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Memories lingered in Joel’s mind like tendrils of flames that would not go out.
Now that he, too, was a winner, and now that he remembered, it was like he was viewing the world in completely different lenses. Now, everything reminded him of forgotten memories that had been buried in his brain—of times both sorrowful and joyous, of the flashes of blood-stained hands, of fire burning, of falling through an endless sky, of hands holding onto him, of soft, warm lips pressing against his own.
The memories come slowly. It didn’t crash over him all at once from the moment he opened his eyes and came to in this flat world that stretched on beneath his feet, but it came in waves. Almost everything around him was a reminder of everything. His friends, his previous allies, his previous enemies. But, somehow, as the memories slowly came back to him like butterflies landing on his hand one by one, the most prominent emotion he felt was nostalgia. And it was in that moment, as he stood there in the circle with everyone, as Grian announced the rules he’d heard so many times now, Joel glanced at everyone’s faces, trying to memorize each of their features as if to sear it onto his mind. Features and faces that he’d forgotten but now has come back in crystal clear focus. It was a little bit disorienting.
Then, as his gaze finally landed on Grian and their eyes met for a fraction of a second, it was like everything else faded away momentarily. That familiar look in Grian’s eyes didn’t seem so strange now. He remembers, now. He wonders, faintly, just how long it was for Grian to have to wait for him. Did it feel like an eternity? What did he feel like, every time he met Joel’s eyes back then? If Grian’s eyes had looked so familiar back then to Joel, had Joel’s eyes looked so unfamiliar to Grian? The thought lingers in his brain even as they look away from one another.
They split up as the game began, but not for long. It was odd, wasn’t it? Because it always seemed like their feet naturally walked towards the other effortlessly. Even when Joel didn’t remember Grian, the two of them always seemed to drift towards one another. It wasn’t any different now, as the two of them built their base near the border of the world, chatting idly.
Maybe that was just how it was meant to be for them. It’s almost cliche, in a way, a tale as old as time of two soulmates reuniting in every lifetime, but for them it’s a little different. A little more violent. A little more bloody. What’s wrapped on their hands are not red strings, but a piece of each other’s heart that they’ve torn apart.
Like destruction meeting destruction. Fire mingling with fire. The sun and the black hole, the Watchers liked to call them. Because that’s what they were, aren’t they? Two blood-stained hands, reaching for each other’s throats. Two pairs of matches, ready to burn everything within their path and, in turn, burn together amidst those flames.
Joel had said it so casually when Grian brought up the idea of staying under this world together: We’d get bored and kill each other.
That was them, wasn’t it? Even after reuniting, it was just in their nature to be like that. To tug onto each other. To protect one another but pierce their hearts nonetheless. After living in a world that brought forth bloodshed and chaos and destruction for so long, how could they not get used to the feeling of blood dripping from their hands? Or perhaps they have always been like that—which is why they thrive in these games. Which is why even their quick, stolen, in-between kisses taste like poison, that even if it starts so gentle and loving, with a cup on the cheek or a hand on the waist, it will always end with a hint of blood in their lips. Intoxicating. Insatiable.
Like in Wild Life, even in their final battle—their reunion—it did not end with a sacrifice. Because that was boring, and what is boredom to them but to replace it with an exhilarating adrenaline, to trade it with bloodlust instead? Just like in that battle, when their searing kiss had ended with a pierce of Joel’s sword right onto Grian’s heart—
We’d get bored and kill each other.
Perhaps they’ve already done just that.
The memories come in blurs, in flashes and visions that don’t feel quite real in Joel’s mind. He realizes now that the first memory he recalls from his past the moment that he won is Grian. It came slowly like waves softly crashing over his feet, like he’s standing before an ocean but can’t quite step into the deep waters. It made sense, in a way. The person he’d died with in Last Life. The person he’d last killed in Wild Life. Of course Grian would be the first person his mind remembers.
Maybe that's why Joel feels like something in his chest had been rattled so suddenly when he hears Grian say It’s not going well, Joel. Of course it would feel like he’d been knocked off his feet. Of course it would be as surprising as familiar it is, like a memory that suddenly makes everything click into place. That was why these TNT minecarts seem so familiar, as though, somewhere in the fog of his returning memories, Joel has already felt those fine grains of gunpowder in his fingers. Has already felt the way his hands would push the minecart, sending it flying to the ground. Has already heard the noise of it exploding over his ringing ears.
They’d been here before. In another life. With sunglasses over their heads, leather jackets over their shoulders. Three pairs of eyes meeting each others’ in a bridge in the sky. It’d been so blurry before, but now Joel fully remembers.
And those were the best memories, wasn’t it? Just the three of them like nothing else mattered. Just laughing and sighing and shouting in chaos like it was just a harmless game.
So that’s why all of us wish for the same thing. Joel thinks. To see each other again.
Nostalgia is more powerful than anything else. As bittersweet as it, all of them give in anyway, no matter how painful it is to relive it all over again. To see friends, lovers, and enemies who don’t recognize them at all.
In that moment, the waves come crashing over Joel.
Because Grian has always been there in all of his lives. In all the bloodshed he’d caused with hands shaking with adrenaline. Grian has always been by his side, even when Joel didn’t remember him. Even Joel didn’t remember him, his body still naturally leaned towards Grian, still effortlessly ran to Grian’s side, still stayed until the end. The heart remembers what the mind forgets.
Joel didn’t realize how much he’d been longing for Grian’s presence even when he couldn't remember who Grian was.
And now it was crystal clear once again—because hadn’t they been here before, plotting murder together as if it’s the most normal thing in the world? Hadn’t they been here before, clutching TNT minecarts, whispering furiously to each other, hoping—no, itching—for a kill? And hadn’t Joel been here before, said those same words before as he feels the cold night air hit his skin, as he stands in front of that tower, calling out for Grian like it’s the most natural thing for him to do?
It’s not going well—!
Hearing Grian say it now is like ice-cold water hitting his face.
The memories rush back, all at once—like a sudden downpour.
“Yeah, it—” Joel starts, recovering from his stunned silence. Grian looks at him from where he’s perched on the tower, something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s really not…”
Grian jumps down and lands in front of him. Even like this, even as the night stretches on around them and voices mingling into chaos over their ears, Joel suddenly focuses his vision solely on the one standing before him.
“I said that to you before.” Joel says. It wasn’t a question. More of a statement whispered in quiet disbelief.
There’s something that Joel learned since winning. The memories don’t all come at once. His memories start fuzzy, distant—as though they weren’t really real. Confusing. Disorienting. He knows those are his memories, but he can’t quite tell where each of it falls into place. On where it happened. On what game it was from. It seems more like a blur of colors and faces whose eyes he can’t remember just yet, his mind still trying to focus on the whole image rather than in bits and pieces.
The first thing he fully remembered was Grian and his memories with him in Last Life.
But now…now another part of the image has been highlighted, been enhanced in his mind.
“You did,” was Grian’s response as he stopped everything he was doing to look at Joel. There’s unspoken words there, too painful feelings and memories that Joel can tell Grian is not saying, but he sees it anyway in Grian’s haunted eyes.
What was it like? Joel wanted to ask. There was so much he wanted to ask. What did it feel like to love someone but not be remembered by said person? What was it like to be with the person he loves who doesn’t remember him—to sit there and be so close, but so far away?
For Joel, being with Grian all those years was like deja vu. Over and over again. Familiar black eyes. Familiar touches.
So what was it like for Grian?
“Not easy,” Grian shrugs, turning away for a moment. Joel has a feeling he wasn’t just talking about that moment in Limited Life. Then he says, “Everything reminds me of us.”
Joel glanced away, even though Grian wasn’t facing him. Me, too. He wanted to say, but couldn’t.
So he lets it fade into the silence, carried away by the wind and lost in all the chaos around them.