Chapter Text
Fulham shoved away his annoyance as a familiar instinct overtook Fulham — that constant yanking toward a familiar, sleepless person. What wasn’t familiar was the person it was pulling him desperately towards.
Fulham pulled out his communicator, hands trembling as he typed a short message: What are you doing?
No reply came. Exasperated, he shot off a short message to Couriway, pulled off his jacket and left it haphazardly strewn in a peach-coloured pile on his carpet. He left the house, not waiting for the door to slam shut behind him. It was a cool night, but that didn’t bother Fulham. His heart was pumping so fast he could hear it in his ears.
He shook out his wings; their wirey, bony frames were fragile in the daylight, but almost seemed to glisten under the moonlight. The blue membrane between them was thin and translucent, yet seemed to solidify in the night.
He took flight, making it to the portal in less than half the time it would have taken him to travel there by foot.
The portal swirled mesmerisingly in front of him. Fulham didn't pause to admire it though, throwing himself into the portal with the sort of reckless abandon only out-of-control hybrid instincts could cause.
The hunger was stronger now. Fulham pushed it to the side. He wasn’t going to feed tonight. He was only going to help.
The portal spat him out into a Reset Wall. Fulham didn't hesitate to pick which world to check; it seemed as obvious as a flashing neon sign.
He fell into a plains biome. A figure stood solitary and silent and shaking. Despite the darkness of the night cycle, Fulham recognised the silhouette.
“Feinberg?” Fulham called out. There was no response. Fulham stepped closer.
“Feinberg?” he tried again. At first, there was no reaction, until Feinberg turned to face Fulham.
“How long have you been running?” Fulham asked, allowing his concern – borderline desperation – to filter into his voice. “If I'm here, it has to have been at least three nights. Feinberg didn’t know the details of Fulham’s hybrid traits, but he definitely knew that. He was intelligent enough to work it out even if Fulham had never told him personally.
Feinberg shrugged. Fulham tried to feel relief at the reaction. He couldn't bring himself to, not while hunger pulled on his limbs and drowned his mind in blood.
“Where's Couri been?”
Feinberg appeared upset at this line of questioning. “He left.”
Fulham rolled his eyes. “So, instead of dealing with it like a normal person and calling him , you decided to run AA until you collapse?”
Feinberg just stared at him uncomprehendingly. His eyes were bloodshot and wild. The dark circles below them almost covered half his face. Fulham resisted the growing urge to attack, to claw the tiredness from Fein’s eyes and end the constant pressure that was building up in his head.
He didn’t, of course, but the desire was there. It was ever-present. Fulham hated it.
“You need to sleep, Fein,” Fulham pleaded.
“I can't ,” Feinberg said, the desperation in his voice unlike any Fulham had ever heard from him. “I need to finish this. I'm so close. This could be the run.”
Judging from the timer, this would very much not be the run. All that comment did was increase Fulham's concern.
“You can finish it tomorrow,” Fulham said firmly. This was almost certainly an All Advancements run, and judging by the timer it was way off the pace.
Feinberg frowned. “But what if someone takes the record from me?”
Fulham held back a laugh. Feinberg barely reacted, his eyelids drooping so heavily he was almost asleep where he was standing. “No one is going to take your record. Definitely not in the few hours you're going to sleep for when I get you home.”
Fulham closed the gap between them, grabbing Feinberg’s shoulder firmly. He didn't even seem to notice, instead focused on the AA Tracker in his hands. Fein still needed a snowy and a mushroom island from what Fulham could see, and adding that to the endgame, he wasn't sure Feinberg would make it without passing out mid-elytra flight and crashing into the ground, subsequently dying.
“Let's get you to Couri, alright?”
Feinberg mumbled something vague under his breath. Fulham didn’t even try to decode it.
Switching back to HBG's main world, Fulham flipped open his communicator with one hand, the other wrapped around Feinberg's shoulder in an attempt to keep him upright. He was still clinging to his trident for some reason. Fulham didn't understand this man sometimes.
Couriway picked up on the first ring. “Where are you? Did you find him?” His voice was audibly concerned, borderline fearful.
“Yeah, are you at your house? I can teleport over, I honestly think it might be needed.” They didn't use the command much, excluding emergencies. In Fulham's opinion: this counted. He didn’t want to drag a half-conscious Feinberg five hundred blocks, and he doubted Couriway wanted to either.
“I am, yes,” Couriway confirmed swiftly. “I'll teleport you two.”
Fulham braced himself, arm still wrapped around the near-catatonic Feinberg. The scene around him warped, his vision twisting and blurring. The sensation was over almost as soon as it had begun.
Fulham felt his arm slip from Feinberg’s shoulder, his grip loosened by the cross-world travel. Fulham spun, panicked, trying to stop Feinberg from hitting the ground, but Couriway made it first.
He almost dived, catching Feinberg right before he hit the ground. The trident fell from Fein's fingers, hitting the ground with a harsh clang.
Fulham stepped back, distancing himself from the pair. The smile on Feinberg's face was almost blinding as he stared into Couriway's eyes, and Couriway gazed right back, the two of them so engrossed in the other Fulham might as well not be there.
Fulham coughed. Couriway finally seemed to notice his presence.
“Thank you, Fulham,” he said, pulling Feinberg off the ground. “I'll see you tomorrow after this stupid guy gets some sleep.”
Fulham nodded, his eyes still locked on Fein. The urge to follow burned within him, but it was ignorable – especially now that Fulham knew it would soon cease.
Fulham delicately folded his wings away and walked east towards the rising sun.