Work Text:
False wakes up to a present planted outside her house. Well…present was a generous word, it didn’t have the trimmings of wrapping paper or bows— it was a rather simple thing, a barrel. But in this early game it’s more practical than the theatrical little boxes hermits usually put their silly gifts in (although, False could stand to get some wool for her build plans; and a bed, she needs a bed).
The items plop into her inventory as she scoops the barrel up. It’s an odd bunch of things. Baked potatoes, torches, a book and a rose bush. She inspects each item in her hand to figure out what it means— and which hermit it’s from. It should be obvious, but False doesn’t want to bluntly assume, that would be rude of her. She flashes to a notebook, flickering through the pages to read the message left behind for her.
It’s from Ren, and False bites back a smile. It was very considerate of him, he was always like that— spoiling his friends with gifts. He writes something about welcoming her to their next season, and explains away the gifts and mostly about how excited he is to be her neighbour this season. Falses eyes flicker towards the Rose bush, she puts the book note down and fiddles with its stem— careful not to prick herself on the thorns.
It has another note tied around its bunch— ‘from spawn’ it reads; and False can’t help but note how odd it is. They’d settled in a flower forest biome littered with them and he’d gotten her one from spawn?
What a strange thing to do. To think of. What a strange fella her neighbour was. Thoughtful but strange.
She peaks her head over the cliff side, just to be a bit nosy of his progress so far and spots a small cottage just across the river and a full garden of ripened potatoes. That wasn't there yesterday and False flushes in embarrassment at how little she’s gotten done despite being here before him. He must have stayed up all night to finish it.
No wonder he gave her the gift, he was probably pitying her lack of progress.
——-
Their bases aren’t even next to each other anymore—well, their starter ones are. After a couple of season breaks Ren’s decided (read here: doomed) to be her neighbour again. But their actual main season projects are quite far away from each other, so there’s no reason for them to hang out based on proximity as they did earlier on in the season.
Does False miss this? No, of course not. False doesn’t miss Ren's silly pranks and antics— he stole her flowers, and then pranked her with more flowers. Isn’t that ridiculous? She’s good to be rid of that madness.
But his pie shop is not too far away from spawn and for more often than she’d care to admit she finds herself busying away in a corner booth of his restaurant. False forgets she’s even there half the time, it's only when she falls asleep and is being poked awake by a curious hermit (usually Pearl) that she realises that everyone just assumes that's where she’d be. If not at her base, then his, and if not that then she’s somewhere together with him— pranking, twaddling or just working in each other's company. Ren doesn’t even notice she’s there half the time (Not that she’s complaining). But everyone else does. Everyone else notices the dim lights of Giga pies that are always left on way into the evening.
Ren in the kitchen, rolling dough, pipping filling and burning his pies, whilst she sketches our schematics for her next extension to her mega base. He brings her tea sometimes, when he’s not so caught up in the chaos of beeping kitchen appliances and smoking ovens. False thinks he may as well shut down and just start brewing tea for a business. It’s a better plan than whatever this is, and Ren laughs at that. Both of their eyes are tired— occasionally both of them will fall asleep at the table.
(Until a smoke alarm blares and she gets cranky and Rens frantically thrashing around a tea towel to fan off the smoke and he gathers her materials and does the intelligent thing and actually goes to sleep in her bed) (Never mind the bafflingly upset look on Ren's face when she leaves) (and how that almost convinces her to stay).
False isn’t even that fond of pie, not even fond of Giga-pies— and certainly not the burnt ones. She despised them when they were mandated. Resisted it, resisted him, King Ren, and all his economic schemes. Had she more courage she would have killed him and gotten away with it. She would have gotten away with it. That’s what Cleo said at least and they were usually annoyingly right. Ren would have sacrificed his grand lore for one of Falses childish whims; she’s his exception to his favourite pastime (or she is his favourite pastime).
It’s annoying and amusing and so she abstains for his fun. She still plots, resists against him, but the blade strapped in her belt is dull and useless. Unfit to kill and it’s more of an inside joke than a threat.
At least, they laugh at it like it is— Ren will annoy her and her hand will crawl close to the handle, and he’ll let out one of those exasperated chuckles. It becomes so much of a thing, such an instinctual light hearted threat between friends, that she doesn’t realise how bizarre they must look until Ren bursts out laughing in one of the server meetings.
The hermits turn to face them, eyebrows raised and mouths agape with confusion— but as quick as they glance their attention runs back to Xisuma’s agenda like whatever they’re doing is benign and normal.
Some part of her is grateful they weren’t too disturbing, but the other part is frustrated at how easily they seem to write their shenanigans off. As if there is nothing more normal for False and Ren to be doing than laughing with mischief than paying attention to their servers steward.
She whines to Cleo about it but all they do is shrug it off like everyone else shrugs it off because it’s not even a problem. She’s right, it’s not. They’re just neighbours being silly— lots of hermits are like that.
She’s sitting in Giga pies sketching out another design to furnish an interior. Ren makes an effort to turn off all the ovens, make sure nothings cooking; nothing can cook, when he slides in next to her hands clasped together as he peers over her shoulder.
“Whatcha drawing False?” He says, close enough that his breath makes her shiver.
She shuffles into her seat, glancing up at his grinning face. “Just some base plans, gotta start decorating.”
“That’s a nice design.” He points to her current pile of doodles in the corner of her page and smirks. It’s just flowers and scribbles of frustration to herself. Falses face flushes in guilty embarrassment.
“I’m in a bit of a creative block. It’s hard to work on the same base for this long. I think after the last few seasons…”
“It’s different.” He nods. Season seven was long, and season eight was short and now season nine was recovering from both of them. “If you want I’m working on a project with Etho— we could use some of your brilliant designer skills, if you want a break from your base?”
He pauses. “Sometimes you just need the cold to get the brain juices flowing.”
It’s hard to say no to that.
And that’s how she ends up zipping off with Ren to the ice spikes biome on the other side of the server. Shovelling snow and ice and decorating the course so it looks nicer. The three of them work fairly harmoniously, they all work quietly to themselves, False and Etho passing chide remarks until Ren decides he’s had enough of his own silence and checks in on each of them.
She’s crafting red dye, from flowers Ren stole from her when he sneaks up behind her. They talk a little, banter and bicker over the flowers until Ren notices how she’s shivering and practically shoves her over to the rest area near all their scrambled chest monsters. She almost protests, but she is actually quite freezing and her hands are getting a bit numb from picking off petals to crush into dye.
“Remember to take a break if you’re getting cold Falsie, there’s a fire in the cabin!” Ren says overhead shooting off to fix something off the course.
She shuffles off the course and onto a bench on the sidelines. Admittedly she is a bit frazzled from the cold. She rubs her arms and legs riddled with goose bumps and frosty slush. She should have bought a better jacket. Now she looks unprepared and foolish. How could she be so unaware that Ren's offer to work on a ice boat course would mean she would be in the cold? It’s his fault really, he’s the one who gave her such a spontaneous offer. It’s always his fault.
“What was that about ?” Etho rolls his eyes as he shakes an inventory of snow into a discarded chest . “The favouritism in this place— I’ve been working for three hours straight !”
“You have a fur jacket.” She jabs back, only shivering a little less than before.
Etho dusts off his iced coat with a shrug. “Just ask Ren, I’m sure he’s got one for you.”
What in the postulation. Etho hauls a shulker of redstone over his shoulders and walks back towards the boat. False scampers after him, arms swinging around with jagged movements of confusion trying to catch him.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
Etho turns around, smirks. “Ren‘s like your own personal Bdubs… But way nicer and less of a tight ass.”
“What do you—“
There’s a whoosh and plip of fireworks exploding ahead as Ren sticks a landing. He rushes over to them and absently throws an arm over her shoulder. He’s looking at Etho, acknowledging Etho even— he waves at him.
“How’s it going Etho?”
“Good.” He shrugs, deadpan. “Just a little cold.”
He nods “it is getting chilly out here my dudes.”
And then Ren's eyes are right back on her, wholly focused. He tilts his glasses a bit.
“Hey Falsie? Did you go into the cabin yet? Did you see the kitchen— there’s hot water if you need a beverage of some kind, I can make you tea—“
Etho raises a singular eyebrow, knowingly, and crosses his arms over one another as he steps into his test boat. False shrivels, brushing Ren’s arm away. It’s too normal for them, second nature for him— the cold must be eating his brain cells.
“Ren, I'm fine.” She frowns, muttering as she leans down to open a chest of decorative blocks, and shovels. “I can take care of myself.”
“You’re really helping me out here Falsie. Helping you is the least I can do.” He smiles, sweetly, obliviously.
Doesn’t he know the way he’s acting ? Doesn’t he know that the hermits know he’s her favourite ? His exception, his focus? Doesn’t he know that everyone still pairs them up mentally, that they’re always one unit? Even if they don’t say it as obviously as Etho.
Just a few weeks ago Xisuma had given False a care package to deliver to Ren with a few notes from the meeting he’d missed when he’d gotten a cold. Because he knew; or at least assumed he’d want to see her first. Just like X assumes False already knew he was sick when he hands it to her without a word really.
She didn’t mind looking out for him, taking care of him, she liked returning the favour because he’ll always do the same, has done the same. Is doing the same thing even now as he blinks down at her with curious eyes and foggy glasses. But it's strange to her that he doesn’t seem to notice, that people just assume that’s what they’re like, that’s what they are. Whatever the ‘are’ is.
“…Alright, I’m going to fix the redstone on the track.”
Ren nods and waves Etho off again and False gawks.
There wasn’t even major redstone on the raceway—
And all of it had been tested and retested before she’s even started on the project what could he possibly—
Etho shrugs his coat half off his shoulders teasingly as he grabs an oar and False sighs rubbing her temple with embarrassment. She was still cold, even though Ren was standing exceptionally close to her and he was always running like a furnace.
“Do you have any extra coats Ren ?”
He claps his hands together. “Oh of course! I can’t believe I forgot about that, the colds making me a little dense in the head— we have a whole closet at the back.” He grabs her hand to lead her inside and they scuffle their ice slush boots off the welcome mat. False keeps on looking down, trying to hide the flush that’s crept onto her cheeks. But she can just blame that on the cold right? It’s the conditions obviously, and not wearing enough layers— she must be having a hyperthermic reaction. She better get that coat on.
Ren jams open a closet, and flicks through an array of coats, fur trimmed and woolen lined in different shades of deep colours.
“Blue is your favourite colour right?
“Yes.” Not that it matters. False could put on any colour of coat and not care, she just wanted to be warm.
He reaches towards the back and takes out one that doesn’t match the rest. It’s a bright blue, an azure blue and it’s definitely tailored to fit her. He holds it up and normally she might protest the help but she’s cold and slips into it without a second thought, buttoning it up right away.
“I got Cleo to make each of the hermits one for when we race.”
Her eyes dart back into the rest of the closet, she’s not going crazy, they’re all darker colours, this one’s different. It’s a special coat, it’s a custom coat, out of all the custom coats of course he got her an extra special custom coat. Falses head spins. How is she supposed to explain this, excuse this. No wonder Etho was complaining so much.
Her face flushes in embarrassment and again she blames it on the sudden change of temperature. She buttons the coat up and Ren flicks the hood over her head and giggles.
“Do you like it? We’re matching— all three of us.”
False rubs her cheek, the cold is making her lose her brain cells. Her creativity in taunts is all but lost when she parrots him. “Yeah, we’re matching.”
——-
They’re not next door to each other exactly— maybe more so than their starters last season. But still, the closest hermit she’s near is Beef— Cleo, maybe? And it’s sensible of her really, perhaps the best decision of the season so far; she deserves a standing ovation for this choice her past self made (though, the true credit lies in everyone claiming land before her, but what are details for?) Proximity to Ren is never a good thing; the whole server only has a handful of brain cells and False likes to think she’s a responsible guardian of one or two of them. Until Ren says something stupid and she tosses them out the window— because she just has to interject or prod or tease or bicker with him (whatever the situation calls for).
It’s undeniably fun; but it does make for rather awful content— the number of hours she’s spent twadling with Ren runs laps around collective productiveness they can show for it.
She doesn’t mind it in the end, because she enjoys his company and he enjoys hers; but there is something scientifically, cosmically confusing about it. Neither of them are particularly bad at sticking their heads down and doing work separately, they’re better at being smart by themselves — but Ren's presence seems to have a visceral effect on her body. Wait. No. That’s— no. No, Ren has more of an effect on her brain. Like he can make her think less, regressing her overly analytical brain into one of instinct. It’s probably because she has to look out for him so much, save him from his own doom of creeper explosions and other such dangerous surroundings on the Hermitcraft server.
Ren is no damsel, but he sure can act like one, throwing himself behind False or into her at the sighting of something scary. It’s a habit she’s managed to copy when she gets skittish— after demise especially. Her hands will brush his shoulders, pushing Ren instead into the firing range. He takes it like a valiant knight, and she can tell there is a part of him that enjoys it; the theatrics, the glory, the getting to sweep a girl off her— oh void no. He’s not— it’s not. They’re not…
Rens’ not interested in her like that. He’s got Martyn, Doc and all the ladies in line. False is an exception, but she doesn’t get to break the rules (What rules they are she doesn’t know) she’s not the one he wants like that. Which is a good thing; that could ruin everything, change everything, mean everything.
And False and Ren are beyond that, beyond petty romances. If he liked her like that it’d be obvious. Ren’s always obvious— he’s confident, daring and flirty— she’s seen it (unfortunately). And if she liked him like that, well she supposed she’d know it herself. And False doesn’t know. So it means she doesn’t like him, and he doesn’t like her and it’s all okay. It’s all normal.
She palms the multipass from her inventory and fidgets with the buttons. He's always giving her these things. But that’s what neighbours do right? They give each other presents and work on each others projects and best of all prank each other. In fact that’s exactly what she should do. False needs to prank Ren, it’s been too long without one.
——
The neighbourhood is quiet. It’s not like it’s always obnoxiously loud— but the last few months her Ren and Cleo have practically been in their own little corner of the server in mini prank wars and messing around with armour stands, resin. But then Ren and Cleo have to go play a big prank on the Poe Poe because of course they do, and then she’s alone. All alone.
And they’re not even here for her to whine to, there’s nobody she can tell off, except her armour stands and the space rats in Rens base. They’re good company for awhile, but then actual weeks pass and she starts getting antsy, bored.
She’s tired of being the only one who has to deal with her own insanity, she misses having actual conversations, or at least having someone who will ‘yes-and’ her. Void, she’s starting to sound like Ren, but it’s true. She misses twaddling with her friends.
Word gets around that Cleos coming back by horseback through the nether roof. It’s a terrifying feat, and utterly on book for them; but False can’t help but wonder in a small pang of her heart why the others weren’t doing the same, why Ren wasn’t riding back as well?
There are obvious answers ( He has other things to do, he’ll probably just get sent back again as soon as they arrive, Cleo has the particular will power for this that Ren doesn’t). And there are more unclear motives (Does he just want a break from her? Is he bored of their antics? (Is he sick of being neighbours?)
False weathers a path into existence from her anxious contemplative pacing. But before she knows it Cleo's back and they’re having dinner together again. Fish is on the menu— a False special from big business. She’s gone and pulled out all her pretty decorations, the fine china and they’re throwing it in Ren's base because then he has to clean up all the balloons and streamers when he gets back.
It’s a special occasion— it marks not being alone again. False doesn’t really hug people, or even look them in the eyes most of the time, but she listens and shoves Cleos shoulder to tease her and void it’s good to have this back, a friend back.
“You know your cooking is surprisingly not bad.” Cleo says, raising a fork of salmon to her mouth.”
“Of course it is, it’s a Big Business recipe, you don’t have that out in exile. Only stinky fish.”
“A lot of stinky fish— Ren and Jev started worshiping a Salmon head. And it’s rank.”
“Glad I’ll never have to smell that.” She nearly gags at the thought.
Cleo cackles. “You know Ren made fish for us, one of the first nights we were in exile.”
“Mhmmm was it bad?”
“Terrible.”
False snorts fondly. “He’s always been awful at cooking fish. He was bad at cooking pies too.”
“Maybe he’s just bad at cooking.”
“It’s mostly the oven part. Can't leave a fire unattended with Rendog, he’ll burn the whole place down.”
“I think he’s especially cautious with his new base— he named it after you.”
“What ?”
“Yeah, he called his boat the Symmetria— couldn’t even get away from you in exile.”
“Why would he name a boat after me?”
“Beats me Falsie.” They smirk tauntingly. “Wouldn’t have a clue.”
False rolls her eyes and Cleo smartly drops the topic, lest False re-exile them. Instead they spend the rest of the evening plotting, because it’s hardly a Hermitcraft season if False isn’t pranking some authority, and it’s hardly a Hermitcraft season without her neighbours and friends.
——-
If she’s actually trying to not get exiled it doesn’t show in the footage. False teases, prods the Poe Poe and is stabbed twice in the back by Grian in retaliation. She spawns alone in Exile, and after a small tour from a visiting Cleo she finds herself wandering around the dainty paths, a little skittish. Practically the whole bay of islands were trapped, but there were a few places where it’s not; or where it’s already been trapped that there’s no point in doing anything more.
False shuffles around the piles of anvils on the Symmetria. How the boat hadn’t sunk entirely is a miracle of its own. She fidgets with a few of the sails and rummages through the barrels on deck to see if he’s got anything valuable to steal. But it’s nothing but dead fish, that really does smell rank. Slowly she pushes from the hull of the ship to the cabin. Her hands trace over the written sign, and it’s hard to believe that it’s real. It’s actually called the Symmetria. What a crazy man Ren was.
She knows she missed him, it’d be an outright lie to say she didn’t miss her neighbours, but this was another level of crazy. And it makes her wonder why he didn’t just go with Cleo… why he’s left her behind.
At least she’s not going to avoid him here, but it’s also dark out and she should probably find somewhere to base properly before it becomes a problem. And she doesn’t want to bother Ren, not yet anyways.
‘I’m home’ False types absentmindedly onto the Symmetria sign before backspacing her words. She’s not home, she’s thirty million blocks away sneaking around on a river boat namesake.
What is the right word for it? The right way to phrase it... ‘I got exiled ?’ ‘I’m here to rescue you ?’ (She’s not— that’s the truth).
She pauses for a moment, letting the sign rest in her hands, unedited. The HMS Symmetria. What a silly name.
‘I’ve come to take back my name -False’ the sign clicks as she rests it back on its hanging spot. And it might have been the quietest noise she made while shuffling around the boat, but it’s the closest to the living quarters.
A light flickers from inside the boat, there’s shuffling, and if she actually had an elytra she would have shot off immediately out of fright. Instead her flighty reflexes are glued to the planks of his bobbing boat, as a silhouette cranks open the cabin door.
A flash of confusion, surprise, excitement and warmth flush over Rens face. And then, maybe in tired compulsion— or the effects of long term separation he lurches forward and sweeps her into a hug.
For what it’s worth both of them are completely unprepared for this. Ren is squeezing her a little too tight and her arms are sticking out at an angle that is far too awkward to actually move. Then he lets go with a chuckle. They don’t … they’re not the hugging type of friends. Both of them know that when he step back a little too quickly. False doesn’t, and shes not sure if it’s shell shock or the cold or the fact that it’s been so long since she’s been around him. Rens rubs his arms soothingly while, False’s eyes dart around to look everywhere but at him.
The moon is shiny tonight as it parts from the clouds, long shadows casting across the deck from the anvils, and she can hear that awful buzz that must be coming from the world border. He’s staring at her, and she knows. He’s staring at her like he’s not real but he knows she’s real. Just as she’s about to throw herself overboard and take a break from the madness, Ren breaks the silence with a cough.
“You must be cold, the temperatures are much cooler here— come on in.”
He holds open the door, gentlemanly as always, her face flushes a bit warm at the heat of a burning furnace. It’s almost a Deja vu moment, a flashback to last season when she was cold and Ren gave her that custom coat. But instead the cabin is cramped and cluttered with starter game items, pots of flowers and a couple of hammocks. Fittingly symmetrical.
“You’re here?” He runs his fingers through his hair, and smooths out his roughed shirt, dusty from mining. “How’d you get out here?”
“Played a prank on the Poe Poe with Cleo.”
Ren laughs. “Copying my idea I see?”
“You’re the one who made me into a boat.”
He blushes. “So you saw the sign?”
“Not exactly the most flattering thing I could be made into, is it really that hard to just say you—“
“— I missed you, Falsie.”
She bats her eyes, a little flushed, a little confused. Ren wasn’t emotionally barred off like her, but he certainly wasn’t always parading around his affections. Especially when it came to her. Especially in front of her.
Sure Ren would throw gifts and flowers at her all the time, and he’d choose her and think about her— but it wasn’t like he said it out loud. He didn’t ever say he was her favourite. Even if they both knew she was.
He tentatively reaches for her hand, he’s not even shaky or sweaty (or at least he doesn’t look like it) and False isn’t even sure this is her Ren that she’s talking to. He rewards his bravery and lets him hold it, his thumb strokes the back of her palm and they both stare at their accomplishment.
When did they get so brave, so bold, and when did his hand feel so nice to hold? He looks up at her, tired eyes enamored by her presence. His other hand stretches out to sweep a few strands of hair from her forehead, and then cups the back of her head. He leans forward, he kisses her temple.
“Thanks for coming False.” He smiles, a little bashful, like he’d stolen something from her (he had). “It’s good to have my neighbour back.”
False heart pangs. She swallows. Right, neighbours. She parrots him again. “Yeah. It's good to see you too, Ren.”