. It’s summer now, so autumn is just around the corner. And then they’ll be back as good as new!”

Grian offered a slight smile. “Yeah… I hope so. I hate not being able to fly…” He grumbled. He shifted a bit in his spot and glanced at his right wing, slowly trying to unfold it from itself. He winced after a few moments, groaning.

“Hey— easy on that, Gem said not to move it too much,” Mumbo reminded. Leave it to Grian to be stubborn…

“I knowwww. But I need to preen,” Grian insisted, pouting at the other like a child who had been told off. “I need to keep my feathers clean and find any feathers that need to come out, Mumbo— I’ve been able to do this wing,” He unfolded his left one again for demonstration, “but I haven’t been able to get this one at all. I need to suck it up so I can reach.”

Mumbo knew what he was about to say was maybe a bit much, but he and Grian had known each other a considerably long time now. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t trust Mumbo, and it wouldn’t be the very first time it had happened, but the first time in a while.

“Why not let me do it?” He asked.

Grian blinked at him as if that would help him process the words. “You want to help me with preening?”

Mumbo nodded eagerly. “Of course I do. I’ve done it before, I’d be happy to help. That way you don’t have to hurt yourself doing it.”

He seemed to hesitate at the proposition, but after a moment, he unfolded his wing as much as he could without it hurting. “And remember, you can always let me know when you want me to stop,”

Something about it felt weirdly intimate. Grian was letting him help with a task he reserved solely for himself— something he was so peculiar and specific about. This was trust in a raw form, letting Mumbo in on something so private to him. Mumbo was just happy that he’d even considered letting him in.

He pressed a kiss to Grian’s knuckles before he moved his hands over to his wing, smoothing over the skin. He was careful of the mechanism holding it in place (Doc did great with it), and mindful of where some of his feathers were growing back in. They were looking better, that was for sure. You could tell they’d been damaged, but you couldn’t tell it was as severe as it could’ve been. The healing must be going well.

Mumbo carefully began to shift the feathers into place. It had been a while but he remembered vaguely how Grian liked his feathers positioned, so he did his best to mimic the memory. He kept his touch light as he moved them into place, working on the inner feathers first. Some were ready to fall, just like Grian said they would be, but he didn’t pull at them just in case. If they wanted to fall then they would fall. The last thing Grian needed was more force on his wing…

As he made his way into the middle of the feathers, he heard a soft trill come from his partner and he couldn’t help but smile. “You seem positively chuffed,” He murmured.

Grian laughed— Oh, how Mumbo missed that laugh. “It’s nice to not have to do all the work myself, for once,”

“Wow— I can’t believe you’re not working,” He chuckled.

“That’s rich from you, Mumbo. You never take breaks,” Grian pointed out, flicking the side of his head and earning an ‘ow!’ “How many times have I found you half asleep or fully asleep over your redstone?”

“At least I finish the backs of my builds!” Mumbo teased right back at him, earning an offended gasp as he dissolved into giggles.

They settled into silence after Mumbo stopped laughing, and Grian’s smile stayed stamped on his face as he watched the other work on his wing. He noticed the staring after a few moments, and he met his gaze with a slight smirk.

“What?” He asked.

Grian hummed. “Nothin’. Just lookin’.”

Mumbo scoffed, unable to hide his own smile. “You’re ridiculous,” He murmured.

“What? I’m not allowed to watch?” Grian teased. “They’re my wings, I’ll do what I please,”

He couldn’t help his giggles. “You’re lucky I love you, Gri,”

Grian fell into comfortable silence, staring off into space as his feathers were shifted into place. He was lucky, wasn’t he? To have someone so sweet and kind as Mumbo at his side? To have someone who listened and didn’t judge too harshly, to have someone who would listen to whatever he said and follow him to the world border. Mumbo was wonderful to him…

He felt his heart twist in his chest at the thought. Mumbo was so lovely. So amazing. He didn’t deserve Grian. He didn’t deserve a manipulative, calculated, selfish, and arrogant liar like him. Mumbo deserved someone who didn’t keep secrets, who didn’t organize such horrible horrible horrible games, who wasn’t brave enough to fight against his captors even after he’d gotten out. A flimsy, flagrant, worthless creature. Grian didn’t deserve any of this. He was disgusting. All he wanted was to create but all he did was hurt and destroy.

Grian must’ve looked pathetic with the way Mumbo cupped his face, offering a sympathetic gaze. He was suddenly very aware of the wetness in his eyes and the tears blurring his vision. Fuck.

“Are you hurt?” Mumbo asked softly.

“No— No, ‘m fine, just… I don’t know,” He grumbled, wiping his tears off with his sleeve.

Mumbo smoothed his thumbs over the other’s cheekbones, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I get it,” Grian just nodded along with his words.

“…You know I love you, right?” He asked.

Grian was a bit confused at the suddenness, but Mumbo was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. “Of course I know that— I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t,”

“Well obviously,” Mumbo laughed a bit. “I just— I mean no matter what, I love you,”

“What?” Grian let out a watery laugh. He was so selfish keeping the truth from him… “…How do you only see the good in me, Mumbo?”

“Because to me you are only good. You’re energy personified— you’re like lightning in a bottle— you make life interesting and exciting, maybe at the cost of another person’s sanity at times, but fun nonetheless. You’re sweet and you’re always up to help your friends and you’re passionate about your building and contraptions. You’ve helped everyone here, you bring light with you everywhere you go, and you just… make everything better.”

The way Mumbo spoke with stars in his eyes had Grian’s heart nearly caving in on itself. He couldn’t stand the fact that Mumbo meant every word. Tears were overflowing before he knew it, and Mumbo just held him in his arms as he cried and gripped the other.

His hands smoothed over Grian’s back as the other cried into his suit jacket. He held on so tightly that Mumbo occasionally worried about his breath, but he’d squish the thought down just moments later. “Grian, what’s going on?” He asked softly, a hand coming up to comb through his hair.

“You say I’m a good person— that I’m— I’m so nice—” He took a breath. “You don’t know everything, Mumbo— I’m not—”

Mumbo held a hand over Grian’s mouth for a few moments, before he dropped his hand and took both of Grian’s into his own. “You’re right— I don’t know,” Mumbo admitted, staring into Grian’s eyes with some kind of determined conviction. “But I don’t need to. I don’t know much about who you were before you got here but I don’t need to. Nothing could change the fact that I love you.”

Grian had mentioned very small bits of information through the time they’d known each other. Mumbo, although admittedly curious, didn’t question it. He didn’t bring up the weird dots and lines on his wrist, he didn’t push when Grian mentioned something he hadn’t wanted to do but did, and didn’t ask when he very rarely brought up where he came from before. It was obvious that whatever brought Grian here, he had wanted to escape from it.

“I love you. No matter what happened to you, no matter what you did, I would go to the end of the world to understand if it meant I got to keep loving you.”

Grian wanted to sob all over again. Mumbo didn’t know how horrible he was— but, at the same time, he didn’t need to. Mumbo knew he wasn’t great after he left, but he didn’t have context or answers. He didn’t know anything. He could’ve assumed the worst and he still loved him no matter what.

If he told Mumbo about the game surely that would change his view on him. If he told him about the Watchers that would just about shatter his world.

That was a conversation for another day, one he prayed would never come.

Grian broke down into tears again, holding onto Mumbo like he’d vanish if he let go. Mumbo just shushed him gently and held him. Whatever it was that was bothering him, it had to have been a long time coming, if the reaction was anything to go off of.

Maybe Mumbo had said something that triggered this, he wasn’t sure. Grian was always sensitive about his past ventures. All Mumbo could do now was help the present ones be better.

While he held him, he kept his hand resting gently on his back, rubbing soft circles at the base of his wings. “You’re okay, Gri. You’re okay..”

Was he? Was he okay? Grian couldn’t help the heaving of his breaths as he desperately tried to keep himself steady. Maybe Mumbo was right— he was only doing these things because he had to, right? He wouldn’t do this if he was normal. He liked making games, setting traps, but he didn’t like it when it was all for the benefit of the Watchers.

“I love you— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mumbo.” He sniffled, pulling back to wipe at his nose with his sleeve.

“Grian. I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you haven’t done anything to warrant it...” He assured. Mumbo cupped his face in his hand again, the tips of his fingers reaching up to scratch at his ear feathers.

Grian had to get himself together, this was pathetic. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he reached for a glass of water on the table. Mumbo handed it to him and watched as he drank the rest of the contents in the glass.

“Do you want any more?” He asked as he took the glass, earning a head shake from Grian.

“Just focus on breathing…” Mumbo murmured. He took Grian’s hand into his own, letting the other grip and squeeze as he tried to steady his breaths. Grian squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, letting out a loud sigh. He continued to take slow breaths, occasionally hiccuping or taking a shorter one, but for the most part taking an even pace with it.

It wasn’t often Grian had these little anxiety attacks, but it was still too much for Mumbo’s liking. At least it wasn’t a panic attack— that would have been ten times worse. Mumbo rubbed circles into the other’s knuckles, waiting for him to speak or move. He wouldn’t force Grian before he was ready. They stayed like that for a while. Mumbo waited. He held his hands in his own, staring down at them, and waited.

Grian took a deep breath and held it for a moment, sighing out and closing his eyes. “…I’m— sorry,”

“Nope. None of that. Absolutely none of that.” Mumbo said. “It’s been a lot these past few weeks for you. I’d be no better if I was in your position,”

“…Still,” Grian grumbled. He didn’t like being like this, all weak and pathetic. It felt gross.

“Well I love you even still.” Mumbo said sweetly. Groan looked up, his eyes still slightly watery as he breathed out another sigh.

Mumbo loved him in every form he took, didn’t he? Part of Grian thought it was naive, to love so blindly and deeply, but a part of him just felt happy to be seen. Mumbo seemed so sure of himself when he said stuff like that. When Grian had outbursts or broke down, he was always there to help if he would accept it. If Mumbo could handle his lows and highs, maybe one day he’d get around to telling him the rest.

That was a silly thought, he knew that. It wasn’t probable in any scenario. But the idea of being fully open about his life— he felt Mumbo deserved that. He wanted to tell him.

“Mumbo?”

“Yes, Grian?”

He was silent for a few moments.

Not now.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Gri.”

Some things were better left unsaid, at least for now. Mumbo would find out in his own time. Grian just prayed he’d never be able to remember.

—

Spring turned to summer in the blink of an eye. After several weeks of groaning and complaining, Grian’s wing was deemed healed and he was able to stretch it again (something he had missed so terribly). Over the course of those weeks, he’d practically lived with Mumbo, who insisted on doting on him more than Grian would’ve admitted to liking. The time together had been so nice… when he wasn’t working on his ‘mysterious secret project’ he wouldn’t let Grian see.

The ripped out feathers were replaced with fresh new ones, vibrant and radiant and shining under the sun. The other ones still had to molt, but after that, he’d be back to normal.

One thing Grian had noticed was that the guilt was gone. Well— not entirely, he wasn’t sure it would leave completely, but he felt much less about it. Knowing he only did what he did out of need to please overlords really did put his mind to ease, after he stopped blaming himself. Days on end were spent in his head trying to rationalize his decisions.

He spent lots of time crying, of course. That was a given. Dreams of him falling through the void plagued him and always ended up startling him awake before he hit the endstone. He really did feel bad, but also a bit proud, too. His stunt had upset the Watchers this much. That with the combined knowledge that his friends remembered nothing did soothe his soul.

Grian figured that with time the feeling would continue to dull. All he could focus on was here and now.

For the first time in ages, the sun shone on his face and it didn’t transport him back to the desert. It wasn’t melting him or scorching him, there was no smell of dust or dried clay. It felt hot, yes, but it was like a warm hug, with poppies and lilacs in the wind.

Grian breathed out a sigh, his eyes opening and instantly landing on Mumbo. He smirked. Climbing up onto the base of Mumbo’s roof, he leaned over the lip of it and stared down like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

Grian steadied himself once, twice, and then leapt off the building with his wings spreading out behind him.

He landed on Mumbo’s back, earning a shout of surprise from the other as he dropped his repeater. “What doin’?”

“Grian!!” He whipped his head around, letting out nervous laughter.

Grian couldn’t help his own giggling. “You could’ve broken your wing again!” Mumbo scolded.

“But I didn’t.” He smirked, poking Mumbo’s chest before he dropped himself onto the ground. “You’re lucky I’ve got enough feathers to glide, or else I probably would’ve,”

Mumbo sighed, unable to hide his smile behind his false displeased tone. “You absolute fool,” he murmured. He grabbed Grian’s hand and pulled him in closer.

“Come with me.”

Mumbo immediately began to lead him back to his base, and although Grian pestered him with questions like ‘What is it?’ or ‘Where are we going?’ Mumbo never once budged.

He led him inside, past his bedroom, and into his little workshop. It’d be bigger when he was done with his actual base but it was still bigger than Grian would’ve thought for a starter base.

“Close your eyes.” Mumbo grinned at him. He had a giddy look in his eyes that really made it hard for Grian to say no, so he did as told.

“Alright. Closed,” Grian placed his hands over his eyes.

“And no peeking!!” Mumbo called as he walked further into the room. Grian could hear the sounds of chests opening, as well as a few redstone mechanisms going. His whole laboratory was Grian-proof (it had to be after the incident), so it made sense that whatever he was working on was as well.

After a few moments, the sound of a chest shutting met Grian’s ears, and his feathers perked up at the sound. He peeked through the gaps of his fingers for a moment but was unable to piece anything major together.

He heard footsteps approaching him.

“Okay, you can look now!”

When Grian opened his eyes, he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what Mumbo held out for him. He had the biggest, most dopey grin on his face, looking proud as ever of his creation.

It was a modified elytra of some kind, with supports to mimic the structure of his actual wings. They were covered in feathers, dyed to match the pattern of his own wings and cascading in red, yellow, and blue.

“…You— You made these for me?” Grian asked quietly.

“Of course I did,” Mumbo said eagerly. “I studied bird anatomy and went to Doc for some help on how to design the bend of the wing and how they’d attach, but they’re like replacements for your wings until your feathers grow back in… And I modified some elytra so they’d actually be able to make you fly, since that’s.. the whole point— oh! And, obviously there’s a little redstone touch,” he grinned. “There’s a little switch on the inside of one of the wings that’ll give you a little temporary speed boost, in case you needed it or wanted it or they were about to break or something,” Mumbo glanced down at them before back at Grian. He realized he’d been rambling and for a moment his face was red. “Do you like them?”

Did he like them? Grian felt his heart swell with overwhelming love, as if it was seeping from his chest into his stomach and turning into raging butterflies. Mumbo did this for him… He made him wings after they’d been taken from him.

Grian could’ve cried right then and there. He almost did, tears brimming over his eyes as he smiled at Mumbo. He tackled the other to a hug, earning a shout and a few giggles from the other man.

“I’m assuming you like them?” Mumbo asked. He was beyond proud of his creation— he’d even taken them for a little test drive himself and they were snazzy. Most importantly, they were Grian-proof. Fail-safe and secure was how Mumbo liked his inventions.

“I love them,” Grian grinned at the other, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “These— they’re— they’re so beautiful— how long did these take you?” He held the feathers in his hands, stroking slowly.

“Oh, gosh, um… I started on these when I saw you all sad and in bed for a week and a half. I was drawing out ideas for maybe a week before I settled on something I liked, getting the elytra was… challenging, it took longer than I would’ve liked, and then the armatures and such didn’t take long at all. The feathers took the longest probably, dying each one by itself,” Mumbo hummed. “I finished them earlier this morning.”

Grian felt so overwhelmed, taking the wings into his hands. They were light, shockingly enough— he wasn’t surprised that they were practically perfect, Mumbo wouldn’t show off that was anything less than.

“…I love them,” He repeated quietly, looking up with a bright smile. “They’re… amazing, Mumbo. Seriously..”

“Well you haven’t even tried them out yet! You can’t say that until you know!” Mumbo laughed a bit, taking his hand. Grian rushed past him, practically pulling the other through the house until he was outside.

“Here,” Mumbo reached into a couple of his shulkers from his nearby chest monster, eventually pulling out a few rockets. “Just be careful. It’s been a while, I don’t want you hurt.”

“Mumbo. I’ve been flying forever— I know how to,” Grian laughed a bit, sliding the wings on. They lined up almost perfectly with his own, and from a distance (or even close up), you couldn’t tell where Mumbo’s wings began and where his own ended. It was nice to have a full set of feathers, even if it was temporary for now.

“I know, I’m just saying. It’s been a while,” Mumbo laughed. He moved behind Grian to ensure they were affixed properly and let out a sigh. “All yours, captain,”

Grian readied a rocket in his hand, staring up at the bright sun in the sky. It was so bright, so warm, he thought it might swallow him whole if he flew towards it.

He hesitated for a few moments before he cracked it, sending himself flying into the air. Mumbo was right, it had been a while, and after a few moments of flailing Grian’s instincts kicked in and his wings snapped out behind him to keep him above. Another firework rocket sent him forward and he stared down at the foliage and ground beneath him, looking so small and far.

From a distance, he could see Mumbo grinning and faintly he heard his screams of excitement, but Grian was focused on the wind on his skin and the warmth on his face. To return to what was meant to be after what felt like so long felt like rekindling a flame inside him, like it had been kickstarted and hot coals were being poured on it for every block he flew.

Grian stared up at the sun, unable to help his grin. The sun never shone so bright.