Archive of Our Own

Void. All he saw was nothing, surrounding him as far as the eye could see and swallowing him whole. He was falling— was he? He felt like he was but he couldn’t really base it off of anything other than the feeling he had. He felt strangely calm. Like he’d been here before.

Mumbo didn’t have any recollection of where he was before this.

Well, he did but he didn’t have any idea how he got there.

He had fractured memories over the years, little bits of pieces popping in and out of his head akin to deja vu. After about a year or so of getting random flashbacks to things he couldn’t clearly remember, Mumbo had mentioned it offhandedly.

He talked to Ren, Tango, and Etho about it, all who mentioned something similar. Little fragmented memories were flashing in their mind every now and again. They were eager to talk about it, probably feeling the same frustration he was, Mumbo thought.

That gave him the courage to talk to a few other people about it. Grian was the first person he was prepared to have a conversation with— Grian probably felt the very same thing he did!— and he rushed over to his base pretty quickly after gathering some more testimonies.

———

Grian stared at his desk. Bored is how he felt. Stressed. Nervous, tired, disinterested, all wrapped up into one ball and sitting in his chest.

If Grian didn’t get a move on with this project he’d probably have his wings cut off.

He stared at the die, stared at the eight cards before him.

The Watchers may not have been pleased with his win but they were happy with the feast they had. So pleased, in fact, they wanted another season. Another victor, another soul to break, another round of despair and upset, all to fill their disgusting greed.

Grian obliged, of course, but not without making it hard for them.

This was his creation— he orchestrated the first game, and now he was in commission until they got bored of the taste or hungry for something stronger. Grian didn’t know what he’d do if their lust for human emotion got stronger. Killing or being killed by your friends was a pretty strong feeling…

He still felt guilty about the desert.

Now they wanted more. They wanted more chaos, more high strung energy; the perfect cooking pot for the stew of tears and anger. Grian felt sick. He hated being their little puppet, strung along whichever way they wanted when they wanted, forced to do as the puppeteers made him.

He really needed to think of something good to do with these wildcards…

He picked up his pencil again, jotting down a few things on a separate piece of paper before he was jolted up by the sound of a knock on his door.

“Grian!!” Mumbo didn’t even wait for the other to open the door— it was a courtesy knock at this point; they didn’t really do the whole ‘waiting’ thing for each other.

“What? What’s happened?” He asked. The way Mumbo had barged in looking like a ticking time bomb did have him worried for a minute. Mumbo didn’t get this excited often…

“Have you been having strange flashbacks?!”

“…What?”

Mumbo faltered for a moment, clearing his throat. “Well— for the past few years I’ve been having these weird little flashbacks to memories I don’t really remember. It’s all fuzzy but I can pick out certain bits and pieces—”

No.

“—Like, I… I remember… I remember being with you and Martyn in.. a forest and then, a big statue with like a place you could put your secret task in, and… it’s all fuzzy but I feel like it’s real!!—”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck FUCK.

“I keep getting choppy bits— Tango agreed with me he felt it was weird! A-And so did Ren and Etho! They all said they had these weird flashback-y bits and…” Mumbo took a breath, pausing for too short of a moment for Grian’s liking. “…They feel real. Like they happened and… I was coming to ask if you had anything like that happen?”

Mumbo was a bit red from how carried away he’d gotten, but to his defense, having suspicions of several years confirmed wasn’t exactly a casual thing. He was excited! He kept feeling like he’d been going crazy with the little husks of memories flashing in his mind or his dreams, but he finally had some people to help him corroborate what was going on.

“No.”

Admittedly Mumbo was a bit taken aback at the shortness of Grian’s reply. “I— what?”

“I said no. I don’t have any memories.”

Grian’s tone was cold. Sharp and icy and it made Mumbo wonder what he did to deserve this treatment.

“I… oh. Okay, sorry. I just… thought I’d ask.” Mumbo murmured, trailing off as the confidence deflated in him. Grian did feel a little bad for the other.. having weird flashbacks to memories you had no recollection of and confiding in the person you trusted most and getting shut out? He imagined that it wasn’t a great feeling.

No— he had a job to do.

“Well, sorry, I’m not of much help.”

Mumbo shifted a bit in his spot. “…That’s alright. I mean, I was just… yeah.” He began to walk over to Grian’s desk only for the other to step forward, his wings stretching out as if to block it.

“I’m busy.”

“..Oh.”

Why was he acting so weird?

“Sorry. I’ll… pop by later, then.”

Grian was almost glaring at him, with a kind of ferocity and guilt Mumbo thought was a strange combination. This wasn’t the first time he’d acted weird— Grian seemed to just shut him out randomly and wouldn’t give much rhyme or reason to why. Mumbo had grown used to it over the course of their relationship but he never grew to like it.

This time did set him off, just a bit.

“Alright. See you later.”

Mumbo sighed. He took the hint and he left, wondering why Grian was so upset at him for a simple question…

—

Turns out Grian wasn’t the only one upset when quizzed on this kind of thing. He talked to a few other hermits in hopes of getting some semblance of an answer. Some had no recollections, which he expected.

Some had similar reactions to Grian, though.

Pearl all but snapped at him. Cleo seemed uncomfortable, dodging all his questions and eventually excusing herself from the conversation. He’d even asked Martyn and Scott, who also got defensive of the questions.

Mumbo really was starting to wonder what was happening around here. It wasn’t central to Hermitcraft, and whatever it was it was spread throughout different worlds..

He tried to get his mind off of things— it was driving him crazy after a while. He was in his iron shop organizing a few things and restocking when he heard the door swing open.

“Oh— hey, Mumbo!”

Scar’s voice did surprise him a bit, but he was happy to see the other. “Hey!” Mumbo smiled at him. “Come to get some iron or are you here to put in a noise complaint?”

“Just here to stock up, no suing involved,” Scar hummed, making his way over to the other.

It took Mumbo a moment to realize something.

When Grian had gone missing and he was looking for him, Scar had something to say.

What was it… something about a desert?

Scar was grabbing a few stacks of iron from the shulker when Mumbo spoke again, “Hey, um, Scar? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course— what’s up?” He asked, glancing over at him before back at the shulker.

“…Have you been having any strange flashbacks lately?”

Scar hummed for a moment, silent. “Not that I can think of… what do you mean?”

“Like— Like I keep having these little memories pop up in my mind but I can’t remember them completely, if that makes sense. Like… Like being in a forest and making all these stupid jokes with Martyn and Grian and Impulse and Jimmy, or… this big shrine or something where you got a secret task—”

Scar dropped all his iron, the sound of metal hitting the floor echoing through the shop. “The Secret Keeper? You remember that?”

This was new.

The way Scar looked at him with wide eyes and his mouth agape told Mumbo everything he needed to know. “I thought I was the only one who remembered Secret Life…”

“Secret Life?”

—

Scar and Mumbo sat in his iron shop for what felt like hours, going over details and recollections of whatever ‘Secret Life’ was. Mumbo was able to piece together it was sort of like Demise, which had been born here on the Hermitcraft server (Grian made that, didn’t he?) except when you died for the final time, there was no coming back. Alliances formed early on, crumbled when the breaking point came, and left only one victor. The ultimate game of betrayal, using people and relationships like pawns. It was cruel at best, inhumane at the very least.

“…Do you think there’s been more than one?” Mumbo asked quietly.

“Oh, there are.” Scar hummed. “I don’t remember anything from the seasons before but when I was in Secret Life, I just… everything came back to me, kinda. Well not everything, but more than what I can remember now… there’s been at least five..”

“Why are we being put in these.. killing games?” Mumbo murmured.

“…I don’t know.” Scar shrugged. “So you said people got upset when you brought it up?”

“Yeah— like Grian, Pearl, Cleo… they all got upset with me.” Mumbo glanced down for a moment. “They were all insisting they didn’t really know what I was talking about.”

“Well that’s strange… they were definitely there.” Scar hummed. “Maybe they don’t wanna talk about it?”

Grian told him everything. Every prank gone wrong, every mistake he made, every time he got upset… he told Mumbo everything.

But he wouldn’t dare talk about what happened before he came here.

“..Maybe?” Mumbo sighed. “I don’t know… thanks, Scar, for the talk. Seriously, this… has helped in more ways than you know. I mean, I don’t feel crazy anymore.” He chuckled.

“Oh, trust me, I understand. Being stuck in there for as long as I was… it was… rough,” Scar glanced up at him for a few moments. “But, y’know, happy to be back here. I’m just surprised anybody else remembers it. I thought I was the only one when on my first day back everyone acted normal. It’s… jarring.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mumbo murmured. “Maybe these are all like weird dreams?”

“…They feel real, though. Too real to be a dream. Like people wouldn’t get defensive if they weren’t real, I don’t think,” Scar mused aloud, shrugging. “Don’t take my word for it, though. I’m not the one organizing all this.”

“But who would organize this? This— This is insane. You’d have to be a— a monster to set up this kind of thing…” Mumbo said quietly. The thought of it being someone they all knew made him near nauseous. Someone among them was so sadistic and wicked, getting off on the bloodshed and betrayal they caused.

Mumbo’s head was spinning.

“…Thank you for the chat, Scar. I— truly. I appreciate it. Thank you.” He stood, dusting off his pants.

“Oh, not a problem,” Scar smiled at the other. “I’m just happy to be of help!”

Mumbo smiled back at him. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else, alright?”

“Yep, and I’ll do the same. Promise.” Scar picked his iron up and set it in his bag. “Thanks for the chat and the iron, Mumbo! If you have any more crises just let me know!”

He watched Scar exit the shop, letting out a quiet sigh. The majority of him wanted to go tell Grian what he’d found out, but a small part of him screamed at him not to. He didn’t often, but he felt compelled for once to listen to the tiny voice in his head. He began the trek back to Grian’s base, feeling the knowledge he’d just acquired weighing heavy on his conscience.

—

Grian sat at his desk. He’d hardly moved that day, lurched over his desk in hopes of coming up with something creative. He had a few ideas jotted down— snails, superpowers (he’d have to come up with those, though), mob swap…

Ugh. He was making himself sick.

Grian stood up, stretching and cringing at the cracking of his back and wings. He stared at his desk and at the cards, some filled with unreadable language and some blank. He stared at the die at the edge of it, and at the red heart that faced him.

He almost felt guilty about it, but the feeling went away as he pushed in his chair and began to head to his kitchen. When Mumbo had come in, it was light outside, and now it was dark. How long had he been up here?

Grian let himself muse on the thought as he began to cut himself up an apple. He wasn’t super hungry, and he really should wait for Mumbo if they were going to have dinner together. Though, he might not want to see him…

He was pretty mean to him. He felt bad about that, really he did, but he didn’t do it without reason. If Mumbo saw anything he was doing or had an inkling of suspicion, his relationship with him was in total jeopardy.

He figured Mumbo would know who or what Watchers were, most people did. But the image that was presented to everyone was vague, albeit much cleaner than the reality. They didn’t know about their feedings, their sadistic nature, their need to pull players from their worlds and puppeteer them to their every bend and will…

At least he wasn’t like that. It wasn’t his choice to be doing what he was doing…

Guilt laid heavy on his chest as he set the apple core aside for the composter. Every part of him screamed at him to tell Mumbo, to spill everything that had been happening and lay it all out there for him to take. To be open, honest, intimate in the most raw way possible and let him in on every detail he’d been hiding his whole life. To tell him about the person he used to be and was still being chased by to this day.

He didn’t like lying to him or shutting him out when he got too close. But if Mumbo understood everything, then… he’d be left alone. Maybe Grian was selfish for that, wanting to have company, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t want to go back.

Grian forced himself to choke down a few apple slices. It wasn’t quite ripe, but it was good enough for him. He probably shouldn’t have eaten it so soon but it was better than something inedible.

He tucked that thought away for later. That could be interesting.

Grian was midway through his snack when he heard a knock on the door, and then it hesitatingly opened. He glanced over and saw Mumbo, looking absolutely tired and almost spooked, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Hey, Mumbo— you alright?” Grian asked softly.

Mumbo closed the door behind him with a sigh. “..Yeah, just… just tired. That’s all. I… was wondering if this was, um, a better time than this afternoon?”

Grian couldn’t help his heart twisting in his chest, guilt rising up and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “Y—Yeah, now… is a good time. I’m sorry, about earlier… I just, have a lot going on..”

“I get it. We all get stressed sometimes..” Mumbo made his way over to the other. “I didn’t take it personally.”

Grian knew that was a lie to save face, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to fight right now. He just wanted to clear the tension in the air. As soon as Mumbo was within reach, Grian practically leapt at the other and pulled him into a hug. Mumbo stumbled a bit as he tried to regain his balance, laughing a bit and hugging Grian back tightly. His wings closed around the two of them, creating a cocoon of coziness that was just for the two of them. In return Mumbo squeezed him tight, earning a soft trill.

Mumbo’s hands reached up to stroke his back, keeping his touch featherlight. Grian let out a quiet coo at the action and Mumbo couldn’t help but smile slightly. Moments like this reminded him of why he was here in the first place.

“I love you,” Mumbo said quietly, his hands resting on the other’s waist. “I’d love you no matter what, Grian. Forever.”

The guilt in Grian’s chest threatened to spill over from his mouth and take the form of words, to tell Mumbo just what a vile thing he was saying such sweet words to. Mumbo deserved better than this.

“I love you too..”

—

The two had relaxed for a few hours before Mumbo had bid the other goodnight. Something about needing to get some rest for a project tomorrow, and Grian said he’d be up late anyway and didn’t want to keep the other up. Mumbo thought it was weird, but when asked Grian wouldn’t give any details about his plans. He didn’t push it.

Mumbo left his base closer to midnight and quickly got himself ready for bed, falling asleep pretty quickly despite the lingering panic in his head. He’d spent all day worrying and trying to string together the tiny puzzle pieces he had of the situation, but was still missing any sort of semblance of a bigger picture. He had more questions now. But there was nothing he could do right now, and that gave him enough comfort to let himself sleep.

Grian got back to work, spending the next few hours finishing his wildcards. Everything was done. All he had to do now was present.

—

Grian hated coming here. He didn’t mind the void— he’d gotten quite used to it over the years— but he just… loathed everything else. He didn’t like having to change his form and don his stupid robe and look like someone who he wasn’t. He hated seeing his reflection and seeing a million eyes stare back at him. It made him sick.

Grian held the cards in his hands, silent as he approached his council. He let his eyes fall to the floor, feathers covering them as he waited to be spoken to before he did anything else.

“I see you’ve finished your task. Please let us see the cards.” Grian held the cards out, and watched as they were taken up to the other Watchers. He always felt small in comparison— in a metaphorical sense. They had so much more knowledge, experience, wisdom… power. That made him nervous to even be here.

He watched as the cards were shuffled through, counting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

“Xelqua. Where is the last card?”

Fuck.

“…I—It should be there. I apologize. It must have slipped out from the pile.”

He heard murmuring from above, and a scoff.

“Then we will decide it for you.”

“Thank you.” Grian said quietly. He waited, waited for his ‘name’ to be said or to be given a command, but it didn’t come. He stood there for a few minutes, eyes glued to the floor.

“You know,” Another voice spoke up, with a more pleased tone. “Despite your little slip-up, we’re quite impressed with these. I say you’ve out done yourself, Xelqua.”

Why did he smile? Why did he relish in the praise?

“Thank you.”

“This will be sure to set off some interesting reactions… you’re learning well.”

“He’d be learning more if he stayed with us, instead of fleeing and insisting on imitating a normal life.”

“He made his choice. He’s paid his dues.”

He really did hate when they talked about him like he wasn’t there, or when they infantilized him and made him feel smaller than he already was. Everything about being here made his stomach churn and his heart race, fueled by nothing but anxiety and resentment. They fed on him more than he would’ve liked.

Maybe that’s why they summoned him. For a snack.

“Good job, Xelqua. You may go.”

“…B—Before I go,” He mentally cursed at himself for stammering like an idiot. “I would like to raise a concern to you.”

They raised their brow, not out of confusion but more out of dismay. “Go ahead.”

“..The players are remembering the games. Bits and pieces of them. They have moments of recollection when they should have none..” Grian said quietly, having the gall to look up and meet the seemingly millions of eyes that stared him down.

“Are they remembering them in their entirety?”

Grian paused for a moment before he answered, “No, but—”

“Then it is not a concern of ours, Xelqua. Nor should it be yours.”

“But—”

“You may go.”

Grian took a moment to compose himself before he nodded, bowing his head and quickly leaving.

They should’ve listened to him— why would they? What did he know?

At least whatever followed wouldn’t be entirely his fault…

—

Mumbo awoke with a start. He wasn’t sure what had woken him and why he was up, but he had panic fill his body and slowly dissipate as he sat up, glancing around his darkened bedroom. He quickly reached for his communicator, glancing at the time.

4:17 AM

Oh.

Mumbo rubbed his eyes, glancing down again. Grian was supposed to be up late… maybe he’d still be awake? He ruminated on the thought for a few moments before he hesitantly typed out a message.

Mumbo: are you still up?

If Grian was, he probably would’ve answered in an instant. But when no response came, Mumbo didn’t want to just take no for an answer, he felt something itching deep inside his skin to go over and see him. Maybe he just wanted comfort after what he could only assume was a nightmare, maybe he wanted to see what Grian was doing so late at night.

Mumbo should’ve been better— if Grian was setting boundaries Mumbo should respect them with no questions asked. But he couldn’t help the fact that all the hiding Grian did sometimes made him suspicious— of what, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t sure what the other would have to hide in the first place? And he was still worrying about the information Scar had given him.

Surely that couldn’t have anything to do with this. No, Grian had always been secretive about random things.

But something in Mumbo’s ribs told him maybe it was.

He quickly changed out of his pajamas and got himself presentable— he wasn’t sure who he’d run into at four in the morning but he needed to be decent. He rushed out of his base, launching off with a rocket to fly with unsure urgency to Grian’s base.

He wasn’t sure why he felt such desperation to get there. It was probably nothing, he was just being silly. That didn’t calm the racing heart in his chest, though.

He landed himself on the ground almost with a crash, stumbling inside Grian’s base and closing the door quietly. “Grian?” He called quietly.

The lights were off, and the quiet that filled the room sunk into his skin down to his very core. He could be anywhere, in any of the many buildings in his base— he could be down at the dock.

Mumbo felt compelled to check his bedroom first. Of course he did— that’s where he’d be if he was sleeping…

He quietly tip-toed up the stairs, glancing around for a moment before his eyes landed on his desk. Whatever was there, it glowed, with this kind of brilliance Mumbo associated with a portal. It beckoned to him, urging him to come closer and whispering to just see what was before him.

This was most certainly what Grian was hiding. If he were a good boyfriend, he’d turn his back now and forget he saw anything. He wouldn’t take another step or spare it another thought.

Right now, he wasn’t that person.

He stepped towards it quietly, as if a sound would rip it from existence itself. With slightly shaking hands, he leaned himself over the desk and began to read the card.

This wasn’t any language he recognized.

Well, that was a lie. He recognized the characters a few moments later. He’d seen these at every enchanting table, and that was all written in an ancient language, dead and with few translations to this very day.

Why would Grian be writing in this?

Was it to ensure safety? Privacy? How would he even know how to read or write this? He couldn’t think of anyone who could decipher this… maybe Xisuma? Even that was a reach. Mumbo reached forward and held it gently in his trembling hands.

Was this related?

This felt related.

He glanced at the desk again, scouring for any other details to see if he could find something, anything to piece together some form of a clue when his eye landed on a single die.

The green, yellow, and red hearts on the die paired with the unintelligible language absolutely confused Mumbo, and he set both items down after a few moments. His head was spinning. He felt like the world was caving in and he was at the center of it, like the floorboards were falling beneath him and all he could do was watch it happen. The hearts felt familiar— the cards, not so much.

What was this?

Mumbo tried to rack his brain for any kind of reasonable explanation. His boyfriend was writing in a dead language on cards that looked phosphorescent— no need to panic!

He felt nauseous— things were starting to piece together but he still had so many questions. A lot of ‘why’s and ‘how’s and he was wondering now if this was related to why Grian got so defensive over his past. Was this what he was running from? But what would that even mean? Why would this relate to his past?

Mumbo had too many questions for his own good. He knew something was wrong but he didn’t know what, and that hurt him more than he would’ve liked to admit. Why wouldn’t he trust him with this? Maybe this was bigger than he’d realized, something that he wasn’t supposed to be involved in. If it involved Grian, though, he would be involved. He loved that man damnit and he would be damned before he willingly let something happen to him.

Mumbo flipped the card over in his hands, staring at the symbol in the middle. Glowing vivid purple, and emitting a faint light. Two dots, two lines.

He’d seen that before. He’d seen it on Grian’s wrist.

The other got upset anytime he brought it up— and now it was just here on this card?

“What the hell..” He murmured, trying to make sense of whatever he was getting himself into. In each corner of the card there was an eye, something Mumbo felt like he should know but was drawing a blank over it. He’d seen this before— surely he had… but he couldn’t think of it at all.

———

It was clear right now. He had a clear recollection of the last few days; the stupid fucking wildcards, they’d driven him mad. Some of them were fun, though… he didn’t mind the sub-one club or being turned into a robot for a bit (as much as that annoyed him in the moment). Dying to Grian’s creation was not his ideal way to go, but coming back as Cleo’s zombie was a pretty fun experience.

Even if that meant killing Grian. Oh, the thought nauseated him.

Mumbo was brought back from his reminiscing when he saw a faint light in the distance. Contrasting against the black nothingness of the void, it was hard to miss. His breath caught in his throat, and he reached his hands outwards. He felt a sort of familiarity at the approaching sight, like this was not only something he’d seen before but something he’d grown comfortable with. He should’ve felt scared but all he felt was calm.

The white wings nearly blinded him for a moment, but he quickly recognized the figure almost instantly. Messy, sandy hair and eyes that he could just sink right into; Mumbo could recognize Grian anywhere, in any state.

Even with different wings, a strange purple halo, odd cloak, and so many eyes, he saw his Grian.

He looked like an angel.

Grian cupped his face in his hands. He was smiling, almost, with a somber look in his eyes. Regret, Mumbo thought.

He said something that he couldn’t quite hear, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll see you soon, Mumbo.”

—

When Mumbo woke up in his bed, he felt dazed. Exhausted, really. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks, even though he’d quite literally just woken up. He had some… weird dreams… His body ached with the phantom sensation of pain, set deep in his bones and his soul. God, what did he do yesterday to deserve this?

Glancing around for a moment he found that he wasn’t in his bed at all— this was Grian’s bed. He didn’t remember sleeping here… nor did he remember falling asleep in his button up and dress pants. His tie was folded neatly on the bedside table beside him.

Mumbo looked over to find the bed empty. Funny. Grian always slept later than he did. He let out a loud sigh, sitting himself up and rubbing his hands over his eyes. No use sitting in bed, even if he wanted to sleep for another seven hours. He had things to do today.

He got himself up and dragged himself down the stairs, glancing over at the sight of Grian in the kitchen. “You’re up early.”

Grian jumped at the sudden sound and let out a squawk. “Goodness gracious— Good morning, Mumbo,” He murmured. “You scared the living daylights out of me…” Grian set his mug down. “Also, it’s not early. It’s noon.”

Mumbo’s eyes widened. “Noon?!” He shouted. “You let me sleep in for that long?”

“You seemed tired. Long day yesterday..” Grian didn’t meet his eyes as he spoke. He himself looked tired, like he’d been up late.

That reminded him of something.

“I at least made you tea, I’m not a monster.” He set down a cup on the table, gesturing for the other to take a seat.

“Right… thank you,” Mumbo took a seat as instructed, taking a moment to breathe and calm himself. Just a bad sleep, was all. “Hey, you were in my dream last night..”

“Oh? Was I?” Grian asked with an aloof tone of voice, turning his back to focus on his own tea.

“Yeah. You… Well, it’s kinda weird,” Mumbo laughed quietly, sipping his tea. “I was in the Void or something, falling, and… and you looked like an angel. You had white wings and a purple ha—”

Crack.

Mumbo quickly turned his attention to the broken glass spewed across the kitchen counter, tea dripping onto the floor as Grian stood, frozen.

“I— whoops, it uh, it slipped,” Grian murmured after a moment. He seemed flustered, likely embarrassed by his mistake.

Mumbo knew Grian well. He didn’t see embarrassment written on the other’s face. No, he saw fear. He saw fear in the way his eyebrows knitted together slightly, and could see it in the way he tensed up.

He was so confused. Mumbo watched as Grian began to pick up the shattered glass, and he stood to grab a towel and made his way over. Grian held his wing up as if to shield himself. “I got it.”

“Grian, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Let me help.” Mumbo insisted, trying to make his way to the other side.

He was once again blocked by the other’s wing, putting a wall between himself and Mumbo. “I’ve got it.”

“Grian— why are you being weird? I’m— I’m trying to help,” Mumbo asked quietly.

“I’m not being weird!” Grian snapped at the other, turning to glare at his lover.

Mumbo wasn’t used to Grian yelling like that seriously— he heard that kind of ferocity when Scar was acting stupid or when he was falling off a cliff and couldn’t catch the wind in his wings. Very rarely was it ever directed towards him…

Mumbo was confused. The card. The die.

They looked… familiar. He’d seen them just last night (was it last night?) but he felt like he’d seen them somewhere else. Somewhere more recently..

Think…

He couldn’t picture it clearly, other than on Grian’s desk, but he could see it vaguely in green grass, blue skies… snail shells?

Ding. ‘I know what the wildcards are— I could help you for a price.’ Something like that…

Was that a dream or was that real?

He could picture the wildcard vividly on his desk— he could feel the smoothness of it, could see the glow of it illuminating the room. No, that had to have been real.

It was all hitting him now… He didn’t remember everything, but he remembered enough.

“Grian, I don’t know why you’re so upset, but… please. Just talk to me.” Mumbo asked quietly, stepping away from the other as he wiped up the tea. “I just want to know what’s going on with you..”

He saw guilt flash on Grian’s face for a flicker of a moment, gone within an instant as quick as it came. “There’s nothing bothering me— I just… am tired. That’s all.”

That set Mumbo off more than he would’ve liked to admit. It was starting to set in, now. Grian knew more than he was letting on. “Don’t lie to me— don’t. I know you, Grian—”

“Do you?” Grian asked suddenly, turning to glare at him again. “Do you know me, Mumbo?”

“Well clearly not!” He laughed in disbelief as he spoke. “I’m trying to find out what’s bothering you and you keep putting up walls— I don’t— I don’t understand, Grian— what— what do you need from me? What is it that’s preventing you from trusting me? Was it something I did?” Mumbo asked, desperation oozing from his voice.

Grian felt guilt again, rooting in his heart and spreading through his chest in an instant. Mumbo didn’t do anything, of course he didn’t! He’s Mumbo! But how could Grian explain this to him? How was he supposed to tell him about all the horrible things he’d done? He couldn’t! Mumbo was already getting too close to the answers— when he’d found him in his bedroom when he’d gotten back from his meeting with the council, he had gotten much too close. If he found out anymore…

“Grian…” Mumbo continued, holding his hands over his chest. “I… I just want to help you, I know… I know something is bothering you. I don’t… I don’t know what it is but I know you’re upset and you’re hurting and it kills me that I’m of no help to you… did— did I upset you with the memories question? Is it something else?”

Grian felt tears threaten to gloss his eyes, and he quickly blinked them away and turned his back to Mumbo. “I think you should go.”

If he listened closely, he could hear Mumbo’s heart breaking in his chest.

“You… You want me to go?”

Mumbo sounded so pathetic and it only served for more tears to pool in Grian’s eyes.

“…Fine.” The heartbroken tone could only last for so long, and it was quickly replaced by something much deeper, much more angry. “If you want to keep your secrets and your privacy then I will go. I will leave, Grian, since you want to be left alone so badly.”

“Mumbo, no— wait—”

“For what?! For you to be honest for once? Don’t you think I get sick of all the secrets, all the weird behavior when I mention random things? You act like I’m trying to interrogate you every time I try to help you out and I am so— so tired of being shut and locked out when I try to offer my sincerest of assistance!” Mumbo snapped at him. Grian turned to meet his eyes and saw the other with tears in his. He took a moment to pause, taking a shaky breath. “I love you. I would love you no matter what. So why on earth don’t you let me, Grian?”

“I’m not hiding anything, Mumbo..” Grian said weakly.

“I know you’re hiding something!! I’ve seen the card and the die and the writing— I know you have something to do with it, Grian!” He shouted, his tone only growing more and more agitated. “You are lying to me and I just want some answers! You know about it, don’t you?! And that’s why you won’t tell me!”

Grian felt the walls closing in on him. The guilt in his chest was quickly growing, rampant, taking up his heart and his lungs and his throat. It snuck down his limbs to freeze him in place, feet planted on the ground and his hands awkwardly held above his chest.

He tried to suck in a breath, unsuccessful.

His heart was racing— when it started he wasn’t sure, but it was going a million miles now, faster than light and sound but not faster than his thoughts— they were going somehow faster. None of them stayed long enough to root and turn into a full worry but the flurry of them had him nauseated.

Grian tried to take another breath, his chest tightening instead of expanding. Why wouldn’t his body listen?

He wanted to run, scream back at him, burst into tears, fade into nothingness. All he wanted was to disappear. He didn’t deserve to be here, didn’t deserve this nice domestic life. He was a monster. A disgusting, deplorable creature who’d betrayed his kind and fallen from a grace he never even achieved in the first place. He failed his friends, his lover, his council. Mumbo was going to leave him— he was going to leave him and he’d be left alone.

He deserved this. Didn’t he?

Another breath. Another failure. It sounded more like a wheeze now, tight and full of struggle. Dizziness was at the forefront of his mind. He felt like he was dying.

He couldn’t help the tears in his eyes finally spilling over like a flood over a dam, breaking down into pathetic sobs as he tried to hold himself together. It was like taping broken glass together; flimsy, unstable, and unable to hold whatever was inside. Grian felt so feeble. How was he supposed to compare to the rest of his council when he crumbled at the mere thought of being found out?

Mumbo wasn’t stupid, he saw the pain and panic in his lover’s eyes and the way he froze up. The shaky breaths getting shallower had him concerned, but he didn’t move until Grian had broken down into tears and all but sunk into himself. That had him at his feet and rushing over to the other. Mad and upset as he was, he probably shouldn’t have yelled at him— that got them nowhere all the time! But he couldn’t remember a time he’d snapped at him and gotten this reaction.

Grian wasn’t fragile or easily breakable, he stood firm on his feelings and didn’t let himself be moved too much. Stubborn in every aspect of his life. To be seeing this… it had to be something bad. Mumbo felt his own guilt looming over him, resting on his shoulders and weighing him down.

“Grian— Hey, Grian, look at me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.” He said quietly, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek only for it to be smacked away. Okay, no touch then. His gut instinct was to pull his body into his own, but if he wouldn’t let him touch his face then everywhere else was a definite no.

“Just—Just leave me— alone!” Grian stammered out, his voice shaky and dampened with sobs. Mumbo could see his hands gripping onto his sleeves, nails digging into the skin through the fabric, scratching tearing clawing.

“No, I won’t be doing that.” Mumbo knew Grian would be mad at him but damnit he didn’t care. He wouldn’t let the other hurt himself, even by accident. He grabbed his wrists gently, and instead of Grian swatting him away he just accepted defeat.

“I need you to breathe for me, Grian.” Mumbo murmured, taking Grian’s hands into his own and squeezing ever so gently.

“I can’t— I can’t, Mumbo— I can’t breathe—” Grian stammered out, trying to regulate his breathing on his own. Everything was short and choppy and it burned his chest and it all was making him dizzy and he thought he’d be suffocating on his own guilt in a few minutes.

“I know, I know, but listen to me, Grian. You’re okay. I know you don’t feel like it but you’re okay, you just need to calm down..” Mumbo said quietly.

What had to be this bad that Grian was having a panic attack over it?

Mumbo knew all Grian wanted was to be left alone and he felt bad for keeping him in place, but he wasn’t about to let him divulge in his paranoia and panic-driven tendencies. It usually wasn’t this bad, where he couldn’t breathe at all— fuck, he’d really upset him this time, hadn’t he?

Grian shut his eyes tightly, squeezing them for some form of pressure in hopes to redirect his body’s stream of focus. He was here, he knew this— he was on his spruce planks, in his base— if he looked out he could see his dock and see Gem’s skull looming over. He was here. His mind was still stuck in his council’s room, being watched like a hawk, feeling so small and insignificant and scared.

He held his arms out and Mumbo almost instantly let go of his hands and hugged him, squeezing him deep just like he knew he needed right now. He didn’t flinch when Grian sobbed into his shoulder, when his hands squeezed at his shirt fabric and bunched it together and no doubt wrinkled it, when he heaved and squeezed at Mumbo to get the same pressure in return. Mumbo just let him regulate, and if he could be of any help, then he’d do anything in the moment to be that.

“Just breathe— you’re okay. You’re okay..” Mumbo murmured after a few minutes, rubbing slow circles into his back. He finally felt Grian take a full breath and exhale it out, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t completely relieved. “Just like that… here,” He took his hand and pressed it gently to his chest, right above his heart. “Just breathe with me, alright?”

He felt Grian nod and he took a few breaths, only keeping the cycle going when he felt Grian reciprocate. It took a few minutes of that before the other pulled back, eyes red and tired and his face red.

Grian hated his stupid panic attacks, but the shame that followed always left him feeling so small, like a child. Having them alone was one thing, having them in front of someone else always left this humiliation set in his bones. He felt stupid, letting his emotions get the better of him and have this kind of effect on him. He was a fucking grown man and he was breaking down like a child.

“Grian,” Mumbo murmured, his voice quiet and barely audible. He offered an empathetic glance, full of understanding and compassion and it made Grian even sicker than he felt before. “Let’s… take a seat.”

Grian plopped himself on the kitchen floor, and Mumbo faltered for a moment before he did the same, legs crossed.

“I… I am s—”

“No, stop— don’t.. don’t give me that.” Grian said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That’s not productive.” Mumbo murmured. He looked guilty, and Grian’s heart contorted in his chest.

“..You wouldn’t have snapped at me if I was honest with you.” Grian shot back, and the look on Mumbo’s face told him he agreed, but he was too polite to say so. “…I’m— I’m sorry, Mumbo. For… keeping so much from you.”

“…I’m sure you had your reasons,” Mumbo started, and Grian nodded along as he spoke. “But— I just… I’m confused. I’m so confused and I know that you know something.” He said quietly. He sounded hurt, almost wounded. “…Why did you have a wildcard?”

The way Grian tensed up and looked away told Mumbo that he was dead on with his guess. “Mumbo,” He murmured, letting out a weak laugh. “If I told you, it… it would change your view on me. You would hate me, Mumbo.”

“Grian…” Mumbo reached for his hand. “I would never hate you. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again and again… I love you. And nothing will ever change that.”

Grian was bordering on tears again, because he knew that Mumbo was lying. He didn’t know it himself, but he was lying. When Grian told him… he would leave. He’d be alone.

Mumbo deserved better. He deserved the truth. So what if he’d likely be left alone for the rest of his feeble existence? Mumbo deserved somebody honest, and if he left, then that was what Grian deserved.

His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline was racing back through his veins but his body was too tired to turn it into panic again. He gave Mumbo’s hand a hesitant squeeze.

A part of him wanted to ask him to promise him that, that he would love him no matter what. He didn’t.

“…Okay,” Grian sighed. There was no way out of this now. “…ask me your questions. I will be honest.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure what he expected— maybe an explanation of some kind, but not that. He didn’t have any problems with it though.

“…Why did you have a wildcard on your desk?” He asked.

“I made it.” Grian said plainly. “It was my job to make the wildcards.”

“Did anyone else have a job like that?”

“No… just me.”

Mumbo nodded. “Who’s organizing these games?”

Grian hesitated for a moment. “..The Watchers.”

“The— The what?” Mumbo asked, disbelieving.

“They, um… they ensure servers and worlds run smoothly…” Grian explained. “You remember how you asked me if there were creators out there? Well, that’s the closest you’ll get to it.”

Mumbo nodded along, processing the information. “I—I know that. I… I just, why would they want anything to do with that?” He asked quietly. “Aren’t they supposed to… maintain the worlds and stuff? Why would they organize this? Why would they have you help?”

Grian bit his lip. This was the question he was dreading. If he lied and pulled it off he could change the course of his future— maybe he could keep up this facade he had and continue to maintain this semi-normal life.

No. Mumbo deserved to know…

“…Because I’m a Watcher.”

It didn’t hit him immediately, taking a good ten or twenty seconds for the information to successfully reach Mumbo’s brain, and the look of confusion and disorientation on his face was plain as day. Grian felt his heart rate increasing again as Mumbo stared at him, silent.

Would Grian lie about this? Why would he lie about this in the first place? He didn’t have anything to truly gain from lying about this. But how was he supposed to just… believe that the man he’d known for so long was this godly overseer? He’d been keeping this secret for how many years and he hadn’t found out yet?

“…Are you— Are you serious, Grian?” He asked.

Grian didn’t meet his eyes, desperate to not let the other see his tears. He nodded.

Mumbo was quiet for another long moment, each passing second sending Grian closer and closer to hysteria.

“Does that mean you organized the games?”

The question had caught him off guard, and he finally looked up to meet Mumbo’s eyes. The look of horror, betrayal, he saw in him would be stitched into his soul.

“..Mumbo— Mumbo, I didn’t— I didn’t want to!” He stammered out, blinking away his own tears. “You think I wanted to do this? Any of this?!”

“I don’t know— I’m trying to figure out this all out! You’ve been hiding that for so long, it’s— it’s a shock, Grian!” Mumbo defended. “Did you or did you not organize the games?”

This was it. Surely this was the end. Mumbo would hate him forever and he’d leave. He would be alone.

“..I did as I was told, Mumbo. I brought my own terms to cause the least amount of pain…”

He saw tears in Mumbo’s eyes as he tried to cope with what he was told, searching for some kind of answer but coming up empty handed.

“..Why? Why did they— Why did they make you do it? They have no reason to… do this.” Mumbo murmured, mostly to himself.

“Because the beliefs you're spoonfed about them are lies.” Grian said, his wings curling in further on him. “The reason they wanted me to do that was because they needed a food source. They feed on human emotions. They prefer the negative ones— the anger, sadness, anxiety… they say they taste sweeter.”

Mumbo laughed in disbelief again, shaking his head. “…They feed on us…” He mumbled, glancing up at Grian again to see the other looking away, looking ashamed and disgusted and embarrassed and upset all at once. “…Do you?”

“No— No, I don’t… I don’t. I don’t get anything from emotions.” Grian explained. “They feed on me too.”

“…Oh.” Mumbo glanced back down. He felt his entire world view shifting in the blink of an eye. He… did understand why Grian kept this from him, and in hindsight he was right to because Mumbo did not know how to cope with his boyfriend being akin to a deity. What did that mean for him? Did that change his relationship to Mumbo in anyway now that it was out in the open between the two of them? Watchers were very much heard of and not seen, so how come Grian was just here?

“So— how are you here? Aren’t Watchers supposed to.. stay away and, y’know, watch?” Mumbo asked.

“Well… that was the plan. But I couldn’t stay away.” Grian shrugged a bit as he spoke. It was all a little blurry, how things went down.

Mumbo seemed to take the answer, nodding. “So how did you… become a Watcher? Did you… like, is it a birth thing or is it something else?”

“Well… during Evo, we were going through the updates and one day they just… took me.” He mumbled. “Everyone else kept going, but they wanted me, for some reason. I don’t know why— maybe they thought I had potential or something, but… yeah. I clearly didn’t.” He laughed weakly. As if any of this was funny.

“So… you were normal before that?” Mumbo murmured.

“Mhm.” Grian nodded. “Normal human before all that… then they made me one of them.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I got wings out of it though.”

He blinked. “Wait— you didn’t have wings initially?” Mumbo asked.

“Nope— these were given to me.” Grian outstretched his wings for example. “They’re supposed to be white but they were boring and I hated looking at them, so I changed them for when I’m in ‘disguise’ I guess you could call it. I don’t consider it a disguise, since… it’s just me before I was turned into one of them.”

“…White wings.. was that— was that not a dream then? In the void, when—”

“No. Not a dream.” Grian confirmed. “I’m surprised you remember that— that’s… why I freaked out.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Oh.” Mumbo glanced back up at him. “You thought they were boring?”

“Well— I just hated to look at them. Everything about being like that just… makes me hate myself. I hate seeing myself like that.” He murmured. “Changing them was for my own sanity, in part.”

“I thought you looked absolutely beautiful.”

Grian’s face was bright red in an instant— from getting yelled at for hiding secrets to now being told he looked beautiful was a turn he did not expect the conversation to take. “Mumbo, you always think I’m pretty.” He dismissed the thought in an instant.

“…I’m serious. You… you looked ethereal,” Mumbo admitted with a soft laugh, his own face red. “I mean what I say, Grian— have you forgotten that?”

“I suppose I haven’t.” He smiled weakly at the other. They stayed like that for a few minutes, silent in each other’s presence and staring at the floor beneath them. Grian didn’t feel the same tension he did before, but the air was still thick and fogged with a question in the air.

“…Do you hate me?” Grian asked suddenly.

“What?” Mumbo seemed to snap from a trance, blinking a few times as he processed the question. “…Do I hate you?”

Grian nodded. Silent.

“…I don’t hate you, Grian, that’s silly. Am I… beyond confused and feel like my head is spinning? Absolutely.” Mumbo admitted with a quiet laugh. “No. I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re awful or horrible either.” He tacked on, just in case. “…I meant what I said. I’d love you no matter what. And this… this doesn’t change that.”

Grian felt a weight being lifted from his chest and tears were instant in the corners of his eyes. “You—You’re sure? Mumbo, if you wanted to leave I would understand. It’s not everyday your boyfriend comes out to you and tells you they’re being forced to organize all this stuff and were turned into a divine being..”

“I know. And that’s… It's a lot. I’ll admit.” He nodded. “But I don’t think it’s your fault— I mean, you were taken by force and now you’re doing this out of… survival. With as little damage possible. Right?” He wasn’t sure he had the story right completely (it was a lot to take in at once), and he only continued when Grian nodded. “…Then I don’t see any reason to leave. You’re doing what you can, and.. I understand why you had to keep it a secret. Is now a good time to apologize for being so nosy?”

Grian couldn’t help his laughter, shaking his head. “I get it— if I saw the same things I’d be going crazy. I guess I’m surprised I kept it for so long… I just always thought that, once you found out you’d think I was a monster.”

“No— absolutely none of that.” Mumbo shuffled forward a bit on his knees, cupping Grian’s face in his hands. “You’re the same Grian that I fell in love with. Just… with added lore, I guess.”

Tears spilled over before he could register them, and they were quickly wiped away by Mumbo’s thumbs. He was shaking again, trying desperately to hold back his sobs as he crumbled into Mumbo’s hands. Grian was pulled into a warm embrace, Mumbo’s arms squeezing him tightly for a few moments. He held him just as tight in return.

He leaned up after a few moments of silence to press a kiss to Mumbo’s lips, earning a smile from the other as he was squeezed again. Burying his face in the other’s shoulder, he breathed out a sigh of relief. He was really stupid to think that Mumbo would leave him. Even with all the suspicion, confession, horror, he was here.

He was here.