Archive of Our Own ^beta

When you stand beneath a willow tree long enough, the limbs stop looking like strong arms that can carry you up into the sky. The bark decays away, leaving roots bare without a shield, and you see how weathered it grows over the years. The scars that lay so deep that creatures–beyond your imagination–have found to lay their heads. Sure, the willow could stretch its arms to the sky, but you find yourself wondering just why it reaches so high anyway. And somewhere along the lines you find it stretches far for the same reasons you do, to escape its deepening ropes that keep it seeded within the soil. 

That was how Jimmy had learned to see the old willow tree after his sister came home—brother, reminded himself. He was his brother. 

He wasn’t sure if he had ever thought it possible, but when he had the person standing next to him it was difficult to deny. 

He did not talk a lot. Jimmy knew that much, at least, not as much as Pearl and Martyn talked about him. And when it came to the park, he barely whispered a word. It was like staring at the grave of a man with his ghost standing beside you–which he guessed was exactly what it was.

“Do you want to go home?” Jimmy asked, his fingers looped around his brother’s hand. He had been the one who wanted to venture out to the old park anyway. Jimmy did not understand it, why he wanted to lay witness to his own graveside was beyond his twelve year old mind. But who was he to ignore his brother’s only request?

He didn’t respond, only nodded, sharply. 

Jimmy frowned, tugging on his brother’s wrist. “C’mon,” He ushered, feeling oddly older than he should as he led his brother out the park, “Pearl can make us snacks.”

She was supposed to walk him home anyway. It was her day after all, she had just been called out to work earlier than she was supposed to. Martyn would’ve driven them home if he wasn’t still ‘cleaning up’, whatever that meant. But either way, Jimmy knew he didn’t mean the house. Martyn wouldn’t dare do that–not with Pearl the way she was about their organization. Not to mention the fact that Martyn left home everyday to go ‘clean up’ and he normally wasn’t back till late. 

Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it meant, but he wasn’t going to say. He was just glad he wasn’t the one they were keeping secrets from for a change. No, instead they were tiptoeing around their brother. 

He curled his scarf closer around his neck, the wintry chill biting his fingers and cheeks. It had nearly been a whole year since–since then. They were only two months short of a year anniversary, Jimmy had heard one hermit suggest a celebration, but they had gotten shut down. What exactly was there to celebrate anyway? Not much had changed since the first month of his sibling’s return. 

Pearl was waiting for them at the door, her hands wringing a towel out, “There you are!” She wrapped both her arms around their brother, squeezing. Jimmy wondered if he even liked it when she did that. He rarely returned her hugs, especially when she squeezed so tightly. She let go, ushering him inside, “Are you two, okay? No scrapes or bruises?”

Jimmy shook his head, as Pearl’s hand threaded through his hair. Pearl nodded, “Good. Good. Go sit down.” 

Jimmy watched as his brother did exactly as she said, sitting down on their couch. He did not move to tug his shoes off or to shove his backpack away like Jimmy would have done. He sat still on the cushions staring at the black t.v. screen in front of him. Jim frowned, following his sister into the kitchen. 

“He won’t talk.” 

Pearl flinched at his voice. Had it been any other moment he might’ve apologized, but each glance back to his brother kept him still. “He hasn’t talked.”

“I know.” Pearl whispered. 

“Something’s wrong.” 

“I know.”

“Can we do something?” Jimmy asked, pressing against the counter as his sister poured three cups. 

“He gets like this, Jim. You know that.” She sighed, “We just have to be patient.”

“But he was fine this morning.”

“How about you go find Scott?” She deflected, offering down a mug. 

Jimmy frowned, “Do you know what happened?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, “If I did, I would’ve fixed it by now.”

“Does Scar know?” Jimmy continued to press on. 

“If Scar knew of something, you wouldn’t have been walking with him home.” Pearl chuckled lightly, before shaking her head. She shooed the boy off, “Go run off and find Scott. Leave me to handle him.”

Jimmy frowned as Pearl nearly shoved him out of the kitchen. He stumbled out of the doorway, huffing. He glanced over seeing his brother still sitting perfectly still on the couch. He hadn’t moved an inch, his backpack still on and shoes still attached to his feet. He waited a moment longer, tugging off his own backpack. 

When Pearl finally came out of the kitchen, she handed the extra mug to their sibling. She gently wrapped his fingers around the cup, only letting go when she was sure he was holding it. Jimmy watched as his sister knelt down to untie his shoes, that blond head still staring at the blank t.v. He hated how much taller his brother was than him. He acted more like an adult than his brother did half the time, there was no reason for him to be nearly two heads taller than him.

Jimmy pulled his scarf higher, covering his nose, before walking out the door. At least, Scott made sense most of the time, he thought. 

____________________________________________________________

“The white death is here.” Grian’s voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke that night.

He had been curled up on the chair nearest the window. He had hidden himself away in their thickest blanket, the mug in his hands still full. Pearl had refilled it once, but apparently he just wanted to keep his fingers warm. He hadn’t spoken much since they’d gotten home that afternoon. Pearl had tried to pull information out of him, but his lips–much like his fingers–were frozen shut. When Martyn had gotten home, he had even tried his own futile attempt at coercing Grian.

Jimmy had watched him from the staircase. It was still an odd thing to see. 

For the longest time Jimmy knew Martyn had two sides to him. He knew that the side he saw was his brother–his family. It was the part of him that was warm like the honey-biscuits Pearl made for his birthday. It was happy like his laughter whenever Jimmy made a joke out of the blue. It was the smile on his face when he returned home with a ribbon or perfect score. 

But there was the other side, too. There was the side that Martyn always tried to hide. The one that would pull out that gun quicker than words. There was the side that screamed and yelled. The side that dealt with criminals. He’d always thought that side was cool. Imagining his brother running after some bad guy and catching up with them just in time. Thinking about his brother saving those kids after they went missing. 

He didn’t know about the supposed third side. 

It was the only side he used with Grian. 

And it was the same one he used with those kids he saved, that much he did know. He could tell from how Martyn would kneel down in front of him to speak–He never talked to Grian while standing. His voice was quieter than it ever was when Martyn visited him. Sometimes, Jimmy swore it was the same voice he used when he was still six. 

He liked that side of Martyn– more than he wanted to admit. 

“What do you mean?” Martyn asked, his voice dipping into the one Jimmy knew was meant for Grian. They had been in the middle of a game. The board spread across the coffee table. Pearl was watching from her spot on the floor, eyes glancing between Grian and Martyn. 

Grian didn’t move. His eyes staring outside the window, those two dark pupils wide and unseeing of anything else. Martyn frowned, “Gri? What are you talking about?”

Jimmy followed his brother’s eyes, before he saw it, “It’s snowing.”

Martyn darted his eyes once to Jimmy before looking outside. He saw it, too. The white specs floating down from the sky. The grass was slowly being covered in the white blanket, only dusting at the moment. 

“The white death.” Grian nodded.

“It’s…” Martyn paused, “It’s snow.”

Jimmy watched as Grian’s face scrunched up. “It’s cold.” 

“That’s how snow works.” He muttered.

“Jimmy.” Pearl chided beside him, nudging him with her knee. He rolled his eyes, leaping his character to the next spot on the board.

“Well, it is.” Jimmy muttered back. Martyn’s brow furrowed as he glanced down to the two siblings on the floor. Jimmy pushed the stack of cards towards Martyn, hoping the older would pull from the deck to continue their game.

Martyn ignored him, “I can get you another blanket.” He didn’t even wait for a response before standing. Jimmy watched as his brother walked out of the living room, he huffed. Grian already had one blanket. Why did he need another? And why couldn’t he just get it himself? He wasn’t the one in the middle of a game!

He had offered for Grian to play with them, trying to pry the boy from his silent watchful gaze out the window. Instead, Grian had shaken his head and watched confused as they played. 

Jimmy huffed, crossing his arms as he waited. His sister sat still beside him, her voice echoing Martyn’s when she spoke, “Do you want to go outside, Griba?”

“No!” Grian shouted back. His fingers tighten around his mug until the tips of his knuckles turn white. His single black eye grew as wide as a plate when he flinched around to stare back at them. He shook in his seat, trembling as he rambled on to himself. “No. No. No, please. No.”

Pearl must have seen something before Jimmy did, because his sister was up and moving before the younger could hear anything else. She rushed over to his brother’s side, kneeling beside his chair. Her voice was calm, smooth like the times she read Jimmy a bed-time story. Her words, however, were harder to make out against Grian’s constant wailing. 

“No, please! I don’t—I don’t want to! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t want to go back outside.” He heaved out, his words chopped off by shaky gasps for air. Jimmy gritted his teeth watching as Pearl gently grasped his wrists. They had learned that Grian had a nasty habit of scratching, his nails would cut deep into the thin skin along his wrists. Scar had once suggested it was because of the drawings he remembered seeing, but the new sketchbook Martyn had gotten him had done no good. 

Jimmy watched as Pearl mimicked those loud breaths. He squinted his eyes, listening to Pearl say the same thing over and over again. How hard was it to understand?! All he had to do was breathe! He’d heard the same thing every night when he went to bed.

Every night, he would crawl into his bed waiting for Pearl’s last goodnight message. His door was cracked, awaiting his sister’s presence, but the small sliver allowed him to see straight to his brother’s room. He could hear every night, exactly when it started. It would start out easily, a quick check of each closet and crevice in the room before she could finally corral him into bed. That was when it normally started, Grian didn’t want to sleep in a bed–he hadn’t at the beginning and he still argued on it. Fortunately Martyn would be able to calm him down enough, but when the lights turned off—that was when all hell broke loose. 

He had asked Martyn about it one night after a particular bad night. He had called it a panic attack but there was more to it than that. He said Grian couldn’t control it, but Jimmy had long since gotten over his own fear of the dark. He didn’t understand why the seventeen year old was still scared! 

So each night, he heard the same noise from his brother’s bedroom. Those breaths mocked him as he waited for his sister to come in. It felt like she spent hours in there, talking him down and listening to his ramblings. Had anyone else been in their home, they would’ve thought their brother was a lunatic! 

“Woah! What’s going on? What happened?” Martyn nearly shouted once he rounded the corner. He had a blanket sprawled out in his arms, something he had grabbed from Grian’s bedroom. Jimmy watched as his older brother dropped the blanket on the chair and rushed over to his siblings’ side. He stared as they tried to calm down their brother. 

“I—I don’t know! I just asked if he wanted–wanted to go outside! He panicked. Am I missing something?” Pearl rushed out, taking the mug out of Grian’s hands and placing it gently on the table beside them. 

“I don’t–I don’t want to go outside!” Grian begged, his fingers wrapping tightly around the strands of his hair. The fluffy curls were still growing back after thousands of attempts to rip them out. “Please–please don’t make me.”

Martyn shook his head, “No one— no one is making you go outside. You’re staying right here. It was a question, buddy. Just a question.”

It was just a question, Jimmy wanted to scream it at him. Everything was fine! All she had done was ask a question! 

Jimmy glared down at the forgotten gameboard below. The three colorful players stood completely still while the timer still ran at the corner of the table. The numbers rose at each of Grian’s cries, as if it was counting how long he could repeat the same thing. Jimmy’s teeth chewed at the inside of his cheek, watching through his eyelids as Grian tried to grasp onto Pearl. 

He nearly fell into her at one point, Pearl’s grip on his elbows the only thing that kept him from falling forward. He was trying to escape the two of them. He shoved against Pearl, trembling fingers twisting against her pajamas. He shook his head, desperately, tracks of tears running down his face. He was nearly inconsolable, just wailing through panicked heaves. Pearl tried to keep hold of him as he forced himself to his feet. 

“Grian—Grian sit.” That was the voice Martyn used at work. 

Jimmy could see the moment when Grian finally saw Martyn. His eye widened, and he was struggling out of Pearl’s arms more. That was something else odd, there times, flashes of moments where Grian would remember Martyn better. At first, Grian hadn’t remembered any of them, it took weeks of Scar assuring him of who they were before he grew used to it. But there were flashes of moments when Grian wretched himself from his seat to curl under Martyn’s coat. 

“Mar—Martyn. I don’t—I need to go. I can’t—it’s too,” Grian sobbed out, shooting from Pearl’s arms to Martyn. Jimmy gritted his teeth as Martyn took control of the situation. 

“I know,” Martyn’s voice was firm, grounded as he stared into Grian’s one eye. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Grian shook his head, his legs tangled in the mess of blankets beneath him. Pearl stayed by his side, her arms braced against his back in case he fell. “It’s too cold.” Grian stammered out, eyes glancing behind him to the window where icy snowflakes dusting the glass. “It’s too cold—need to move. I need to go.”

He tried to kick against the blankets, stomping on the fabric that strangled his feet. He moved quickly. Pearl tried to pull the blanket away from his feet, but she wasn’t fast enough. Martyn barely had a hold on Grian before he was toppling over. 

Jimmy could only watch as the timer ticked on, higher and higher. It was no longer counting Grian’s repeated pleas, it was counting the irritating voice in the back of his head. Counting the number of times he wished he could step in and shove the other. Everything had been perfect–everything had been fine. 

He felt heat rise against his skin as Grian fell forward. In his mind, the quiet voice told him it should be from worry. He should’ve been worried about his brother’s form stumbling into their coffee table. He should have been worried when his head hit the corner of the table. Or when his body slammed against their floor. He knew he should have been worried, because he saw how quickly Pearl and Martyn reacted. 

Instead, the heat rose and rose against his skin until he felt like he was on fire. It was burning against his head, stoking the voice that itched his brain. His fingers tensed, fisting against his skin, as he watched their board game fall to the floor. The colorful player-markers tossed to the ground like the corpses of fallen soldiers. The cards flew up into the air as some sick magic trick, waiting for him to clean up after Pearl and Martyn would pull Grian away. 

A whole night’s game ruined.

He had been wanting this.

He had always wanted this.

A chance to play a game with his family. His whole family.

He just hadn’t realized what bringing in his whole family would mean.

All he did was whine! All he did was complain! He acted like a baby! It had been a quiet, easy night. No one had argued, no one had freaked out, no one had even made a snappy comment! He had invited Grian to play with them. He had asked if he wanted to join them, but he declined. He said ‘no’! So why did he get to take the attention off of their game when he didn’t even want to play in the first place!

Jimmy seethed to himself, the smoke from his nose, blaring a warning. 

He didn’t even know he had snapped around to his brother. All he knew was there were words falling out of his mouth. There were sharp words pouring from his tongue and the look on Pearl’s face told him enough. 

He had never seen her look like that. 

For the first time, Pearl was actually surprised by him. Sure, she had been surprised before. But this—this was different. The way her eyes darted between him and Grian, as if she was waiting for a second boot to drop. Her skin had grown paler than it already was, her hands shaking as she helped Martyn sit Grian up. 

And Martyn—Jimmy had never ever seen Martyn angry—not at him. He had never been the cause of those daggers he glared at or the thin line that set on his mouth. His brother’s gaze itself could kill as swiftly as the gun his uniform required. His jaw was set, locked as his nose twitched. 

“ —All she did was ask a question!” Jimmy finally heard himself, “It’s just snow! Why do you have to be scared of everything! It’s just snow — you big baby! Can’t you just be normal for once! All you have to do is shut up and listen to them–they’re telling you you don’t have to do anything! All you had to do was be quiet and watch but you couldn’t even do that without getting in the way–but you ruined it. You ruined it! We almost had it and you ruined it!” 

He caught himself on the last word, as abruptly as he started. It felt as if the words had vomited out of his mouth only to stop once pulled every muscle in his body. He felt his own eyes prick with tears as he looked between Martyn and Pearl. The fire in his body died down, only to be reignited once he remembered what he’d said. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Grian. He was still on the floor, after all, staring at him. Jimmy didn’t want to see the look of hurt and panic on his face. Even if Grian hadn’t been able to understand him in his mangled, crazed state, his siblings had. 

Martyn’s voice cut through the air, his eyes glaring daggers at the youngest. “Room.” He snapped jabbing a finger into the air to point up the stairs, “Now.”

Jimmy gasped out a shaky breath, because Martyn didn’t yell. 

He never did.

Not after their parents.

But then—then he sounded a lot like them, because Martyn never told him what to do. That was Pearl’s job. Pearl got on to him. Pearl was there when he was in trouble–never Martyn.

The eldest stared at him, waiting for his body to catch up with the order. Martyn raised an eyebrow, waiting for the argument that might come. Pearl’s eyes glanced between Jimmy and Grian, panicked hands trying to speak to the other who just stared back at the youngest. 

It was the fact that Grian didn’t even respond that broke Jimmy. His brother didn’t yell back or even cry out. He half-way expected the boy to break down, that was what happened when he heard Pearl and Martyn arguing. But here in their small living room, the ruined game pieces splayed across the floor, he was perfectly still. 

Jimmy bit back his own tears as he felt the heat rise up into his cheeks. He didn’t wait any longer. He darted up the stairs, running as fast as he could, before those stares could burn away at his skin. At that moment, he felt like that old willow tree, the bark chipping away at the shield to reveal viney roots soaking up everything around them. 

_______________________________________________________________________

He knew what was going to happen next. Which was why he waited on the edge of his bed, running a hand through Norman’s fur. Even with his door partially closed, he could still hear his siblings downstairs. It wouldn’t be his first time hearing a Martyn lecture, he kept telling himself, even if it was the first time it would be directed at him. 

He ran his hand through Norman’s fur once again, letting his fingers disappear into the grey color. Back when Martyn still lived with them, when Pearl was still young, he could hear the lectures he gave her late at night. He would sit at the top of the stairs listening as Pearl came home late or snapped back at him. Those lectures never lasted long, either Martyn burned himself out too scared to continue or Pearl would storm off. The longer arguments were always saved for the days Pearl got in trouble at school, often dragging Mumbo or someone else down with her. 

However, the times he was thinking of at the moment as he sat waiting in his bedroom, had nothing to do with those late night screaming matches. Instead, it was the few times Pearl had rounded back on him. 

“Why couldn’t it have been you!” He remembered her screaming at him when he was eight. She had been fourteen at the time, coming home after spending the afternoon with Xander and Jevin. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but something had set her off, because she stormed into the house crying. She had spouted off before Martyn rushed in from the kitchen. He had gotten there just in time to hear those dreaded words. 

He remembered Martyn pulling her into a hug before leading her into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure why he hugged her instead of telling her off. Nor was he sure why she got away with it so lightly. They never spoke about it again after that night, Martyn had apologized for Pearl, but he couldn’t even meet his eyes when it was said. Some part of him wondered if he truly meant it or if he agreed with her—that maybe that was why he hugged her. 

The slow knock at his door brought him out of his thoughts, and he took a sharp breath in waiting for Martyn to round the doorway–only for Pearl to walk in. She stood in his doorway, eyes scanning over him before she sighed. She barely shut the door with a click, before crossing her arms. 

“You got anything to say for yourself?” She asked. He could still see where her tears had stained her cheeks, causing the light to bounce off her face. 

He frowned, “Where’s Martyn?”

She raised an eyebrow, “With Grian—talking him down. He’s better at that than I am.” She shrugged, turning back to him, “You want to start or should I?”

“I know what I did.” 

“Oh, do you? Want to tell me why you did it then?” He could tell she was biting back words. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion but were outweighed by the heft in her voice. Jimmy darted his eyes away, his sister’s anger was a volatile thing–explosive at times. 

“He could’ve played if he wanted to.” Jimmy muttered.

“Is that what this is about?” Her voice had a mocking tilt to it, but it was hidden underneath an irritated sigh. “That does not give you the right to—”

“That’s not why I did it!” Jimmy cut her off, glaring up at her. Norman’s ear twitched beside him from his shout, the cat barely paying attention to the noise keeping him from napping. The youngest's fingers tangled into his pajama bottoms, as his foot tapped on the carpet below him. “We were this close—we were so close.”

“To what?” Pearl pressed.

“To being normal!” Jimmy snapped, his brow tight above his eyes. “Everyone was there for once–we were playing–it was normal! Then–then he had to go and…and do that!” Jimmy huffed, swiping a hand towards his door. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to say exactly how his newest brother had ruined their routine. If he had, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop. 

“Normal?” Pearl nearly seethed out, the word brushing past her clenched jaw. She let out a shaky breath, tapping her fingers along the edge of her sweater. She had pulled her sweater over her pajamas, gripping the old comfort desperately, “Jimmy. When has anything–anything in this house been normal.”

“I know that.” 

“Then what makes you think that was okay?” She shouted, something in her composure breaking at Jimmy’s words. Her shield had cracked down the middle and he could see the scarlet fire in her eyes. Her arm jutted out to the doorway she had entered from. 

Jimmy slammed his tiny fists into his bedding, “Because I can’t do it!” 

“Do what?” Pearl snapped.

“I can’t–” Jimmy huffed, shooting up from his bed, “I can’t keep doing this!” He squinted his eyes shut as his cheeks burned. The backs of his eyes were burning, pricking with tears he wouldn’t let fall. He steeled himself, digging his blunt nails into his palms, “It was fine at first–it was–but now. I can’t turn the lights off! I can’t leave him by himself!”

He shuddered, wincing as he spoke. Pearl would hate him for what he was about to say but he couldn’t bury it down any longer. She was already furious, he’d rather she slam the door behind her on the way out than wait until tomorrow.

“Mumbo can’t take him outside without him darting off the second he hears a twig! He has to watch every time you make dinner and passes out whenever Martyn drives—we were late to school because Martyn had to take him back to the hospital! And he woke up like a second later.” Jimmy rambled off, pacing the edge of his bed before he snapped back towards his sister. His voice laced with venom as he spit out each word.

Pearl looked like she was growing more and more frustrated as he spoke. Her fingers tapped  along her arm as he bit down on her cheek. She pointed a single finger at the other, warning, “Jimmy”

“Martyn had to take me trick or treating because you had to stay home with him, so he could hide in a closet!” Jimmy bellowed out, remembering the night. Pearl was supposed to be the one to take him, their costumes matched afterall! But instead, Grian had spent the entire week in a frenzy and wouldn’t let Pearl leave the house.

“I did not put him in a closet!” Pearl shrieked, her words echoing off the walls like a chorus. Her voice strained through her throat as if she was still holding back. 

“Yeah cause if you did, he’d start screaming again!”

Pearl blinked, her shoulders flinching at his tone. She let out a sharp breath, her voice dipping lower as she spoke, firmly, “You are way out of line, young man.”

Jimmy shook his head ignoring her. He scoffed, laughing to himself, “It’s the truth!” He smiled even as his lips curled up making it look more like a grimace. “I can’t even ask him to play a game with me without him freaking out! It’s been a year!”

“That does not get rid of everything he went through.” 

“Yeah, but you treating him like a baby does?” Jimmy shot back, jutting his chin out pridefully. His sister’s wide eyes met him and he felt the curl of pride burrow in his stomach. “Scar spends all day with him at school while he walks around like a lost puppy! Martyn told me he’d take me to the park but instead he had to spend the afternoon helping Grian do homework meant for a fifth grader! You told me I could bring Scott over but said we couldn’t because Grian was back from the police station! You covered up the mirrors because he keeps breaking them all because he keeps seeing stuff that isn’t even there!”

Pearl was silent for another moment, her eyes scanning him over. Jimmy heaved, strained breaths leaving him through clenched teeth. She frowned, the anger hidden behind a mask once again as she asked, “Are you mad at Grian or are you mad at us?”

Jimmy stuttered to a stop. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was mad at. He knew Grian couldn’t control it, it had been one of the first conversations Pearl had when Grian got out of the hospital. But even a year after the fact, it was hard to remember that Grian had little control over his own actions. 

But even if he knew and understood why it happened, he still hated how it happened. How every time what he wanted slipped through his hands because they had to drop everything for Grian. 

And because of that he didn’t know who he was mad at.

Pearl seethed, “I suggest you figure that out.”

Jimmy darted his eyes to his sister just as she turned back to the door. He huffed, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go check on our brother,” She stated sternly, before turning back to him. She was halfway out the door when she spoke, pointing at him, “You’re going to sit here and figure out who you’ve decided to be mad at. And when you figure that out, we’ll continue this conversation.”

Jimmy stared at the closed door in front of him. The wood paneling closed him off from the rest of his family. After years of being shut out from the important conversations and secrets that they held close to their chests, he was still working behind a shut door. Stranded in his room alone to deal with the world. 

Shaky breaths escaped him as his eyes billowed with tears. The tips of his lips were pulled until he felt nothing could lift them back into place. He buried the palms of his hands into his eyes, digging into the skin to stop the tracks of tears that threatened to fall. He rubbed his fists into his eyes until they were raw, leaving him squinting at the light that crept in below his doorway. 

He wasn’t sure who he was mad at. He wasn’t even sure if he was mad!

It had been a year. A year of walking on glass around his family because he wasn’t sure when one of them would crack. Pearl and Martyn could at least pretend to face the world with a shield. No one expected Martyn to react, he was steady, he was unwavering. He could hide behind the mask he wore to work and treat them like the families of victims he’d dealt with before. Until they were behind closed doors, then Jimmy could see every crack in his system slowly falling apart. Pearl could find ways to keep her busy, she had done this before. She had been there for her siblings through everything, no one expected her to break down, and even if they did they never spoke about it. But still, Jimmy managed to see when she snapped–like she had moments before. 

He was the odd one out. Everyone wanted to know when he would break. They kept asking him about it. Asking how he was feeling or how they could help. He didn’t want their help. He just wanted things to at least pretend to be normal. He just told himself he wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t let himself be babied, not when Grian was doing it enough for both of them. 

And he deserved it, Jimmy told himself, he truly did. Because he had been the one who had to teach Grian how to tie his shoes. He had to be the one to teach him how to properly play a game of hide and seek. He had been the one to drag Grian around the neighborhood and point out every detail of their friends’ homes. He had done all of it because he knew Grian never had a childhood.

So then why did he hate it so much that everyone else was doing the same thing?

Jimmy dragged his hands down over his mouth. He screamed behind his hands, stomping his feet into the carpeted flooring knowing well how easily it would be to hear his tiny tantrum. 

Still he flung his hands off his mouth, wiping his face clean before, grabbing the doorknob. He slipped the door open, leaning a single ear out to the hallway. 

He may not know why he was…what he was.

But he knew it wasn’t directed at Grian.

Which meant he needed to apologize–

Which he did not want to do.

“What did he say?” Pearl’s voice had dropped into a whisper, all her frustration and anger forgotten. Jimmy peeked out his doorway, seeing the two siblings standing at the stairwell’s edge. Grian’s door was cracked, the lights still turned on. 

Martyn sighed, leaning against the banister to look over the living room. “He spent how many years alone—it’s bound to happen.”

“That doesn’t explain anything, Martyn.” The edge in her voice was just barely breaking through. 

“He left the Watchers when he was twelve, Pearl. That’s nearly six years unaccounted for–six years he spent living in that damn alleyway. Of course he’s going to react when the one season that poses the biggest threat to his survival comes around.” Martyn explained. 

“He called it ‘white death’ –” Pearl whispered, staring out the window where the snow was piling against the roads. 

“What else do you call it?” Martyn laughed, humorlessly. “All he knew was that the moment he saw it, his probability of survival went down. Hypothermia, frostbite, no food, no shelter, it’s a miracle he survived this long.”

“You can’t be saying it’s a good thing that boy came around.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Pearl heaved out a sigh, Jimmy could see her grip tighten around the banister, “Then what do we do?”

Martyn shrugged, “Same thing we did for Halloween.” Jimmy grimaced behind his door, “Take it one day at a time.”

The youngest huffed, silently pulling his door open. He slipped out of his room, socked feet slinking across the wooden floors to his brother’s room. His siblings never looked behind them, mumbling to each other with half-hearted gestures and sighs. He brought his knuckles up to knock once on the door, but knew the sound would not only alert Grian but would also grab his siblings attention—siblings he was currently avoiding. 

He pushed a single finger onto the door, watching it flutter open easily. He stood at the entrance of the room, waiting for Grian to see him. He slipped in quietly, closing the door back to its cracked state. 

Grian sat on his bed, the same bed that had been there since the day he’d left years ago. The twins’ room had never changed after that night. Pearl wouldn’t allow anyone to touch Grian’s side and when she became old enough, she moved into their parents' old room. Pearl’s old side of the room was gone now, though, boxed up and shoved aside. Grian still looked exactly the same, over the year they had tried to get him to decorate it more. They had even offered to get him a new bed, but he had declined—it wasn’t like he used the thing anyway.

The blond twisted his hands together, fingers gripping the fabric of his pajama bottoms deathly tight. Jimmy could see his jaw set in place as the skin around his eyes twitched to keep tears hidden. Jimmy had seen Grian after an attack many times, the red face and shaky breaths mixed with broken sniffles and silenced sobs. 

“Hi.” 

Grian’s eye darted over to him, the other still covered by the black patch. His brow knitted together, “Hi?” 

“I’m sorry.” The words fell from his mouth before he could address the confusion in Grian’s voice. He couldn’t bear to look at his brother’s face. His apology would only deepen the crease in his brother’s forehead, and Jimmy could not help but want to slap the expression off his face. 

“Why?” Unfortunately, there was nothing Jimmy could do to ignore the questions that would arise next. 

“Because I yelled at you.” Jimmy muttered.

Grian blinked, shrugging. He hadn’t looked away from Jimmy once, his eye trained on his movements only vaguely twitching to the side before finding its way back. “Oh,” He hummed, watching the air around Jimmy’s hair as if something had flown out of his blond curls, “It’s okay.”

Jimmy huffed, crossing his arms, “No, it’s not.” He grimaced to himself at the tone, he sounded like Pearl when Grian apologized too much. Speaking of Pearl, she would not be happy with him by the end of the night. He imagined that if he wasn’t in for a lecture beforehand, he certainly was now. Because while there were many things Grian had learned and gotten used to over the year, understanding an apology was not one of them. To him there was no question of forgiveness when someone made a mistake, because in the end that mistake would be blamed on him. “But you…you don’t understand that.” Jimmy sighed, he pointed to the spot beside Grian on his barren bed. “Can I sit?”

Grian nodded, quickly. Jimmy shuffled closer, carefully avoiding the stubborn pile of blankets that found themselves in the farthest corner from the bed. Grian watched him, that single eye never leaving his presence until he scooted to the side to allow Jimmy space. 

Jimmy hopped onto the mattress, burying his hands into his lap as he thought about his next words. 

“I’m sorry, I ruined your game.” Grian admitted before he got the chance. 

Jimmy flinched, looking over to his brother, “You didn’t ruin my game.” 

“You said I did.” 

And Jimmy felt the pit in his stomach grow into an abyss. He gripped the fabric of his pants, “People say things they don’t mean when they're mad…” He repeated what Pearl had told him all his life. It was something she repeated each time she fought with Martyn. It was a lie, one so thinly built that even his own nine year old self could see through it the first time she said it. But Grian wasn’t him—Grian would believe him. He’d believe him without a doubt.

“Sam said that was when everyone told the truth.” Grian muttered back, curling his legs up into his chest. 

Jimmy chewed on the inside of his cheek. ‘Sam’ was a name he had heard a few times when talking to Grian. Pearl nor Martyn would ever tell him who this Sam person was, but he knew they weren’t good. He could see it on Scar’s face when he asked him about it. He could see it from the way Mumbo tensed up and blabbered on about photography. He could see it in the way Martyn would take a break each time the name was mentioned, just so he could leave the room. 

In the end, he still had no idea who Sam was, but he knew enough. “Are you really going to listen to Sam?”

Grian shook his head, burying himself into his knees. Jimmy could do nothing as his brother’s shoulders began to shake once again and he heard the quiet sobs escaping him. “I–I don’t–I don’t know.”

Jimmy stayed silent, listening to his brother’s shaking breath as he tried to calm himself down. He had half the mind to give up and grab his siblings once again, but the moment either of them knew he was out of his room would strike the end of this conversation completely.

“I’m not mad at you,” Jimmy replied, managing to drag his eyes away from his sibling to give him at least the decency of privacy. “You know that, right?”

Grian pulled his head up, resting his chin on his knees, “You should be.”

It was Jimmy’s turn to be confused. He glanced back, furrowing his brow, “Why?’

The older sighed, dropping his legs. He leaned down, looking underneath the bed they sat on. Jimmy watched as the older pulled out the thick binder he had gifted him during their first meeting. It was something that Grian had held precious for months afterwards, and eventually Jimmy no longer saw it. 

He knew the other still had it, because sometimes when he passed his brother’s cracked door, he could see him flipping through the pages. 

“Because I’m not the person you wanted.” He flicked through the first few pages, finding different drawings Jimmy had done over the years. There were drawings he had made during grandparent’s day, father’s day, mother’s day and any other day where he had no one else to be with. His teachers had always thought it strange that no matter the occasion he made things for his sibling but they never said anything else. “Am I?”

He stopped at a page of different drawings of what Jimmy had thought he might look like. “I’m just some strange freak you had to deal with. You wanted a normal sibling like Pearl and Martyn but all you got was me. Someone who gets scared of everything, who can’t understand basic concepts. I’m sorry.”

Jimmy frowned, laying out his hands for the scrapbook. Grian gingerly handed it back to him, this grim look on his face. He seemed  almost resigned, as if Jimmy was pulling away the title of being his sibling from him. 

“I never cared about any of that.” Jimmy said, flipping page after page. “I didn’t care what you looked like. What you acted like. It didn’t matter.” He stopped on a page with a simple little sticky note next to the many cards and projects, “See?”

The note was exactly what he had said, scribbled handwriting read, “It really dont matter do it?”

“I wouldn’t change anything.” Jimmy stated firmly, “People do funny things when they’re scared.”

Grian shook his head, wiping his eye, “They wouldn’t be scared of snow though.”

“Only because it’s not called The White Death.” Jimmy giggled to himself, “You’re scared of Winter.”

Grian shivered, shaking his head, “Of what comes with it.” 

Jimmy nodded, “You only saw the bad stuff.”

“What?”

Jimmy laid the scrapbook down, “You didn’t get the chance to see the good stuff! There’s a lot of fun stuff you only get to do in the Winter!” Jimmy jumped up, eyes ablaze with ideas. He thought of showing Grian the intricacies of building snowmen or the strategies he and Scott had perfected for a snowball fight. He grinned, fists shaking with excitement, “I could show you if you want?”

Grian looked almost more confused, “Like what?”

Jimmy scoffed, “Like ice skating! –or snowmen–hot chocolate, presents, caroling, cookies, sledding, snowball fights, family dinner—” Jimmy gasped, “Christmas!”

Grian blinked, “Christmas?” The word completely foreign to him. 

Jimmy grinned, jumping back onto the bed next to his brother, “Oh you’re going to love this!”

_________________________________________________________________

Scar stood outside the brown door, his back braced against the wall as he waited. It was easier to hold himself up against the wall than with his cane. While the little cane gave him mobility, the wall came with a certain stability he missed. He shifted on his feet, his thigh burning with the movement, after spending all day on his feet his knee was killing him. 

He sighed, swallowing back a wince, once Grian walked out of the classroom, he needed to be the picture of calm. The bell had already rung marking the end of the day and hour before, now the school was buzzing with extracurriculars and clubs. For Scar, that had meant the building club, spending an hour working on their miniature countries and cities. But for Grian, that meant spending an extra hour in class—something recommended by their counselor. After years of missing critical instruction, the extra hour was the bare minimum they were able to do at the moment. 

And as much as Scar believed the others had no problem understanding the concepts they were being taught, he could see it during their regular classes the moment Grian was gone. The moment there was no getting him back before the next bell. It had been extremely obvious in Redstone. No matter how much help he could get, it slipped through his fingers before he could grasp it. 

The door clicked open, and Scar stumbled back to standing with his cane. He plastered on a smile, as the ‘helper’ as they had been calling them opened the door for Grian. At first, they had tried calling them a teacher, it was exactly what they were, but the term sent enough shivers down Grian’s spine they replaced it with in the first month. 

Grian slipped out of the lonely classroom, dark bruises underneath his eyes as he left. The helper offered their best smile to Scar before closing the door behind them. Scar furrowed his brow, stepping into pace with the other. Grian instinctively slowed matching Scar’s limping form.

“You look rough.” Scar muttered, eyes scanning over the other. “Did you sleep?”

Grian nodded, fingers gripping the straps of his bag tightly. 

Scar frowned, grabbing his wrist carefully, “You have bags under your eyes deep enough I can see them through the eyepatch.” 

Grian shrank, “I slept.”

“Last night?”

“Two nights ago.” 

“You can’t just not sleep, Gri.”

“I tried.” He huffed, “I swear I did.”

Scar sighed, as they stopped by the long stretch of lockers. The brunet leaned against the blue lockers, watching the glass doors behind them. He could see the snow that blanketed the ground outside. He glanced back to his friend whose red sweater was hanging off his shoulders. He frowned, “Did you bring a jacket?”

Grian blinked, looking at the other. Scar had already bundled up, his father’s old brown jacket wrapped around his tan sweater. He even had the black gloves Cleo had made him wear that morning still on. 

“I–I don’t have a jacket.” Grian muttered, staring at the inside of his locker. 

Scar frowned, “I’ll add it to the list,” he sighed. The list, of course, was a record of all things that were needed to get Grian settled back with his siblings. It was ever growing, never ceasing. No matter how many times they scratched one of the things off, three more would be added. 

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“You need a jacket.” Scar rebutted, easily, “Come on, we’ll see if the lost and found has anything. You’re not getting hypothermia again.” He had to bite back at the images that flooded his mind of that night last year. When Grian had shown up in clothes that weren’t even his own, having walked all the way from Evo to Impulse’s home. 

“I don’t want to wear someone else’s clothes.” Grian said, firmly. And for once, Scar couldn’t disagree with him, he only nodded. 

“Alright,” He sighed, “We’ll just walk fast. But you have to say if you get cold,” he was suddenly reminded of the conversation he’d overheard from Martyn and Pearl almost a year ago. When the two had listed off the many things they would need to keep track of. People who had suffered from hypothermia and frostbite in the past were more susceptible to it in the future, that had been Martyn’s words, repeated from some doctor. “I’ll give you my jacket.”

Grian frowned, but agreed to his terms. The walk home was quiet, the simple tap of his cane against the sidewalk filling the air rather than any conversation. Their shoes crunched in the snow, and Scar was sure he could see Grian shivering at times, but the other stayed silent. The blond only continued to hug himself as his breaths turned visible in the frosty air. 

They turned down the neighborhood street, seeing the blue and red lights that sprinkled Cub’s house. Cub’s home was one of the few along the street that had dressed up for the holidays. Impulse and Skizz had done their best with the few materials they still had, Impulse and Tango  jerry-rigging a few in their backyard. Doc’s home was carefully crafted in colors, each meticulously planned and prepped, while his neighbors, Ren, had thrown about their decorations. And to top it all off, Mumbo’s home was ransacked with his fathers’ inventions and Christmas cheer. 

Overall, the street looked festive in bright colors and snowy carpet. It was just the few homes that sat dull and useless between the pops of color that stood out. Pearl hadn’t had the time nor the energy to get any of their decorations out. Scar’s own family was too busy with paperwork and arguments to even bother. Tango’s home was dreary as it normally was, even with the boy’s inventing ways. Gem and Etho’s home stood barren and restless, just like Zed’s lonely little cottage. 

As they turned onto the driveway up to Pearl’s porch, Scar could just barely see the flip of curtains behind the window. He furrowed his brow, before jumping only slightly, as Jimmy ran out of the front door to Grian’s side. 

Scar stared blankly at the two, worry settling deep into his stomach as he watched helplessly. Pearl had told him about the fight. She had told him exactly what Jimmy had said, and explained exactly why Grian couldn’t be allowed to just sweep it under the rug. While he argued to allow him to make his own decisions, he couldn’t help but feel the anger rise up in his lungs as he watched the two interact. 

“Grian! Grian! You gotta come! You gotta–hurry–come on, come on!” Jimmy beckoned, pulling on the older’s arm as he began to tug Grian back down the steps. The blond didn’t react, only following after the younger as he all but dragged him away. 

“Jimmy.” Scar called, his voice holding a certain edge he wasn’t even sure he had. 

The younger boy stopped, staring up at Scar with wide eyes, “Uh—hi, Scar.”

Scar frowned, taking his cane and dropping it back down into the hole in the snow he’d already made. “Jim, as much as I’m sure you have a wonderful plan here, I think we’re just going to go on inside, okay?”

“No!” Jimmy shouted quickly, “No–you don’t–you don’t understand!” He jumped back up the steps to Scar’s level, “We’ve gotta go–we got to make a snowman.”

“I–what?”

“He’s never made a snowman before, Scar!” Jimmy pouted, gesturing to his brother. Grian for his part, simply stared back at the two. “So we have to!”

“Are you forgetting something?” Scar asked, wondering if it was the right thing to do to remind the boy of his spat with his brother. 

“Nope! I’ve got everything we need–carrot, hat, buttons, all the essentials.” Jimmy grinned, before jutting back into the house and pulling out a cardboard box. “See?”

Scar glanced between the box in his hands and Grian. He sighed, turning to the blond, “Well? What do you think?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you want to or not?” Scar revised. Grian didn’t answer immediately, his mind running away from itself to complete each and every calculation. When the boy didn’t reply after a few seconds, Scar sighed, and pulled himself away from the porch. He slipped into the house, and quickly gathered as many things as he could. 

When he came back out, Grian was still gaping at the question. Jimmy watched him with confusion as he moved about the house and back out onto the porch. Finally, the boy seemed to catch on and nodded, stepping back. 

“Come here.” Scar muttered, pulling the blond away from the steps and onto the platform. He wrapped the green coat around his sweater, before tossing the scarf around his neck. They were all Pearl’s clothes, the only thing he could think would fit him well enough would be his own twins. “Give me your hands.”

He fitted the gloves onto his shaky fingers, before turning back to Jimmy, “Only for a little bit–then we’re going back inside.”

Jimmy grinned, racing down the steps, shouting after them. They followed after him, stopping near the center of the yard. At least from here Scar would be able to supervise in case anything went wrong. The other day had to have been some kind of mistake, Jimmy would never do something to hurt his brother on purpose, Scar just knew it. 

“Right here. Right here.” Jimmy called, pointing to the spot. He looked back up at Grian, “We’ve got to roll a giant snowball right here.” 

“We have to what?”

Jimmy didn’t explain it a second time. Instead, he was off. He gathered as much snow as he could in his little hands, packing it down together into the stiff ball. It was only as big as his head when he placed it back down onto the ground, only then did he start rolling it around the yard. 

“What–what is he doing?” Grian muttered.

“Rolling a giant snowball.” Scar answered, easily with a laugh. Grian glared at him, and Scar was sure if he was feeling better, it would have earned him an elbow to the gut as well. “He’s building a snowman, which you’re supposed to be helping with by the way.”

“I don’t know what that is.” 

“You’ve never seen a snowman before?” Scar asked, dumbfounded, “Not even when you were with…” He didn’t say the name that laid on the tip of his tongue. 

Grian shook his head, “No. We didn’t do a lot in the snow. I don’t think he liked the cold weather. Always got really irritated—but red shows up better in white.” Grian muttered to himself as he picked on foot off the ground. He inspected the bottom of his shoe, before standing up straight, “Something about trails.”

Scar frowned, rather wanting to forget that information. Instead he was bound by knowledge, as most things were with Grian. “It’s something kids do—or anyone really, building men out of snow, fun I guess. I used to do it with Cub. There was an old story about children building one that eventually came to life when they put a top hat on it.”

Scar didn’t miss the way Grian shivered at that. He chose to ignore it, watching as Jimmy struggled to push the snowball over once again. The younger let out a series of grunts and huffs as pushed it over once more, before he began to pat down the excess snow. 

“Come on, Grian! You’ve gotta help!” 

“Okay, okay!” Grian called back, quickly moving to Jimmy’s side. Scar watched as Jimmy carefully coaxed his brother into patting the ball out smoothly. Once Jimmy was happy with Grian’s effort, he dropped to the ground and began building up the snowy foundations. 

“We’re going to have the biggest, bestest snowman on the block!” Jimmy announced. 

“Jim, I’m pretty sure you’ll have the only snowman on the block.” Scar laughed, looking around the street to find no signs of fellow snowmen. 

Jimmy rolled his eyes, “Only ‘cause they’re not made yet! Scott said he was gonna make one. And Sausage and Katherine, too!” He popped up from the ground, “We’ve got to make his body now.”

Jimmy quickly shooed Grian away from the snow ball, “We’ve got to make a second one, just not as big.” He instructed, gathering the snow in his hands to create the miniature version. Then he placed it on the ground, and began to roll it back and forth again. Once he was happy with the size, he gestured for his brother to try.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” Jimmy nodded, “Just push it across the snow, it’s really sticky so it just clumps up all together.”

Scar smirked, as Grian placed both of his gloved hands on the snowball. He was glad that this was as innocent as it had seemed. He had not seen Pearl that stressed at lunch since Grian’s first day of school. But here he was, watching Jimmy and Grian get along just fine—where did Grian go?

Scar blinked, looking back at where he’d just seen the two. 

Jimmy giggled to himself, while sputtering out words. Beside him a pile of broken snow was moving—that was Grian.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Grian asked, worriedly, from the pile of snow below him. His clothes were covered in white clumps and dust sprinkled through his hair. He raised an arm out for help which Scar quickly took. 

“No, no it definitely wasn’t!” Jimmy giggled. “You’re not supposed to push that hard!”

Scar frowned, helping the blond stand again. He wouldn’t get hypothermia again from that, would he? He knew it was easier for the boy now, but just a little tumble in the snow wouldn’t hurt, right? Maybe they should go inside just in case?

“Well you didn’t say that!” Grian huffed, crossing his arms as he glared at the younger. 

“I didn’t think you’d fall in!” Jimmy laughed. 

“It’s not that funny.” Grian mumbled, scrunching up his nose. 

“It is a little bit.” 

Were they still fighting? Had Scar fallen for Jimmy's little game? Allowing his brother to play out in the snow where he was unfamiliar. Jimmy had to have known they didn’t have the proper clothes for Grian to be out in the snow just yet, right? And the boy had to know about the dangers of second-hypothermia.

“It’s cold.” Grian pouted.

“Well, yeah. It’s snow. It’s gonna be cold.” Jimmy rolled his eyes, “That’s why we have to bundle up and everything! ‘S why Scar got you Pearl’s old coat. Which you could’ve taken this morning but…”

“It’s hers.” 

“She’s not gonna care if you use it, dummy.”

“I’m not a dummy.”

“You just fell into a pile of snow on your bum, I think you’re a little bit of a—”

Scar didn’t see it happen, but he did hear it, because while his mind ran a million miles a minute his ears heard the thud that came from beside him. He looked down and there was Jimmy, right in the middle of the pile of snow the two had worked to build beforehand. Scar blinked, looking over to the other who stared back at the younger, grinning—they were both grinning. 

And then they were laughing. 

Both of them…laughing.

“You pushed me!” Jimmy shouted, the fake pout on his lips as he giggled. 

“You tricked me.” Grian defended, quickly. 

“I didn’t trick you! You just didn’t listen!” 

“I can’t read!” Grian smirked, leaning over the younger.

Jimmy laughed louder, “It’s not about reading, you big-headed–” The younger cut himself off by throwing a handful of snow at the other’s face. Grian yelped, jumping back and brushing the snow from his cheeks and hair. 

“Jimmy!”

“That’s what you get!”

Scar could only watch in shock as Grian started chasing Jimmy—chasing his little brother across their yard. 

His throat felt dry. He felt as if he might drop his cane at that moment. 

Because there was Grian–wonderful Grian, who could barely make eye-contact, couldn’t handle shouting, couldn’t play games, couldn’t turn the lights out, couldn’t be alone–playing.

Playing in a lovely snowball fight with his younger brother. 

And Scar could only watch as the two raced around him for what felt like hours. He honestly wasn’t sure how long it was, how long he stood there and watched the two in amazement. He knew it was long enough for his leg to give out on him, for the pain to begin sneaking up into his body. 

But eventually, eventually, there was a snowman. 

And Scar couldn’t say it as a fact, but to him it was indeed the biggest and bestest on the block.

_________________________________________

Over the years sleeping in his childhood bedroom had become one of the many banes of Martyn’s existence. It was one of the many reasons he visited so little. 

Because when he did, he always found himself staring up at his ceiling unable to go to sleep. He could toss and turn all night, but he wouldn’t manage to catch a wink of sleep. He would listen to the soft snores that came from Jimmy’s room and the creak of the door when the cat ventured into Pearl’s. 

Some nights were worse than others.

Those few holidays he spent at home, he would lay awake and listen to the silent cries of his little sibling that had long been missing. He would hear the cries from down the hallway, but any time he slipped out to see the closed bedroom door, they would disappear. He would listen all night as his mind replayed the loud arguments down the stairwell, Pearl’s thousands of questions and Grian’s old cries. Because back then that was all the two could manage to do, cry and question every little thing. 

Sometimes he even imagined it. He would look out the darkened corner of his room and for just a split second his heart would drop as he saw that tiny frame peek around the doorframe. He would see the short blond hair that folded over wide eyes and the crooked grin that matched his face. It felt mocking in a way. 

Martyn spent so long desperately working to find his little sibling and every time he came home he was reminded of it, reminded of every failed attempt by the figment of his own imagination and sleep-deprived mind. 

So he would drink. He would sleep on the couch. Anything to keep those shadows and those tiny voices away. 

He shouldn’t have that problem anymore, he felt like he told himself that every night. 

Grian was home–safe and sound in his old bedroom. 

But still Martyn couldn’t sleep. 

He huffed, tossing over the covers to escape his wretched bedroom. He would go downstairs, grab a cup of tea and fall asleep on the couch. It was routine. He just normally skipped this step, but after going through the hassle of getting Grian to calm down once the lights were out he really just wanted to be in bed. 

Down the hall, Martyn could see Pearl’s door cracked open just barely. Across from her door, he could see Jimmy’s door completely closed with the soft yellow from his nightlight. The bathroom door was shut, and the twins’ old room was—closed.

Martyn stopped, blinking, he looked back. 

It was closed.

That door stayed open. Grian hated when they closed it.

Martyn chewed the inside of his cheek, slipping past the old floorboards to the door. He pressed an ear against the frame, when he didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary he almost left. Maybe Pearl had shut the door after he fell asleep. Jim’s cat had taken a liking to Grian recently, and while Grian was enamoured by them Pearl didn’t want them to interrupt his sleep. 

It was the sudden gasp of air that caught Martyn off guard. He frowned, pulling back before knocking lightly on the door. He didn’t wait for an answer, worried Grian may have actually been asleep and instead cracked the door open himself. 

What he found though, was an empty bed—which all too much didn’t surprise him. Even after so long of trying to get the other used to a mattress and bedframe, he still felt more comfortable wrapped in blankets and sheets. 

No, instead what caught him off guard was the fact that Grian was sitting right next to the door. The blond stared back up at him with wide eyes, his knees held tight against his chest as his arms wrapped around them holding something tightly. 

At first, Martyn wasn’t sure what it was. Whatever he held, it shook in his hands and he held it so far away from him as if it almost scared him to touch. Which was what gave it away as soon as the light from his single window hit it. 

“Grian.” Martyn chided, his voice low and quiet. Had Jimmy been in the room he was sure the boy would’ve ooh’ed at his tone. He knelt down to the others level, scooting away so he was out of range from the other if he intended to swipe. 

Grian didn’t reply, he only sat completely still, hands shakily holding the knife in his hands. 

“Grian, buddy, I need you to put it down.” 

“Is he here?” 

Martyn blinked, he wasn’t sure if it was just exhaustion or not, but he couldn’t be sure who the other was talking about, “Is who here? What are you talking about?”

“The man.” Grian whispered, eyes darting back and forth, “Is he here?”

Martyn blinked, rubbing his eyes, “No. No one else is here except for me, you, Pearl and Jim.” He looked back to the stairwell, “Did you hear something?”

Grian shook his head tightly. 

Martyn nodded, “okay, okay. How about you go back to bed then? Give me the knife and we can both go back to bed.” He had no intention of going to bed, now, afterall. If there was something that was keeping Grian from sleeping, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew the house was safe and everyone was fine. 

Grian shook his head, vigorously, “No, no. No. No, can’t go to sleep.”

“Why not?”

Grian bit his lip before whispering, “He sees you when you’re sleeping.”

Martyn furrowed his brow, confused, “What?”

“I can’t let him see me.”

“Grian, no one can see you when you’re sleeping. Do you want to turn on the lights and check the closet again?” Martyn offered, knowing that at some point that had begun to help him.

“No.” He whined, burying his head in between his knees. 

Martyn sighed, “Okay, then how about you come downstairs with me? We can make some tea and put on a show.” He used to do that with Pearl, he remembered. Back when she was getting used to sleeping in a room by herself, no longer able to have her other half with her. “We’ll get some blankets and make it a slumber party.”

Grian peeked up from his knees, worry etched across his face, “Isn’t that where the fireplace is?”

Martyn nodded, confused, “Yeah, yeah it is. Did you have a nightmare, buddy?”

Grian shook his head again, “Do I have to give you the knife back?”

“I would appreciate it if you did.” Martyn replied, honestly, “But if you feel a bit safer with it that’s okay. You just have to promise not to use it on yourself or me.” It was a deal Martyn was sure he would take if he ended up keeping the knife with him. But as it was, he didn’t think he would. The other hated holding knives, even the ones they used for dinner. His hands would shake and often he ended up dropping them. 

Grian frowned, before he gave up and held the knife out for Martyn to take. His eyes tore away from the blade as if he was scared it would bite back at him for giving it away. Instead, Martyn took it carefully and thanked him quietly. 

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.” 

Grian and he slowly rose, before Martyn led them both down the stairs and into the living room. He quickly found his way into the kitchen after Grian settled in on the cozy chair he liked best. He placed the knife back in its place, making a mental note to find some locks for the cupboards, and a second note to tell Pearl in the morning about the whole fiasco. 

___________________________________________________________________

There was a lake just behind Etho and Gem’s home. If you took the right twists and turns in the forest, you would find the little clearing. It was a cozy spot in the middle of the forest, not too far away from a certain treehouse. Of course, the only path to get to the lake was a trodden, dirt riddled thing that winded back from their backyard. It was the only path. 

Which was why Impulse never knew about it until he met the younger of the two. Gem was obsessed with the old pathway Etho had created, she planted flowers along the side and kept the bushes preened back. And over time, it had become her own little garden that traversed into the forest where she spent most of her free time away from their tiny house. Impulse knew that Etho never liked it when Gem spent too much time at their home. 

The lake was something the siblings kept secret but shared with the hermits when they were ready. And as such, it soon became the perfect, quiet spot for an afternoon get together. Which was exactly why Impulse, Tango and Skizz were helping Gem clear the path of snow. 

The youngest of them bounded up the path, her skates attached to her hip. Most of her plants had died back due to the cold, but the snow itself created a nice border she was happy to mold into an imitation of her past garden later on. 

For now, Impulse could tell she only wanted to visit the lake to see how thick the ice had become. Gem had been skating for as long as he knew her. He remembered the old stories she told about how she got her first skates. Long story short, they were a gift from her brother. She had long wanted a pair after their first winter with the lake, and Etho had worked his butt off at the post office to earn the money to buy the pair. 

They reached the clearing soon after the trees began to dull out. Skizz laughed as Tango knocked his head against a low hanging branch dumping snow onto his boots. The boy had been too busy thinking to even see the branch in front of him. Impulse remembered the boy saying something about a new level to his game he was preparing. 

Gem hopped onto the wooden pier, looking over the ice below. She squatted down, pulling her skates from her side to replace her shoes. 

“Do you think it’s frozen through?” She called out.

“Probably.” Skizz shrugged, keeping his hands tucked in his pockets. No matter how many times Impulse told him to grab the heavier coat he hadn’t listened, although he would never admit his own discomfort for the sake of being right. “It looks like it atleast.”

“Why don’t you jump on it to test?” Tango grinned, walking up the pier towards Gem. 

“Oh, don’t you start—you know I will!” Skizz shot back.

“And if he does, then I have to drag him out. So how about ‘no’ to that one,” Impulse chuckled, as Gem rolled her eyes. She laid both blades onto the ice before standing and shooting off without much thought. He would’ve warned against it if he hadn’t known Gem had been skating for so long already. He was happy to admit she knew more about the ice than he did. 

Instead, he settled onto the pier, happy to listen to Skizz grumble about how well Gem did while Tango daydreamed about Decked Out. A long time ago Gem would’ve offered to teach them but after one too many failed attempts, they had all about given up. If they wanted to slip and slide off the ice they were well and entitled to do so, just not with sharp blades attached to their feet. 

Impulse was only half paying attention to the spins and small jumps Gem managed when he heard the squeaking shout come from behind him. Gem was in the middle of a small loop when he turned around to see Jimmy binding up the path they had just uncovered. He raised an eyebrow, nudging Skizz who sat beside him. 

“Yea–” Skizz was shouting back at Gem, clapping along before he startled at Impulse’s nudge. “What?”

Impulse pointed to the tiny figure that was running up to them. 

“I knew it! I knew you would be here!” Jimmy grinned, hopping on the balls of his feet. His yellow scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and the thick blue coat was dragging snow with him. 

“Uh, sure you did, bud.” Impulse tried to joke, looking back towards the path, “Aren’t you only supposed to come out here with somebody else, though?” It had been something Pearl decided a long time ago, after panicking one night when she arrived home and he wasn’t there. He had snuck out of the house to visit the lake all by himself. After that, he wasn’t allowed to go out on the path by himself. 

“I’m not by myself.” He blew a curl out of his eyes.

“Oh, cool!” Skizz grinned, “Where’s Pearly-pop at?”

“I’m not with Pearl, silly!” Jimmy grinned, “I’m with Grian!”

Impulse paused, his eyes scanning the break in the trees for any sign of red. That tiny sentence had his chest burning all of a sudden. Because no matter how far he looked back into the thicket of trees he couldn’t spot any other form. If Jimmy had, in fact, come out with Grian it was very likely the two had gotten separated. Which left him with thousands of scenarios playing in his head. 

Had Jimmy wandered off before Grian could catch up to him? Was the other boy lost now? Would they have to leave and spend all night looking for him? Had he panicked hearing something behind them? Maybe he had run away thinking they were being chased? The path wasn’t too well marked afterall, for someone who had never seen it before the snow would’ve covered up the dirt. Had Jimmy purposefully left him behind? Pearl had mentioned the two fighting recently.

“Uh–Jiggles,” Skizz interrupted, his voice light with the vague presence of concern creeping in. Impulse could hear the way the nickname slipped out in a panic, “where exactly did you leave him?”

Jimmy furrowed his brow, “He’s right behind me–” He turned around, only to deflate. He huffed, “I’ll be right back—don’t leave!”

“Okay…” Impulse muttered, waving back to the boy as he ran back to the path. 

“What was that about?” Tango asked, walking up to the two. 

“Jimmy brought G out.” Skizz answered, although the cheeriness was lost in his voice now.

“Oh…” Tango muttered, blinking, “Should we—”

“I don’t know.” Impulse finished for him. “Scar said they were fine, but Pearl seems pretty unsure. And I don’t even know if either one of them should be out here. Pearl doesn’t like Jimmy coming out here by himself, and I’m not sure if Grian counts as someone who can bring him out here or not.”

“He’s already here, though?” Skizz offered.

“What are you three talking about?” The sound of Gem’s voice was cut off by the sound of ice shaving from the lake below her feet. She stopped just at the edge of the lake, glaring up at the three, her hands on her hips. 

“Jimmy brought Grian out.” Impulse answered, quickly. 

Gem blinked, “And? What’s wrong with that?”

“Pearl hasn’t told you?” Tango asked.

“Told me what?”

“He and Grian got into a fight the other day.” Impulse answered.

“What?”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” Tango shrugged, “The kid’s a kid. Don’t know how he managed to go this long without blowing up, honestly. They had to have known it was coming.”

Gem shook her head, sitting on the edge of the pier, “Wait—what did he say to him?”

“Don’t know.” Skizz shrugged, “She wouldn’t say any details. Just that they had some squabble and G hasn’t been sleeping since.” 

“That bad?” Gem grimaced, 

“Whatever it was–it can’t have been good.” Tango sighed, “Should we just let them chill? At least if they’re here we can keep an eye on them.”

Impulse frowned, watching as Jimmy finally appeared back into the path with Grian trailing behind him. The older blond was looking everywhere, seemingly distracted by every little sound and movement. He was tugged along by Jimmy who had a careful grip of his hand leading him down the path. 

At least he wasn’t in the middle of a breakdown, Impulse sighed, but from the way his eye flickered back and forth he was close to it. 

“You three take Jimmy, I’ll see what I can get out of G.” Impulse muttered once the two were walking towards the pier. Skizz nodded beside him quickly, plastering on a smile and greeting Jimmy with his loudest laugh. 

Jimmy was quite easy to pull away from Grian, all it took was Gem offering to show her newest trick and he was running off to the opposite side of the lake. Tango and Skizz followed after them, whispering to themselves as they watched Grian’s eye flicker down to where Jimmy’s hand used to be. His hands weren’t covered by mittens or gloves, and the barest tint of white was starting to sprout over his fingers. Impulse was sure he was missing his brother’s war hand on his own rather than the lack of guidance, because Grian was already beginning to wander. 

The blond would shuffle closer to the treeline only to scuttle backwards once his feet hit roots. He couldn’t stare at the bark of the trees for too long, but Impulse could tell he was searching the branches for any feathered friends. That was something he had learned about Grian over the year, his innate ability to find birds and befriend them. 

Impulse let him explore the snow-covered clearing for a moment longer, only intervening if he reached too close to the icy edge. 

“Watch out for the ice.” 

“Hm?” 

“I said watch out for the ice.”

Grian nodded, sharply, taking a swift step backwards. Impulse’s frown deepened. Sure, back when he was first getting to know the other, Grian was silent and kept to himself. But he had grown out of that some, he was quick-witted when he wanted to be and if Scar was around he spared no expense of his come-backs. A quiet Grian was a wrong Grian.

“Are you alright?” Impulse asked, settling back down on the edge of the pier. Grian looked back over to him and nodded again. “Did you get lost?”

He shook his head, “There was a birdnest.” 

“Oh.”

“I wanted to make sure—” he cut himself off. “It was…It had been destroyed. Someone–somebody tore it from the tree…” He shivered, “I wanted to make sure–”

“G, I’m sure the birds are okay.” 

Grian nodded, quietly. Impulse patted the spot next to him on the pier once the boy had looked in his direction. Grian moved quickly, sitting beside him. It was the perfect view of Gem and the others. He could see Gem trying to ease Jimmy onto the ice without any skates attached to his feet. The boy was slipping over the frozen lake, laughing to himself when he almost fell. Each time Gem was quick to catch him and pull him back up to his feet. 

“Are you two alright?” Impulse asked, hoping the question wouldn’t put off the other any more. Grian didn’t tend to answer the questions truthfully when he was asked, which was why they had resorted to a specific questioning method over the past couple of months. 

Have you eaten today?

Did you sleep last night?

Are you scared?

Can you focus on breathing?

But there were still times that the broadest question was the only possible one to fit the situation. Atleast, that’s what Impulse found. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Grian asked, he sounded almost confused by the question. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his hands between them for warmth. 

“Pearl said you and Jim had a fight.” Impulse answered without hesitation. Skizz and Tango would have beat around the bush, but he knew the blond would do better knowing why they were asking rather than finding out for himself. 

Grian blinked, his shoulders flinching backwards. “No!” He shouted, head snapping over to look at Impulse with that single wide eye. He pulled his hands back, waving them around as if he wanted to shove the thought away. “No. I wouldn’t—I would never–I didn’t hurt him.” 

Impulse sighed, cursing his choice of words before he held out a hand to stop the other. “I meant like a little shouting match, G. I know you wouldn’t do that–and I know he wouldn’t either.”

Grian let out a shaky breath nodding, but his lips still quivered with denial, “No. No, we didn’t.”

“It’s okay if you did, you know.” Impulse interrupted, “it happens. The amount of times I get into it with Skizz per day would be enough to fill a hand!” He laughed, “We’re okay afterwards, but sometimes things get said that we wish hadn’t—”

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Impulse sighed, “Scar said the two of you seemed fine, but Pearl said you haven’t been sleeping. Anything you want to talk about?”

“I don’t like that people keep talking about me.”

Impulse chuckled, “Yeah, I doubt I’d like it either. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Grian bit his lip, staring at the blue tinted ice below them. His casted reflection warped in ripples of snow and cracking ice. “He apologized.”

“Doesn’t mean that it takes it away.”

“Do you think he’s still mad at me?” Grian whispered, staring at his reflection. “Am I still doing it wrong?”

“I think you’re doing the best you can.”

“But what if I’m not?” Grian whispered back, and even though Jimmy was far away on the other side of the lake, Impulse got the feeling they were hiding their conversation. “What if I’m still bad? Martyn keeps saying Sam was bad, but I did just as much as Sam, didn’t I? And since I’ve been here, well—Jimmy proved it, I haven’t exactly done anything good either.”

Impulse blinked, furrowing his brow. He looked between Grian’s worried face and Jimmy’s bobbing head as he flew through the ice. “Are we still talking about Jimmy?”

Grian’s eye flickered between Impulse and Jimmy, and for a second Impulse thought he saw the boy look up to the sky. 

Impulse shook his head, the mention of a certain boy sending boulders rolling in his stomach. He shivered, thinking back to a night that happened long enough ago to have forgotten and yet it still played in his mind each night. He had been driving with Skizz and Tango, searching desperately for Scar out in those woods. 

They hadn’t been expecting to find the boy hobbling down the road, his side a bloody mess and foot ruined. They hadn’t expected to have to drag the boy from the ditch and into the car only for him to pause and call out. They hadn’t expected the second head to pop up from the ditch. At the time the face had two eyes, and Impulse hated the fact that it was one of the only times he would ever see the two bright eyes together. In fact, back then Grian had looked a lot different, but over all not much had changed. 

He was still the same scared kid, desperately trying to figure out a world that had tried to destroy him twice over. 

“You aren’t anything like Sam.” Impulse admitted, firmly, “You weren’t bad to begin with and you certainly aren’t now—and everyone knows that. You gotta understand that sometimes kids blow up over little things and it’s got nothing to do with you—they’re just trying to figure out the world as much as you are. Jimmy one time wouldn’t speak to Scar for a week because the guy accidentally stepped on his toy ranch. And he definitely does not think you are in any way bad.”

Grian nodded, solemnly, “But what will he think?”

Impulse paused, opening his mouth to speak before the question caught up to his brain. He was about to ask who he was, when Jimmy nearly slid straight into the side of the pier. Gem was right behind him, plowing her skates back to a stop before she ran into the wood. 

“Sorry!” Jimmy shouted from the ice below them where he had fallen onto his back. 

“I told you not to go too fast.” Gem rolled her eyes, before glancing back to Impulse. The question on the tip of her tongue before she stopped as Skizz and Tango followed. 

“Nice landing, Jiggles.” 

“Oh, shut up!” Jimmy huffed, pulling himself up onto the pier, “Grian! You’e gotta try it! Please? You’ll love it. Gem—Gem can you show him what you showed me?”

Gem glanced over to Impulse waiting for permission to take the older blond away. Impulse nodded, slowly. Gem sighed, offering a hand to help Grian onto the ice. “Sure.”

“Come on! Come on! Grian–Hurry!” Jimmy called, pushing his brother off of the pier and onto the ice. Gem was quick to catch the other once he slipped on the ice, pulling him back to his feet and leading the two brothers out into the lake. 

Once they were farther out, Gem started to instruct the two boys on the easiest way to stand out in the ice. Impulse wondered to himself if she would have an easier time with the two of them than she ever did with the three of them. Grian found it harder to stand still than his little brother, his feet sliding underneath him but he managed to stay upright as Gem began to skate once again. 

He was about to watch whatever trick she had prepared to distract Jimmy the first time when Skizz interrupted him. “Well?”

Impulse sighed, "Something's definitely wrong.” He crossed his arms, glancing at Skizz and Tango. “But I don’t think it’s Jimmy.”

“What do you mean?” Tango asked.

“I mean, the kid was comparing himself to Sam.” Even saying the name sent shivers down Impulse’s spine. He grimaced once the first sound left his mouth, shaking his head, “Said he was worried about being ‘as bad as him’ and what happens when someone starts thinking he is. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but there’s no way Jimmy would ever say something like that to him.”

“Pearl said there were things he was going to regret saying, but that?” Tango muttered, cringing, “There’s no way the kid would say something like that–no matter how frustrated he was.”

“So if Jimmy didn’t say it, who did?” Impulse sighed. It was the question that kept running circles in his mind. Who would’ve said that to the kid? There was no way any of the hermits would even utter something similar, but Grian didn’t speak to anyone outside of the hermits. Which left Impulse with the horrible task of scapegoating every hermit until he knew.

“You really think someone would do that?” Skizz asked, his eyes falling back to where Gem was struggling to help Grian stay on his feet. She laughed as Grian shuffled his feet back and forth along the ice. Jimmy had begun slipping across the ice without much care, he was ignoring the other two, playing his own little game. 

“I don’t want to…” Impulse kept his eyes on the figures out on the ice. 

“But something’s keeping him up at night,” Tango finished for him, “And something’s got him on edge.” The boy nodded to the three out on the ice, and Impulse could see Gem talking lowly to the other. Grian had tried to distance himself away from her even as she tried to reach out to help him. Her hands were hovering over his arms as he tried to shove back at her. 

Impulse frowned, as he strained his ears to hear what little of their conversation he could make out. 

“Careful, careful—you’re fine.” Gem tried, her voice a mix of laughter and worry. 

“How—How are you doing that?” He asked, out of breath.

Gem smiled, “Lots of practice. Okay, just push off of your foot.” He did as she said, only his foot swung out from underneath him, sending him forward. Gem yelped, grabbing his arms before he hit his head against the ice. “Not so hard. Just barely touch the ice.”

Grian frowned, gritting his teeth, before he did so once again. This time Gem kept her gloves hands situated on his arms guiding him across the ice as the blades of her skates cut through the ice backwards. 

“There you go.” 

“Grian! Grian! Look at me! Look!” Jimmy shouted across the ice, his boots sliding across thin ice before he hopped barely an inch in the air. Grian snapped over to watch, his eye wider than it had been when he almost fell. Gem thought his skin had grown a shade paler than it had been in the cold once he heard Jimmy’s screams. 

Grian sighed in relief, before grinning back at Jimmy. 

“Jimmy, please be careful!” Gem called over them both.

“Do you hear that?” Skizz asked, cutting Impulse off from his thoughts. 

“Hear what?”

Then he heard it. A sharp crack sent his stomach dropping into the water below them—because that was what it was becoming. Impulse darted to the edge of the pier spotting the thin spiderweb of cracks slowly spreading into dark cavernous edges. He looked up seeing the three still out on the ice. 

“Gem! Get out! Get off of the ice!” Tango was already shouting at the three. His voice barely raised loud enough against the wind that whipped around them. 

Impulse didn’t realize when he joined in Tango’s shouting, or when Skizz had begun to run out to the other side of the lake. He was only focused on getting the three off the ice quick enough. The cracks were spreading with each hop and twist the younger of the three took. 

Impulse could see Skizz try to reach the edge of the lake, his boots creeping onto the shaky ice layer. His added weight sent another crack along the blue, jolting him backwards from the lake. His voice hollered over the wind towards the trio, “Get off the ice! Gem! Jimmy!”

Gem was the first to hear them, her head snapping over to Skizz’s voice. He gestured wildly to the ice below them, and Impulse could see the moment Gem realized what was happening. He knew Gem had been skating for years, he knew she was well aware of the sound of racking ice. He was also well aware she had been too worried about Grian to focus on the tell-tale sound of ice melting below them. 

“Jimmy!” Gem shouted over to the youngest. Grian flinched at her voice, watching in fear as she swiveled around to spot the other. Jimmy froze at her voice, his eyes wide as he finally spotted the crack that was reaching its arms out towards him. Impulse wasn’t sure how Gem didn’t panic, his own voice going sore from shouting at them. All Impulse was able to do was watch as Gem skated over to the youngest and shoved him off the ice before the crack spread beneath his feet. 

The two landed in the snow at the bank of the lake. Gem nearly crushing the younger as she rolled over into the snowy piles. Jimmy yelped, jolting up from the ground just in time to see the lake crack beneath Grian’s shaky feet. 

Impulse flinched himself, prepared to jump into the water when Grian fell through the ice. Instead, he saw Skizz jolted forward out into the ice to grab him. 

“Go.” Impulse’s voice was quieter than he wanted it to be, he spun around to Tango pushing the other, “Go! Go!”

Tango was running with him over to the bank of the lake. There hadn’t even been a scream to alert them when Grian breached the freezing water below. It was Jimmy’s voice that broke through as he shouted his brother’s name. 

“Grian!” Gem had to pull him back from running back into the water himself. She wrapped both her arms around the boy as he struggled in her grip. “Let me go! Let me go!

Skizz was dragging Grian out of the water when they got to his side. Impulse quickly, grabbed onto the boy’s other arm pulling him out onto solid ground. 

“Grian? Grian!” Impulse called as the boy was pulled onto the bank. He dropped to the ground beside him, tapping the side of his cheek with the palm of his hand. The blond was soaked from head to toe, his hair caked around his forehead and ears.

He folded in on himself, grasping at his stomach as he was overcome with coughs and gags. His jaw rattled endlessly as he choked on water and freezing air. His whole body shook with the force of each cough as he desperately tried to claw at the stiff fabric of his jacket. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Tango panicked, the question burning a hole in Impulse’s mind because he had no idea how to answer it. 

His skin was already growing paler, and the pinkish tint on the tips of his ears were slowly turning purple. His single eye was squinted shut with wrinkles that warped the entire side of his face in pain. The coughing fit didn’t seem to stop until water leaked out from his mouth in cold droplets. 

Impulse thought he heard Skizz curse beside him, before Tango began shouting, “Gem! Get over here!”

Impulse shot a glance over to see Gem running down the shoreline, Jimmy right on her tail. He looked back to the blond in front of him, pulling him onto his side before helping him up. He felt like ice to touch, the tips of his fingers still scared and waxy, shivered, beginning their hurried tradition of turning blue. 

“We need to go.” Skizz hovered over him, his brother’s breath broken with shivers. 

Impulse nodded, “Come on.” he quickly grabbed the boy’s wrists, dragging him upwards. It took both him and Skizz to keep him upright, each taking a side. “Up, one foot in front of the other.”

“Cold—’m cold. It’s—It’s cold.” Grian muttered, his words nearly being lost within the wind. 

“Just start walking.” Skizz attempted, looking over his shoulder to see Jimmy and Gem catching up with them. Gem had paused at the pier to throw off her skates, and her regular boots back on. Jimmy was still running after them only stopped by Tango when he nearly barreled into Impulse and Skizz. 

“Grian!”

“Woah! Kid–” Tango had nearly picked him up before he could run into them, “You’ll knock them off their feet like that,” he tried to joke, but each sideways glance towards the two shared what hadn’t been said. 

“Is–Is he okay?” 

“We need to go now.” Impulse didn’t answer the boy’s question, watching as the youngest’s brother nearly toppled over in their grasp. His feet tripped over each other as they took two steps forward. 

Tango nodded, pulling ahead of the group. He made it to the break in the clearing quickly, shoving limbs and branches out of the way. Gem was right behind him already calling out for her brother. Carrying the blond was the hardest part, at some point he stopped being able to move his knees properly. His feet just dragged against the snow behind them leaving little snake marks to be filled in over night. 

He apologized for it, of course, and it took all of Impulse not to tell the boy to shut up. He did not know how much longer he could listen to the kid apologize for no longer being able to feel his legs. Skizz was better at it than he was, his brother in all but blood could at least keep up the facade of staying calm. 

“I can’t–I can’t feel,” Grian started to say, his words interrupted by shaky breaths and shivers, “my feet. I can’t–I’m sorry–why can’t I?”

“You’re fine, my man.” Skizz muttered through his teeth, “Just keep moving, almost there.”

Impulse hated when he stopped moving. It was a five minute walk between the lake and the neighborhood–or at least five minutes without stops. The blond’s feet seemed to no longer work and the harder he tried to step forward, the closer he came toppling over.

“Careful,” Skizz warned, after the boy had paused long enough for the other two to lose grip. He had nearly fallen forward into the snow, before Skizz caught him. Skizz kept a hand out in front of them from that moment on. “Almost there. Gem! How close are we?”

Gem was chewing on her lip, her head whipping each way to keep them on the path, “Close, I think! Etho, get out here!”

Jimmy was running with Tango at the front, his own tiny voice screaming out the other boy’s name as well. 

“Pulse…my hands—” Grian stared at his hands in front of him, the tips of his fingers turning a waxy blue. He tried to flex his knuckles, Impulse could tell from the strain on his face and the tension in his shaky fingers. “Hurt. It’s hurting.”

Impulse tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered at the fact that each word was accompanied by the tiniest, fog of a breath. The sentences blowing out of his mouth acted as though they’d each be his last.

“Almost there, bud.” Impulse muttered, before adding his own shout into the mix, “Etho!”

Impulse didn’t know what to expect when they reached the neighborhood. Between Gem and Jimmy’s shouts he had a sliver of hope that Etho would be able to hear them, but there was a chance he hadn’t made it back from school yet. If Etho wasn’t home, his mind supplied, they would need to figure out what to do on their own. They had to get him warm—he knew that much, but the ‘how’ was lost on him. If Doc wasn’t so far away, he might call for him.  

Grian had hypothermia once before, they all knew the risks that came with that. It left him at a greater risk for it now, his skin was still healing and they could all still see the scars that had been left behind from frostbite.

“How you holding up, G?” Skizz asked, trying to make conversation. 

“Cold—hurts…everythings all wet.” He mumbled.

Skizz tried to chuckle, but it was weak. “Yeah, yeah.”

When they finally reached a break in the forest path, Tango and Gem sprinted for the old house. Gem was still shouting her brother’s name, nearly tangling herself in the clothesline. She was halfway through the backyard garden when Etho came charging out the back door. The boy’s mask was wopsided as if he’d rushed to put it on, and his eyes darted back and forth until they landed on his sister. 

“What the hell…” He muttered under his breath before he spotted Jimmy’s little body running behind Tango. “What happened?!”

Tango nearly fell to his knees, doubling over to catch his breath. He looked over his shoulders, before spouting off in explanation, “he fell in the lake.” 

Etho blinked, looking between Gem, Tango and Jimmy—none of them were wet. Gem still had her skates held in her hands, her coat pulled halfway off in the rush. Her chin was wobbling but not from the cold. Tango was bursting with energy, his breaths haggard even as he continued to try and reroute his explanation that Etho was no longer listening to. Jimmy was turned back towards the path, his hands tangled together as he searched the break in the trees for something else. 

“Who?” Etho snapped, taking two steps at a time down from their porch.

“Grian.” Tango supplied, “They were out on the lake and it broke—he fell through. Straight through—splat! We got him out but he’s freezing—” Tango cut himself off when they spotted the other three breaking through the woodline. Etho’s eyes widened, before he cursed again under his breath. 

“Shit–okay,” He muttered, running towards the other three. Impulse let out a breath he’d been storing for too long once he saw the other. Etho scanned over the blond, pointing back towards the house. “Get him inside—now!”

Impulse nodded, he apologized under his breath as he ushered Grian to move faster. It felt wrong to force the boy to move so fast when his body slowly betrayed his every movement. Skizz helped him as he stumbled over the ditch between the thicket and the back garden. The snow created a layer of false safety between him and the ground. 

Gem looked between Grian and Etho, her eyes filled with a fear that wasn’t there a moment before, “but what about?”

Etho cut her off, “I’ll deal with it.” He snapped, swiping a hand through the air as if to say the decision was final. And Impulse understood—they would be trading one problem for another, but getting Grian inside was more important. Etho looked back to Tango and Jimmy, his body rigid as he spoke, “Tango, Jimmy, go get help—I need blankets, warm clothes, towels.”

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t you have those here?” Tango asked, quickly. 

“I can get the towels and blankets.” Etho interrupted, “What I can’t get are clothes that are going to fit him.” 

Tango frowned but nodded, already turning to head back down the neighborhood, before Jimmy stopped. 

“I’m not leaving him.” The boy demanded, stomping his foot on the ground. His eyes glaring up at Etho with an anger none of the teens had seen before. Impulse was suddenly reminded of the argument the boy had had with his brother nights beforehand. He wondered if that was how angry he had been then, too. 

Etho stalled for a moment. The boy’s hands fisted at his sides, and Impulse could see his chest rising and falling through gritted breaths, “Jimmy,” His voice lower than it had been, “You will be more help to your brother getting what I told you. The longer I stand around fighting you on this, the longer he has to deal with freezing.”

Impulse heard Skizz’s sharp breath at the tone. He even felt his own wince once he saw Jimmy’s facade of determination break. The boy’s face crumbled as he swallowed a frown, nodding. 

It was Grian that actually cut through, “H–hey—” His voice was ruined by the shakes but there was an underlying sneer to it that caught their attention, “Don’t–don’t talk to him…like that.”

Etho frowned, glancing over to the blond before nodding, “Sorry,” He muttered, before jabbing a finger back towards the street, “Just go.” The two boys split off without another word, “Get him inside.”

The stairs were another challenge, as Skizz and Impulse helped the blond up, Etho slipped inside the house with a quiet order to wait. He came back outside a second later, shoving the door open for them. His voice quieter than it had been but still demanding each move, “Set him on the couch in the living room. Skizz, there’s water on the kettle. Warm it up. Gem, go grab blankets and towels from the closets.”

Impulse helped the blond sit on the sibling’s couch. He shivered in place, rubbing his hands over his arms in an attempt for warmth. There wasn’t much to the sibling’s living room in the first place. The floors were littered with long-neck bottles and cans, drinks of which Impulse was sure were neither Etho or Gem’s. The room was a mess with trash and dirty dishes, the dining table in the adjoining room was covered in mail, papers, and whatever else the two had brought home. It seemed the living room wasn’t typically the two’s space, with nothing that screamed Gem or Etho in sight. 

Etho rounded the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room, eyes catching the tiny movements Grian made with his hands, “Hey, don’t do that–you do that you’re going to make it worse.”

Grian glared at him, confusion growing on his face. He didn’t listen, continuing to soothe his skin the only way he knew how. 

“I need you to stop–” Etho chided, “We will get you warm, but rubbing any of your skin is just going to make it worse.” Grian grimaced, wrinkling his nose. Impulse was about to ask when the other boy continued, “Help me take his shoes off.”

“Shoes?” Impulse sputtered, “Etho, he’s soaking!”

“The first thing to freeze will be his hands and feet.” Etho snapped, “I can’t do anything about his hands right now, but I can do something about the wet socks. So help me get them off of him.”

Impulse frowned, but nodded, kneeling beside the other and beginning to untie the chocolate colored boots. 

“Did his head go under the water?”

“What?”

“Did his head go under the water?!” Etho repeated, louder.

“Yes–maybe? I think so.” Impulse stuttered, pulling the heavy boots off the boy’s feet. The laces were covered in tiny icicles, and the fabric felt stiff to touch. Etho didn’t respond to his answer, only grunting before turning back to the hallway Gem had gone down.

“I need those blankets, Gem!”

“I’m trying!”

Impulse shook his head, watching as Etho chucked the boy’s soaked socks away, “I’m surprised you know what to do right now.”

“If you knew how many times Gem has fallen into that lake you wouldn’t be.”

Impulse sighed, nodding in relief, “So he’ll be okay?”

Etho frowned, eyes shifting over to look at him for only a second, “Gem never had hypothermia or frostbite beforehand.”

“I’ll—I’ll be f–fine?” Grian’s voice cut through once again, pulling Etho away from his conversation with Impulse. The other boy only nodded, stiffly, the worried glance he had sent to Impulse completely replaced with firm confidence. 

“Yes. You’ll be fine.” His reply was quick, clinical. 

“Here.” Gem landed beside them, already gathering the blankets on either side of Grian, “Blankets and towels.”

Etho nodded, grabbing the ends of the blond’s jacket and pulling it off of him. Etho barely talked as he worked, only ordering the others to help him when he needed it. Once the boy was nearly stripped of everything except his red sweater and jeans, he began to help his sister wrap blankets around him. Impulse was quickly told to help towel off any water from his hair, and the remaining drops on his hands and feet.

“Do not rub them. Just dab it on his skin.” Etho reminded, sternly. 

“Water’s ready!”

“Put it in a bottle.” Etho instructed, “Second cabinet to the left.” Skizz nodded, handing the newly filled bottle to the other. Etho handed to the blond, “Hold it to your stomach.”

Impulse looked around the room, “Should I turn the fireplace on?”

“It doesn’t work.” Etho muttered.

“I could try to fix it.”

“It hasn’t worked in years. I doubt whatever you do will help.”

“Is it gas?”

“Yes–”

“There’s another way we could light it.” Impulse stated before he could even think it over. 

Etho flinched, “I am not letting you burn my house down.”

“ –A controlled fire.” 

“No.”

“Warm water and new clothes aren’t going to do much good, Etho,” Impulse shouted back at the other, he wasn’t even sure when he had gotten so worked up. “We need something better!”

Etho glared at him, his eyes darting between the fireplace and Grian. Finally, he relented, groaning, “Fine! But if you burn my house down—”

“I’ll watch it.” Impulse muttered, moving to the kitchen to find matches. He was searching through the drawers when he heard the knock at the door. If he could find the matches and get just a smidge of the gas working he could light it manually.

“Oh for crying out—” Etho huffed, dragging himself away from the living room to the front door. Impulse heard the door open from down the hall with a sharp slam, but instead of Etho’s voice he was hearing next it was Pearl’s.

“Where’s my brother?” Her voice was dark, the one she had used that day when she first saw Grian after so many years. It sent a shiver down Impulse’s spine as he snatched the next drawer open, he let out a breath when the red box was hidden underneath the junk. 

“Did you bring the clothes?” Etho demanded, and as Impulse hurried back to the fireplace he could see both Pearl and Scar standing behind Etho at the door. Just behind the two of them were Tango and Jimmy. 

“Where is my brother, Etho?” She sneered back.

“Did you bring the clothes?!”

“Yes!” Scar’s voice cut through like a knife, Impulse could hear the crack and warble when he spoke, “Yes, we brought the clothes! Here—just…” Impulse had to bite back a wince, “where is he, Etho?”

“Living room.”

There were footsteps storming behind him as he lit the match. He turned the valve quickly, watching as the gas caught flame easily. When he turned back to the crowded living room he was met with Etho kneeling beside him and lining each of Grian’s new clothes near the fire. 

Pearl had rushed to her brother’s side, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands in her own. She was talking to him in a rushed voice, one he wasn’t sure if Grian could even follow along with—not with how his brow wrinkled in confusion. She was asking him questions, that much he could tell, but none of them were answered as Grian muttered out syllables that didn’t mean anything. 

Gem, Tango and Skizz had backed away, the three staying near the edge of the living room. Impulse wanted to join them, to get as far away from what he believed was a bomb about to explode. He wasn’t sure why but he could feel it. He could feel the way Pearl was strung so tightly that one more word and she would snap. He could see how Scar wanted to come closer but stayed away. He could see how Jimmy was shifting on his feet—and none of it painted a good sign. 

Scar’s eyes latched onto Etho as he lined the jacket and sweater they had brought over. He shook his head, his cane tapping against the floor as he moved closer to the fire, “What are you doing?” He asked it so politely, that Impulse wanted to beg Etho to not snap at the other. The kid was terrified, it was obvious, the way he swayed on his feet even with his cane to how he couldn’t take his eyes off of Grian. “We need to get him out of those clothes.”

Etho shook his head, “And into another pair of freezing clothes. No. We wait for these to warm.”

Scar’s look hardened, “We can’t just leave him like that.”

“And we can’t just put him into another pair of either. You brought these clothes over in the snow, however cold those are,” Etho gestured over to Grian, “I promise you these are just as cold.”

Impulse saw as Scar’s jaw locked, how the boy wanted to fight back but said nothing instead. 

“Why was he even out there?” Pearl jutted in.

“Jimmy and he came out while Gem was skating.” Skizz answered quickly, already knowing what would happen if they all stayed quiet. “She had asked us to come with.”

Pearl snapped over to her little brother, who flinched, “Jimmy, you know you’re not supposed to go out there without somebody!”

Jimmy sputtered, “I–but—I was with Grian!”

“Grian doesn’t count.” Pearl argued.

Impulse saw the moment Jimmy’s shoulders stiffened, how his brow furrowed, “Why doesn’t he count?”

“He’s not an adult.” Pearl’s voice was as quick as a whip and seemed to hit Jimmy just as hard. The boy glared at her, that same look in his eyes that he had glared down Etho with—only this time it didn’t break. 

“Neither are you!” He shouted back, “You’re the same age as he is! Why do you get to act all great and powerful! You keep treating him like he’s a child! He’s not a kid—”

“Jimmy, that’s enough!” 

“Enough because you said so, or enough because you have no comeback?”

“Kid–” Tango tried to interject.

“We will talk about this later.” Pearl sneered.

“Stop acting like an adult!” Jimmy bellowed out, “You’re not an adult!”

“I am older than you and that’s enough!”

“Enough! Out of both of you!” Etho’s voice shook the room, and both siblings flinched back at the sound, “Now right now your brother is freezing on my couch in wet clothes and neither of you two seem to be in  much of a rush to help. So either you both stop acting like children or I will kick both of you out and call Martyn instead! Am I clear?!” 

Pearl glared at Etho, for a moment it seemed she might fight back on his words. Her hands were still wrapped tightly around Grian’s shivering fingers, and it was Grian that pulled her away from her staring match with the other. The smaller twin tugged on her wrist, his brow set with frustration even as his body shook. 

Pearl frowned, but relented, “Okay. Yes. Clear.”

Scar’s cane tapped forward once as he shuffled behind Etho. His voice carried a level of seriousness Impulse wasn’t used to hearing from him, “What do we do?”

Etho huffed, pacing the edge of the hearth, “There’s not a lot more we can—” He rambled on, but Impulse could see that it was the only answer Scar needed, because the other boy was already moving. He limped towards where Impulse stood with Tango and Skizz, his shoulders slouched forward even as he spoke calmly.

“You can go home.” 

“What?” Skizz hissed out, “We’re not leaving—not right now.”

“There’s nothing else we can do. Believe me, this could get messy and you don’t want to see that.” 

“And you do?” Tango huffed, crossing his arms. Impulse couldn’t blame him, Scar was squeamish at the best of times. He doubted the boy would hold his own without help.

Scar grimaced, “I have seen it before. You don’t have to.” 

“He’s right.” Gem muttered, her arms were wrapped around his chest. She tried to keep her eyes away from the scene in front of them but it was hard not to focus on. Etho was gathering the clothes from the fireplace, talking to Pearl and Grian in a hushed voice. “You should go home.”

“Gem, we can’t just leave the kid—” Skizz argued.

“You’re not leaving him alone.” Scar finished, “How many cooks are you going to want in the pot, anyway?”

“It’s cooks in the kitchen, Scar.” Impulse sighed, his laughter drained out even from Scar’s ridiculous mispronunciation. Etho was leading Pearl and Grian down a hallway, opening a door to a bathroom where he could change. Jimmy could only stand motionless at the edge of the room, watching it all with a tight frown. 

Tango sighed, grabbing Skizz by the wrist and pulling him towards the door, about halfway there Skizz got the message and grumbled to himself the rest of the way. He called out for Impulse as he reached the threshold, but the other stayed back for a moment longer. “Could I talk to you for a second, Scar?” 

Scar raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“Outside?” Impulse added, pointed to the backdoor. Scar frowned, but followed him out. They stood on the back porch, through the thin walls they could still hear Etho, Pearl and Gem talking. If they could hear their conversation, Impulse had no doubt that the three could hear their own. He whispered, “You said G and Jimmy were fighting?”

“I didn’t say that. Pearl did.” Scar clarified, easily. 

“So you don’t believe it?”

“I don’t not believe it.” Scar shrugged, “Haven’t seen anything to prove one way or the other.” Scar lowered himself down onto the steps of the porch, his knees cracking as he moved. Impulse could see the pain on his face as he crouched, before he sighed once he was off his feet. He looked back at Impulse over his shoulder, “Why?”

Impulse joined him, brushing off the last of the snow, “I talked to him a little before they went out on the lake with Gem. At first, I thought he was talking about Jimmy but the more I think about it…it doesn't really fit.”

Scar furrowed his brow, “What’d he say?”

“He talked about being bad.” Impulse muttered, fiddling with his hands in his lap, “He was all worried about making somebody mad because he was acting ‘bad’” Impulse rolled his eyes, “He—he said that he was just as bad as Sam. And—that just…well that doesn’t seem like something he would get from Jimmy.”

Scar flinched at the name, his body going rigid before he forced himself to relax. His next words were spoken through his teeth, “He—he said that?” Impulse nodded, and Scar let out a heavy breath, “No, no he wouldn’t have gotten that from Jim.”

Impulse swallowed, “You don’t think someone else would’ve told him that, do you?” Impulse waited for Scar to answer, but the boy just stared straight ahead. Something had crossed his eyes in that moment that Impulse hadn’t seen before. He waited a second longer, “Scar?”

Scar hummed, pressing down on his cane to stand up. He took a step off the porch, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. 

“Scar?”

“I need to think about something.” 

“Where are you going?!” Impulse shouted as Scar started walking away. He limped down the pathway, ignoring Impulse’s calls until he reached the sidewalk of the neighborhood. “Scar!”

__________________________________________________________

Waking up at five am for her first shift of the day was normally no big deal for Pearl. Jimmy would be in bed by nine at the latest, and once Grian became a part of her routine, that time grew from nine to ten. The extra hour accounted for any hiccups they ran into along the way. And Martyn was self-sufficient enough to never need her. Meaning she could get enough sleep to wake up early for a six o’clock shift at the post office. 

Normally, of course, everything was fine. Unfortunately, the past weeks had been anything but normal. Which led to where she was, trudging out of bed at one am because she couldn’t shake a bad feeling. 

It took her thirty minutes of relentless tossing and turning before she gave up and decided to head downstairs for a drink. She had checked on Jimmy on her way down, peeking her head in to see the boy sound asleep. 

She quietly made her way down the stairs, about to flick the light on when she saw the form splayed out across their couch. She frowned, her brother’s snores were loud enough that she wondered how Jimmy could even sleep. She grabbed a blanket tossing it over Martyn’s body before slipping into the kitchen.

She flicked the light on, making her way to the cupboard when she felt the tiniest breeze pass her ankles. She paused, cold air hitting her feet and the sound of bugs chirping in the bushes filled her ears. The backdoor had been cracked open and the porchlight was on. Pearl swallowed, her hand flinching for the knives she kept locked away in a drawer. Her hand fumbled on the handle, tugging the drawer open and forgetting the lock. It fought back with each pull, until she recognized a tuft of hair that fluted through the window. 

Pearl paused, barely brushing past the door until she was sure of what she’d seen. And there in fact, stood her other brother. 

Grian was standing at the edge of their tiny patio, his bare feet hanging off the edge. He was still in his pajamas, the only protection against the cold he wore was the jacket that they had brought over to Etho’s that afternoon. Pearl nearly cursed to herself, about to chide Grian for sneaking out of the house at night in the cold, when she noticed his frantic glances. 

He was jutting his head each way, his eye dancing around the trees of their backyard searching for something. He barely ever looked away from the sky, something Pearl found strange. Grian was always worried about what was within his reach, the things closer to the ground, there were very few times she caught him worried about the sky. 

“Grian? Buddy,” Pearl sighed, earning a jump from the other. She winced, watching as he tried to regain his composure, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

Grian swallowed, his hands twisting together. He pointed to the treeline, before looking back at Pearl, “I just–I needed to—they’re not…”

“Whatever it is can wait until morning.” Pearl interrupted, trying to usher him inside, “Come on.” 

Grian shook his head, taking a sharp step away from her, “No. No, you don’t—you don’t understand. They’re not here.”

“It’s late. We should both be in bed right now, and you should definitely not be out here after this afternoon.” Pearl huffed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to guide him inside. 

“No!” He shoved her off, “Don’t you see? Pearl, look!” He gestured to their backyard, “Tell me you see it, right?”

Pearl sighed, she moved to his side overlooking their yard. The tall pines brushed against their fence, shading most of the yard during the day and casting a great shadow at night. The backyard was still full of Jimmy’s toys, having thrown them about when he was called in for dinner. She could see the square hole of snow that was being dug in the corner, something Grian had found himself invested in for the past few days. But there was nothing that was cause for any of the concern Grian had. 

“I don’t see anything, Gri.” 

Grian frowned, pointing to the branches overhanging their fence, “Look closer.” 

Pearl was about to indulge him, sparing a short glance to the tree limbs, but the way he swayed on his feet told her enough. “Griba,” She tried to sound firm, but the worry in her voice took hold, “What did we say about the hallucinations?”

Grian flinched, and Pearl was prepared for an argument. A stark claim that he wasn’t seeing things, when they all knew it wasn’t true. He had been seeing things ever since he lost his eye, Scar could attest to that. It had been explained to her at one point or another, something about eye trauma having drastic side effects. But it didn’t matter how many times they explained it to the boy himself, he still wouldn’t believe it. 

“They’re not real.” Pearl continued, “There is nothing out there that will hurt you.” She never truly knew what it was he was seeing during these moments. During breakfast one day he claimed that the waffle on his plate had gotten up and walked away, but then immediately afterwards he’d said a floating eye wouldn’t leave him alone. One thing was certain though, whatever he saw always left him irritable or afraid. 

“I am not hallucinating.” Grian huffed, she could imagine the steam puffing out of his ears. “I know what I’m seeing Pearl.” he spun back to the yard, gesturing widely, “It’s–It’s not there!”

Pearl sighed, “What? What is not there? Tell me.”

“The birds!” 

Pearl paused, “The birds.”

“Yes!” Her brother stomped his foot down. His frustration outweighed any fear he once had. He glared at her while he explained, eye still searching the sky for any sign of feathered creatures, “The birds aren’t here! They haven’t been here! I haven’t heard them. I haven’t seen them.”

He was shouting so loudly Pearl worried he might wake the entire neighborhood. But his ramblings continued, “That means—” He shuttered out a breath, “That means he’s taking them.”

Pearl was shaken out of her thoughts as the boy grabbed both of her shoulders. His cheeks looked paler than they had when he’d been dragged out of that lake. She really needed to get him inside before he collapsed. “He’s taking them, Pearl.”

Atleast, Pearl thought, it was easy to know who he was talking about. She sighed, carefully taking the boy’s hands away from her shoulders to hold them out in front of them. “Grian.”

The boy shook his head, and when the kitchen light bled onto the porch enough, she could make out the tears that were starting to form in his eye. She couldn’t help but bite back a curse, as her brother nearly fell apart in front of her. She held his wrists out in front of them before his head lolled forward and he rested his forehead on his fists. 

“He’s—he’s taking them, Pearl,” He choked out, “and–and he’s killing them.”

She let go of his wrists, moving to cup his cheeks in her hands. They were as cold as they looked, and she distantly wondered how long he’d been out before she’d found him. She was sure Martyn would have stopped him, but with the older man was now passed out on the couch. He didn’t stand as  much of a barricade. 

“Grian,” She whispered, pulling his face away from his fists to look at her. She smiled at him, before asking gently, “Where is Sam?”

Grian blinked, “What?”

“Where is Sam?” Pearl asked again, wiping his eye with her thumb. His bandages were growing wet either from tears or from snow she couldn’t tell, but she was sure they would need a change soon. Changing the bandages of his face was not something she looked forward to, the way his eye socket sat empty and scarred was something that kept her up at night. Still, she focused, “Do you remember?”

It had been something they tried to keep secret from him for the longest time, but soon realized that not knowing was just as bad as knowing for him. Martyn had been the one to explain everything to him when it was all said and done. Now it served as a way to call the blond back to reality, something he repeated every day without fail to Pearl in the mornings before breakfast. 

Grian stuttered out his answer, “He’s–he’s out.”

Pearl shook her head, “No. He’s in an institution getting the help he needs.”

“No—no! I saw it.” Grian snapped, pulling away from her. He jabbed a finger into his chest, before pointing out towards the treeline, “There—There was a bird's nest it–” He froze for a moment, “ –he took them. And he’s killed them. Pearl, he always killed them.”

Pearl sighed, running a hand down her face, “Grian.” 

“It’s true!” He spat out, “He–I watched! And I saw…I saw that nest. There were no birds! Where are they?”

Her brother’s obsession with the birds had always been something of a mystery to her. She barely understood his connection with the creatures but it was there nonetheless. It was important to him to know the health and whereabouts of his feathered friends as much as it was for Scar to see Jellie every morning. They had all long stopped trying to break him out of the habit, but she couldn’t help but think this was a bit too far. 

And while she knew it was a terrible thing to do, she couldn’t think of another way to get her brother inside. So she did the only thing that made sense, “I know where the birds are.”

Grian blinked, and for a split moment she saw hope appear on his face. His eye lit up and he bounced on the balls of his feet, “You do?”

Pearl tried to bite back a grimace, “I do. And I’ll tell you, but you have to come inside, okay?” She added, gently, “I’ll tell you once we’re both inside. Can you do that?”

Grian jutted a look back to the trees before turning to the house, he nodded sharply. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Good.” Pearl praised, shooing him inside before he could change his mind. She clicked the door shut behind him, cutting the cool air from entering their home anymore. She shivered, nodding to the little sitting area in their kitchen, “Go sit.”

He immediately slid into the seat he had claimed his own since his arrival. He leaned over the windowsill, trying his best to get a view of the trees outside from his seat. She sighed, pouring two cups of milk, before sitting down and handing one off. Grian stared at the drink for a second longer before he took a sip. 

“Where are they?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning for this?”

Grian nodded, before pausing. He stared at the cup in front of him, tapping his fingers along the edge of the mug, “I can’t sleep.”

Pearl raised an eyebrow, “Because of the birds?”

Grian nodded, slowly. 

“It’s called migration.” Pearl started, wondering if she could spot any recognition crossing the boy’s face. When she saw none, she sighed, “Migration?”

“I don’t know what that is.” 

Pearl gritted her teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose, “They really taught you nothing at that school.” She shook it off, any annoyance and anger washing away, “Migration is something birds do in the winter…or well most birds I think. Not all of them. It’s probably why you haven’t seen as many as you normally do.”

“Basically, when it gets too cold for the birds they fly south. It’s warmer down there and they like the temperature better. It’s to keep them safe and healthy.” 

“But you said some birds don’t.” 

“I did.” Pearl smirked, nothing could get past him, “Some birds just stay put. They build nests and cozy up for the winter. You don’t see them because of the cold. No one has taken them. Nothing bad happened, they’re just staying inside their homes for warmth—much like you should be doing.”

“But I haven’t seen any.”

Pearl rubbed her eyes, “Then how about we go by False’s in the morning. You can see the birds there, yeah? I’m sure she’d do a much better job at explaining migration to you than me.” Grian nodded. Pearl smirked, “Okay, but if we do that, then you actually have to go to bed, Gri.”

“Okay, okay.” He blew a strand of hair out of his face, slipping out of his seat.

Pearl let out a sigh as she watched him slink out of the kitchen, “What am I going to do?”

___________________________________________________________

Thinking was ultimately not Scar’s strong suit, he must admit. It was easier to strike first without a second thought. A single step forward, even at some old school in the middle of a wood encrusted town, was still a step forward no matter how painful. A break in his stride was hesitation and hesitation led to thinking, something he was not good at. Thinking meant that the fear could creep in no matter how small. 

Even if he hadn’t waved off Impulse’s concern, he was sure the familiar feeling would still be stretching across his limbs. He wasn’t scared, he was just hesitant, because the thought that had bloomed in his mind that afternoon wasn’t a pleasant one. It was one he had been shoving off for months. 

But spending the past night in his bed, staring up at his ceiling, Scar was finally at the end of his wits. Now he stood in the center of Hermitville as the town bustled with the night’s festivities. The side streets of the square had been converted into Christmas markets for the weekend. Tiny tents, in a rainbow of colors, lined the sidewalks all filled with treats, toys, and gifts. His own sister’s tent was a bit short-handed at the moment, manned only by his brother and Etho. 

Main street’s roadmap had been chopped in half for the parade, barricades stopping cars and trucks from crossing through the center. The buildings were aglow with a dull orange light that billowed out from the windows. The only other lights were stringed across the bannisters and rooftops in colorful blinking sparks. 

If the year had been like any other, Scar imagined he would’ve found himself stuffed in his sister’s tent. He would’ve loved to help sell a few gifts to the keen residents all looking for last minute presents that seemed overly thoughtful. But, nothing about his year had been normal, and so Scar found himself waiting near the center of the square. His eyes peeled for a certain overly dressed boy.

He spotted him halfway up the sidewalk, rocking on his feet as he watched his fathers put the finishing touches on the tree. His hair was dusted with snow making him match one of his fathers quite nicely. 

Scar sighed, cane tapping along newly cleaned sidewalk to the other’s side. He slipped on a smile, punching out his best salesman voice, “Mumbo Jumbo!” He called, earning a sharp jump from the other, “Just the wonderful man I wanted to see!”

Mumbo frowned, clutching his jacket in his fist, “Oh no.”

Scar faltered for only a second, “Whatever could you mean: oh no!”

“I mean, whatever you’re selling I don’t want, Scar.” Mumbo smirked, glancing at the other from the corners of his eyes. 

Scar huffed, rolling his eyes, “I’m not trying to sell you anything!”

“Then you want something.” Mumbo stated, matter-of-factly.

“Can’t a man just hang out with his friends without wanting something?!” 

Mumbo smiled, “Someone else maybe but you? No.”

Scar glared at him, crossing his arms, “Okay, fine. I’ll cut the crap.”

“Thank you.”

Scar sighed, looking around the square, “Have you seen anyone talking to Grian recently? Like not Hermit.” 

Mumbo raised an eyebrow, “Scar,” He muttered, a chuckle erupting from him. “Gri barely talks to the Hermits.”

It was true, Grian rarely ever spoke to anyone besides his siblings, Mumbo and Scar. Any other interaction came from the few times he attended a hermit meeting or when they managed to run into him during school. Mumbo was right to laugh at him, the question was inherently silly, but still, “I know.” He grumbled, “I just—I’m worried about him.”

Mumbo must’ve noticed his change in voice, because he softened. His shoulders slouched and he turned away from the tree to speak to Scar privately. He patted Scar’s shoulder, ushering them away from the tree. “Come on,” He muttered, silently offering a walk along the sidewalk as more residents began to trickle into the square. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Scar ran a hand through his hair, “He’s not sleeping! He’s barely eating, he’s panicking half the time I talk to him and any other time he’s just out of it. Pearl hasn’t been able to—”

“Hold on, hold on.” Mumbo stopped him, “Scar. You’re talking about Grian. That’s all he does.”

Scar grimaced at the boy’s attempt at a joke. He wasn’t entirely sure if Mumbo had meant it as one, but either way, he cringed, “I mean more than usual.”

The square was slowly becoming more popular, families, visitors and Hermits were all fighting for spots near the parade barricade. A few small families trickled down the lanes of Christmas markets, some finally reaching the end of shops and settling into their spots near the roads. Scar glanced around at all the unfamiliar faces, his stomach curdling inside him, there was only so much he knew about each and every one of them. How long until the crowd became too much to keep track of? How long until he lost count off of who was who? How long until someone could sneak by without a second thought?

He grimaced, looking back at Mumbo, he whispered, “I think someone’s messing with him.”

This time it was Mumbo’s turn to look offended, the boy glaring back at him, “Scar.” 

“I know.” Scar defended, “I know, but I’m serious, Mumbo!” He jutted his arm out, “He was talking yesterday—he said some stuff that couldn’t have come from himself. He–he said he was as bad as—as Sam.” He spat the name out, “He wanted to know if someone would be mad at him because he was wrong—doesn’t that sound…I don’t know—Off?”

“Scar.” Mumbo chided, crossing his arms.

“That doesn’t sound like something he would think, Mumbo. I’m telling you something else is going on!”

“But someone picking on him?” Mumbo sneered, the thought disgusted him, Scar could tell. “That’s a bit of a jump, don’t you think?” he sighed, pinching his nose, “I mean, didn’t he and Jimmy get into it a bit ago?”

“Why is everyone so focused on that?” Scar muttered, “That’s not it. Okay? I know Grian. And I know Jim. It’s not that.”

“But another bully? After everything he went through with Sam, do you really think someone would go that low?”

“That’s why I need your help. It’s a theory,” Scar shrugged, “but I don’t know how to test a theory.”

Mumbo’s mouth formed a thin line, before he offered a deadpan answer, “You need to conduct an experiment that tests your hypothesis.” 

“How do we do that?”

Mumbo huffed, turning on his heels to see the newly crowded square, “Well, you want to know if someone’s messing with him. Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. I mean look around, the whole town’s out here. If someone is, he’s going to have some reaction to seeing them.”

Scar chewed on the inside of his cheek, “it’s a loud, crowded parade, there’s quite a few things to freak him out.” 

And if that wasn’t enough, there was no telling how he’d react to being out so late. One of the last times he remembered seeing the moon so high in the sky he had been running for his life through a forest.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Mumbo cut his thoughts off, sighing. 

Scar frowned, glancing around at the scene. He sighed, “No…fine.” He nodded towards the end of the road, “Come on, they’re over by the North Pole set up. Jim’s been set on seeing Santa tonight.”

He heard Mumbo’s stifled chuckle as they walked towards the tiny family of three that had huddled near the barricades of the road. Jimmy was bouncing up and down on the lowest rung of the barricade. His scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck pinned with his sheriff star to stay in place. He had leaned over the barricade almost completely, desperately trying to get  a peek at the parade that hid behind the buildings. 

Behind him Pearl stood,  eyeing the crowd and watching Jimmy. Every time Jimmy nearly fell over the fence, her arms would reach out to catch him, only to back away once he settled down. Her regular post satchel was filled with tissue paper and wrappers, possibly from the Christmas markets. She stood firmly next to Grian, who seemed to be stuck in place, amazed by the sights. With newly acquired jacket wrapped around him, he kept his hands stuffed into the pockets as he burrowed into his own scarf. 

It felt strange seeing Grian out of his almost cartoonish dresscode. The boy could always be seen in his red sweater and black jeans. It was something he found comfort in and getting him to change out of that would be like pulling off a limb. So with a closet to rival Mumbo’s, they had bought him about a dozen of the same sweater. But there he stood in a red sweater, dawned with a new brown jacket, matched with a green scarf and earmuffs. 

“Jimmy, get off the fence!” Pearl scolded, grabbing the boy’s sleeve once he tilted too far. 

“But I can’t see!” 

“That’s because they haven’t started yet. You are literally at the very front.”

“How much longer anyway!” Jimmy whined, leaning off the barricade while his fingers gripped the rungs. Scar smiled, the parade was probably one of Jimmy’s favorite parts of Christmas. Each year the kid had been at the front of the crowd without fail. It was a tradition he kept to like a law. Pearl and he would watch the parade while downing hot chocolate, before heading over to the North Pole set to see Santa. 

“A few more minutes,” Pearl muttered, looking at the time on her watch before her attention swiveled around to Grian. The older blond was burrowed deeper into his scarf and jacket, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. His eyes continued to flicker between Pearl, the crowd, and the buildings across the road. She frowned, whispering to Grian in a voice Scar had to strain to hear, “Grian, you okay?”

Grian’s immediate answer told Scar enough, “Mhm. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“If you need, Martyn can take you home, okay?” Pearl offered, clasping a hand on his shoulder. Scar frowned, waiting a moment before he announced his presence. There was no sense in scaring the other more by showing up behind him unannounced. 

“I know.” Grian muttered. Pearl nodded, her eyes scanning him over before she noticed the other two boys. She smiled, a look of relief passing over her, and Scar could’ve sworn he saw her shoulders relax. She tapped Grian on the arm, pointing in their direction. 

Scar saw the moment Grian recognized them both, his eye lighting up as he grinned. “Scar! Mumbo!” 

The brunet opened his mouth to greet the other before he was enveloped in a hug. Grian’s arms were already crushing him by the time he chortled out a hello. Still, he wrapped his own arms around the smaller, remembering how perfectly they fit together. “Well, hello there!”

Grian pulled away a moment later, fingers still clasped tightly around the fabric of his coat. For a second longer Grian stared at him, his eye reading something across the features of his face as if it would tell him something. Scar had no idea what he was looking for, but whatever he found sufficed, because he turned to Mumbo next in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hey, mate.” Mumbo laughed as he returned the hug. 

Scar could tell Mumbo needed it, they way the other relaxed as if finally having his best friend in his arms healed the years of disappearance. It took longer for Grian to pull away from Mumbo, but once he did, he was rattling on in circles. 

“Did you see my coat? I got a new coat! Look!” He flitted out the pockets of his jacket, showing the red plaid interior, “I even got a new scarf, too!”

Mumbo laughed, a ring of pity it had only heard by Scar, “That’s super neat, mate.”

“I know! I’ve never had a coat of my own like this!” 

Scar looked back to Pearl, finding her chewing on her fingernails as she watched him. “Been a good day I take it?”

Pearl startled at his voice, sighing, “Yeah.” Grian’s good days were a lot like this afterall—all smiles and chirps of happiness. It was as if his brain just shut off all his memories other than the ones he’d gained recently. Other days, it was as if his brain had shut off entirely, becoming a cheerful mess. Those were the worst to Scar, because while—for however long it lasted—-Grian was ‘normal’, it always meant the breakdown would be ugly. 

“Where’s Martyn?”

“He went to grab hot chocolate.” Pearl answered, quickly, never taking her eyes off of Grian’s exuberant explanation of their shopping spree. “I forgot it.”

“We can’t do the parade without hot chocolate!” Jimmy shouted from behind them, still hanging off the barricades, “It’s the rules!” 

“Of course, of course! I would expect nothing less, little man.” Scar grinned at the younger, “And how is the great Sheriff doing?”

Jimmy hopped off the fence, bounding up to Scar, “We went shopping this morning and I got all sorts of new clothes! And–And today’s the day, Scar!”

“What day would that be?” 

Pearl rolled her eyes as her brother began his tangent of explaining, “It’s the day I get to tell Santa the news! We’re gonna do it after the parade. I’m gonna go up and tell him he was wrong. He said Grian wouldn’t come back and he couldn’t get me him for Christmas! Well, guess who’s here!”

Scar blinked, “Oh,” He looked over to Pearl who shrugged. “Well, sounds like you’ve got that planned out.”

“He’s been telling me about his plan all day,” Pearl muttered, “He’s been asking that poor guy playing Santa to bring Grian home for years. Eventually, I had to tell the guy to break the news to him, didn’t realize he’d take it to heart. He still insisted on asking every year since, and now well…he’s set on this—”

“Revenge.” Jimmy interrupted. 

Scar nodded, slowly. Grian was still speaking to Mumbo, he had eased up since they arrived, finally able to focus some. He still flinched when the crowd rolled a bit too loudly, but he managed to keep his eye on Mumbo for the most part. Scar rounded behind him, leaning in to ask, “How are you doing?”

Grian paused, “I’m okay. Promise.”

Scar nodded, glancing over to Mumbo with the same uncertain expression. Scar pushed further, “You excited?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t really know why we’re here.”

“They didn’t tell you?” Mumbo cut in.

“Pearl asked if I wanted to go to the parade.” Grian explained, “But then Jimmy said I had to go because it’s tradition or something.”

Scar sighed, realizing the problem, “And you don’t know what a parade is.”

Grian grinned, popping up once on his toes, “Nope!”

“Well, uh…” Scar tried, searching for a way to explain, “Well a parade is…it’s a…”

“A parade is a line of cars or floats that follow each other in an orderly fashion.” Mumbo elicitated  professionally, the words falling easily from his mouth. He pointed to the road that was blocked off, “Tonight, this parade will follow down that road. A float is basically a platform connected to a car or truck that’s decorated for a certain theme. It's a celebration of sorts.”

Grian took in the information like a starving man, his eye wide as he listened to each word. He nodded along, mouthing certain words when Mumbo said them. Scar was quietly celebrating to himself that he had not been the one to explain it to Grian. 

“What he said, basically.” Scar chuckled, “My sister worked on one of the floats this year. You remember her, right? Cleo. She helped the Art Society make it this year… It’ll probably make more sense when you see it.”

“Like migration?” 

Scar paused, his brow furrowed, before he felt a tug on his sleeve. Pearl’s gaze hardened as she whispered, “I’ll explain it later.”

“It’s starting! It’s starting!” Jimmy shouted, jumping on his heels. He hopped off the fence, rushing up to Pearl’s side, “Where’s Martyn? We need hot chocolate!”

“I’m here!” Pearl let out a breath as Martyn’s voice called over the crowd of heads. Scar could see Martyn’s green coat sleeve sticking up from the crowd behind them. The oldest politely shoving his way through, a tray of hot chocolate in his hands. He muttered apologies as he went, “I’m sorry, excuse me. I’m here, hush up Jim.”

Martyn nodded at the two new arrivals once he saw the two, handing over a hot chocolate to Jimmy before ushering back to his spot. “Didn’t realize you two were here, would’ve grabbed you some.”

“It’s fine, Martyn.” Mumbo hummed, unbothered as Martyn handed Grian a cup gently. 

“Thank you,” Pearl whispered to her older brother as he handed her her own. 

He smiled, “No problem.” He left the four, finding his spot next to Jimmy, easily, “Alright, buddy, what are we looking at here?”

“You ready to see a parade?” Scar asked, nodding to the space on the other side of Martyn. Grian stared at the opening for a moment, before slowly nodding. Scar followed him up to the spot, settling in for the colorful show, Mumbo and Pearl just behind them. 

“It’s starting!” Jimmy hollered as the first police car began to round the corner. The flashing lights mixed with the stringed greens and reds that lined that street. The sirens had been replaced by the bells and the soft music of christmas carols. 

The cars were shortly followed by a small group of boys that looked to be about Jimmy’s age. The boys were led by an older man holding a long flag pole, beside him was a boy shouldering his own flag pole. He had bright orange hair and grinned once he saw Jimmy on the barricade. 

Scar huffed out a laugh, recognizing the boy at the front of the scouts. He nudged Grian in the side, pointing to the boy, “One of Jimmy’s oldest friends.”

“Hi Fwhip!” Jimmy shouted at the same time. At the same time the rest of the boy scouts filtered into their group, marching down the road. Jimmy hopped up onto the bannister, “Scott! Hey, Scott! Look!”

Grian raised an eyebrow, “He knows a lot of them?”

“A bunch of the boys in his grade are in the boy scouts. He tried to, just didn’t do very well on the overnight camping trips.” Mumbo explained, earning a short nod from the blond.

The boy scouts followed the line down the road, many running amok trying to see their families and friends. Very few of the boys actually stayed within their designated area, Scott marching along the route with a pride in his chest that Scar found laughable. The boy had always taken himself so seriously, previously announcing he would run for student council president when Xisuma graduated. He would be hard to beat, Scar had to admit, but Fwhip was a good competitor. 

Jimmy continued to wave, obnoxiously to his friends even as they marched out of sight farther down the line. A loud crash gave way to the next group, followed by the rumbling of drums and thunderous footsteps. “And here they come—”

The marching band followed, as Scar smirked, “Look out for Skizz and Impulse–no doubt they’re going to try and spot us.” Just as he assumed it was easy to spot the two brothers marching at the outer banks of the band. The two grinned, waving shortly before moving back to their instruments. 

“Where are the floats?” Grian asked.

“They’re coming.” Scar muttered, leaning on the barricade. He nodded to the corner where the school’s float slowly moved round the corner. It wasn’t the best decorated, but that was only because half the hermits who worked on it had other obligations. Still their student council dawned the platform, red sacks full at their waists. Joe’s green jacket nearly covered his regular blue shirt, paired with the little red sack at his waist. One of his hands was covered by the familiar blue puppet, its tiny hands waving back at onlookers. His other hand dug into the red pouch, before throwing out candy to the younger kids. Xisuma wore his own red Santa hat, tossing candy with Keralis, who had dressed all in green. The only council member still missing was Cleo.

Jimmy grabbed at the flying candy as best he could, hoarding it into his pockets. The rest of the floats continued. Cleo and Ren donned the Art Society's float; followed by the building club, where Gem stood with a few of the other Hermit builders on the float made—to show off their latest creations; and finally the redstoners’ float where Doc, Cub, and Tango had pulled out every creation they had.

Soon the night sky had lit up with sparklers and fireworks. Grian flinched when the first firework went off, and Scar watched as Mumbo settled a hand on his shoulder. There wasn’t a whole lot else they could do, but soon the awe of the experience overwhelmed the noise. 

“Woah, how are they doing that?”

“Magic, probably.” Scar shrugged.

“It’s redstone, Scar.” Mumbo glared, lightheartedly.

“Redstone. Magic, all the same to me.” Scar shrugged, grinning up at the taller.

“He’s here! He’s here! Look!” Jimmy shouted, nearly barreling into Martyn as he pushed him to the side to get a better look, “He’s coming!”

“Who?” Grian asked, leaning over the barricade to see whatever it was his little sibling had seen. Scar laughed as Grian’s eye filled with wonder at the thought of who might round the corner. He wondered what the boy’s reaction would be to seeing the big man in red. Or atleast, their local old guy that had gotten paid for the job this year. In his head, he could imagine the grin on his face once he was able to experience what he thought was a childhood necessity. 

He was wrong, however, because there was no wondrous grin on his face. There was no misty confusion in his eye. There was no excitement bouncing off his fingers. There was barely even a well-concealed lack of recognition. No–Grian knew who this was–that much Scar was sure of, because the moment the final car turned the corner, Grian had bolted. 

“Grian!” Pearl’s voice was the first to scream over the crowd as her brother darted away. Scar hadn’t been able to see anything more than the boy’s skin grow pale for a second before his feet were moving. In one moment, Grian was right beside him watching the parade as anybody else, the next he was running—running as if his life depended on it. 

Martyn whipped around when he heard Pearl’s shout, his eyes blowing wide as he saw the tail end of Grian’s scarf before he disappeared in the crowd. “Grian!” Martyn boomed over the audience, but he was already running after him the moment the word left his mouth. “Excuse me—sorry—excuse me.”

“What the heck happened?” Mumbo stuttered out, darting between where Grian had just been standing and where he’d gone. 

“I don’t know, but I think that was as close to a sign as any.” Scar sneered, pushing off the barricade. He limped forward to Pearl, pointing to a confused Jimmy, “Stay with him, we’ll go check on Martyn and Grian.” 

“I—What—what even set him off?”

“We’re about to find out.” Scar muttered, already pushing past the crowd of residents that had blocked them in. Mumbo followed behind him, he was sure the taller was slowing himself to keep pace with Scar. Even without his limp and cane, Mumbo was taller with longer legs than him. “Go.” He nodded, “See if you can find them, I’m behind you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“The faster we find him in the crowd the better.” 

Mumbo swallowed, but nodded before he was off. Scar could only hope one of the others had better luck than him at finding people. Still he pushed his feet as fast as he could, remembering the ringing of a whistle in the back of his mind. It was just like that, that’s all it was, a lap around the gym and he’d be done—just one more lap. 

“Grian!”

__________________________________________________

Joel’s night had been almost perfect. It wasn’t his first date with Lizzie in person but it was certainly one of the more important ones in his books. He had done everything right, even abided by Lizzie’s strange rules. They kept a low profile. He never made a big deal out of anything. Even stayed away from the crowds, by grabbing dinner at the food trucks on the square before heading into the market. 

There was no need to worry about his little brother because he was off with the rest of the boy scouts and no need to worry about any pestering Hermits either. Atleast, he had thought that much. 

He and Lizzie were just about to reach their spot at the end of the parade line. It was the least crowded area, and they had reached it just in time to see the first police cars come through once they were done in the markets. That was until someone barreled into him knocking him flat on the bum in the snow. 

“What the heck!” Joel grumbled, snapping his gaze up to see a dazed Grian across from him. Lizzie stared at the two in disbelief, quickly grabbing Joel’s hand and pulling him up before reaching out to Grian. 

Joel knew the bond between them was strong, he had seen it during the first few weeks of meeting Lizzie in person. It reminded him a lot of Pearl and Jimmy, the way she hovered over him when she got the chance and was quick to backtalk anything said about him. He had even asked her about it once, her answer had been exactly what he thought it would be. They were siblings in all but blood in her book, and she would not see anything happen to him after everything he had done for her—what exactly that meant he wasn’t sure. 

“Grian?” She asked, brushing the snow off the shorter’s shoulders as she helped him up, “What in the world are you doing?”

“I need to—he saw—I saw him. He’s here. I need to leave. I need to go. He’s here—please—” Grian jolted in Lizzie’s grip, trying his best to struggle free. Joel shook off the last of the snow, taking a careful step forward to the two. 

“G, calm down.” He started, scanning over the other for injuries. He looked alright, if not for the pale and tight skin that clung to his bones. Even a year later and they couldn’t get him to eat more—Joel thought to himself. “Grian, you need to calm down, mate. What the heck is going on?”

Grian shook his head, trembling in Lizzie’s arms, but it wasn’t from the cold. There were tears crawling out of his eyes, and before long Joel knew it would be a storm. He clenched his teeth, glancing at Lizzie once as he rambled, “I’ve got—I’ve got to go. He’s seen me. He’s here. I can’t—”

Lizzie’s frown deepened, and she turned her attention back to the younger. She clasped her hands around his cheeks, pulling him to look her in the eyes, “Grian, what are you talking about?”

Grian sobbed, his forehead landing on her shoulder as she hugged him. “I can’t—please. Let me go.”

“We’re not letting you go until you tell us what you’re running from.” Joel threatened once Grian’s eye met his own from over Lizzie’s shoulder. He buried himself back into her, hiding. 

“I don’t know–”

“You don’t know who you were running from?” Joel pressed, already darting his gaze around the edge of the crowd. They weren’t too far out from the main groups of people watching the parade. If Grian had run out from there, whoever was chasing him wouldn’t be far behind. They wouldn’t have much of a fight either. Joel could see just about every head in the crowd and none of them seemed to be moving in their direction, but that just meant whoever was was good at hiding. Something Joel did not want to think about. 

“He’s here! I know he’s here! I saw him. He’s going to be mad. I didn’t do good. He’s going to be so mad…” Grian broke down, as Lizzie tried to shush him. She was looking herself, too, holding Grian close as she kept her eyes on the crowd. 

“Who, Grian?” She asked.

Joel cursed under his breath when he didn’t see anyone after he’d scanned the crowd a third time. He stepped forward, guarding Lizzie and Grian behind him. He held an arm out behind him, slowly backing away from the crowd. If they could get away from the square they might be able to calm Grian down enough for an explanation. 

“I need something to work with, G.” Joel whispered behind him, hoping the urgency in his voice bled through. 

They all knew Sam was in an institution, somewhere upstate where he couldn’t get anywhere near Grian or Lizzie anymore. But it wasn’t Sam who worried Joel—because they had also all known about a certain body that had never been recovered. A body they thought was dead but might not have been. If One was still alive as the police had suggested multiple times, Joel would be damned if he let the guy get close ever again.

“Grian.” Lizzie’s voice was level as she spoke, “I need you to listen to me. You need to focus. What were you doing here? Just before you ran into Joel and me, what were you doing?”

He couldn’t see the two behind him, too focused on the crowd, but he could hear as Grian let out a shaky breath. “Parade.”

“Okay, and what about the parade? Did you see something–someone?” 

The hermits wouldn’t have just left Grian alone, would they? He knew that many of them had worked hard on the floats and many of them planned to participate in the parade. But leaving Grian by himself? That was just stupid.

“Breathe,” Lizzie instructed, “Did you see someone?”

“Red. Lots of red.” 

Joel nodded, as Lizzie repeated the information as if he hadn’t already heard it. He scanned the crowd, red—he was looking for red. Everyone was wearing red—it’s Christmas! He gritted his teeth, “I need more than that.”

“Can you give me something else?” Lizzie asked behind him, using a voice she reserved only for Grian. Not even Hermes could get that voice out of her and he had tried. 

“Beard. He has a white beard.” Grian stated firmly. He was coming back to himself, that much Joel could tell. 

“Lots of red, white beard.” Joel repeated under his breath, “Lots of red, white beard.”

“You’re doing great, we’re just going to calm down, okay?” Lizzie continued, exaggerating her breaths for him, “Joel’s looking, see? He’s looking for whoever you saw. If he sees them, he’s going to tell us, okay?”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” Joel muttered, slowly turning back to the two. Lizzie smiled, nodding and mouthing a thank you. 

“You remember Joel, right?” Lizzie tried to laugh, pulling Joel’s sleeve closer to her and Grian. The blond stared at him for a moment before nodding silently. He could see where he was still crying, wiping his eye with the sleeve of his coat over and over again until it had become icy. “I’ve told you about. I’ve told you about him for as long as I’ve known him.”

Grian smiled, rubbing his eye. “Boyfriend Joel.”

Lizzie hummed, excitedly, “Exactly! Joel is a Hermit. Same as Scar, and Mumbo, and Pearl and everyone else. And since Joel is right here,” Lizzie tugged on his coat once again, “That must mean we’re with the Hermits as well. So there’s no Sam.”

“I didn’t see Sam.” Grian spat out, glaring.

Lizzie didn’t seem to take any offence, “Well, good. Do you know who you saw?” He was silent again, glaring up at her. Joel huffed, the guy’s mood swings were still something he had to get used to. He was still scanning the crowd for anyone fitting his description as they spoke. How stupid could the Hermits get to bring Grian to this anyway!

“Who were you with?” Joel asked, quickly.

“Joel.” Lizzie chided, but Grian was able to answer him. 

“Pearl. Scar. Mumbo.” 

“God—those absolute…” He cut himself off, running a hand down his face. “They just let you run off?”

“Joel, I don’t think they just let him run off.” Lizzie huffed.

“Well, they didn’t exactly do a good job at keeping him in one place.” 

“Joel.”

“They brought him somewhere they should’ve known he’d react to.” 

“They can’t just keep him…” Lizzie froze the words about to leave her, replaced for another when she met Grian’s eyes, “stuck somewhere.”

“I’m not saying they should.” Joel snapped, “I’m saying they should’ve done more to protect him. What would’ve happened if we weren’t here? He just keeps running.” Joel sighed, pacing the snow, he turned back to the younger, “Sorry.”

Grian shook his head, he stayed silent watching Joel with fascination. 

Joel huffed, “I’m going to find Martyn and them. Stay here.” 

“I’m going to take him to the markets, it’s quieter there.”

Joel nodded, “Fine, just stay put. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Joel!”

“I know! Lots of red, white beard. I’ll be on the look out.” Joel shouted back, but he was already rushing back to the crowd of parade-goers. It wasn’t a description, about as vivid as a five year olds drawing in crayons would be. About half the crowd fit Grian’s half-hearted description and none of them looked to be concerned at all about the eloping teenager. Still he kept looking as he searched for Martyn. 

He had a few choice words for the guy when he found him. How had he even managed to lose the guy? Bringing him to the parade was like bringing him into a minefield, it was asking for trouble. Sure, the boy deserved to see the parade and to have a nice night with the rest of them, but he couldn’t scratch the feeling that this was all a terrible idea from the beginning. 

He huffed, Martyn would have been up at the front, Jimmy was adamant about a close spot to the parade each year. He brushed past as many residents as he could, earning a few scoffs and rude comments as he passed.

He was about to cut off another man blocking his view when he heard a name being shouted over the crowd. 

“Grian!” 

Although it didn’t sound like Martyn, Joel still spun off and started towards the voice. He nearly ran face first into Mumbo as the boy rushed past the crowd. “Mumbo.” 

“Joel? What—What are you doing?” Mumbo asked, blinking between Joel and something past him. Mumbo shook his head, “No, nevermind–I’ve got to go. See you later—”

“Wait.” Joel grabbed his arm before he ran off again, “You’re looking for Grian, right?”

Mumbo stopped, looking him over and nodding, “Yeah, how did you—”

“He’s with Lizzie.” 

“Oh, thank go—”

“Mumbo, why’d you stop?” Scar stumbled over, heaving as he nearly poured himself over his cane. 

“Joel found him.” Mumbo said, moving to the other’s side to help him 

“He’s at the markets with Lizzie.” Joel huffed, nodding to the tents that lined the streets, “Where’s Martyn, shouldn’t he be looking for his brother?”

“He ran off ahead of us. I can grab him,” Mumbo muttered, calling out the older boy’s name. 

“Is he alright?” Scar asked, his body still half-way slumped over his cane.

“Bout as fine as a guy running away from someone could be.” Joel muttered, “Had to calm him down before he could even give us a description of who was chasing him.”

“Chasing him? No one was chasing him–except us.” Scar clarified, “What did he say?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, “Red–lots of it. And a white beard.” He saw Scar blink, confused. He was about to dig deeper when Mumbo came back with Martyn in tow. The older boy was already glaring at him, looking as though he might fight the next person he saw. “Ah, well, look who it is. Whose brilliant idea was it to bring him here, after all?”

“Watch it, Joel.” Martyn snapped, brushing past the shorter as they walked towards the markets. Joel glared at the guy, waiting beside Scar as the two started down the lanes of tents. It wouldn’t be long till they found Lizzie and Grian, and Joel felt no obligation to follow after the detective. 

“They offered to let him stay back, you know.” Scar interrupted his thoughts. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cause he’d take up the offer to stay home alone.” Joel rolled his eyes. 

“There doing the best they can.” 

“I know,” Joel sighed, crossing his arms. They could see from where they were standing as Lizzie and Grian met with Mumbo and Martyn. Martyn wrapped Grian in a quick hug before thanking Lizzie. Mumbo was a bit slower, speaking to Grian quietly before he ever acknowledged Lizzie. “But when he came running up to us, he was afraid. I don’t mean panic attacks from the crowds and noise. I mean he was running from something. He was terrified of staying here—that doesn’t come from a one-off instance. That was a fear that had been festering.”

“Festering…” Scar mumbled, glancing back to the group reunion in front of them, “Red and white beard, huh?”

Joel nodded, “It mean something to you?”

“It might.” Scar hummed, “And you didn’t see anyone else there?”

Joel frowned, his resolve hardened, “Scar. I made sure they were safe. There was no one else there. I saw no one.”

Scar huffed, “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about.”

______________________________________________

“Pearl, why are you keeping a tree inside?” Grian asked, staring at the green thistle that laid in the middle of the living room. It was splayed out across the floor spreading tiny needles into the carpet. He had only come down from his room to grab a snack, but Pearl’s new floral companion had caught him mid walk. 

She was leaning over a circular plastic stand, beside her a fuzzy lump of fabric curled over her feet. There were tons of boxes spread across the couch and floor, all of which held even more tinier boxes. Pearl glanced up once she heard his voice, “Oh, I’m just…I thought it was about time I got the tree up. I don’t normally have time with school and work, but since Martyn’s been home, I thought I might actually get around to it this year.”

“Turning the house into a forest?” Grian asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Pearl frowned, “No. Putting up the Christmas decorations, the tree is just a classic piece of the festive puzzle.”

Grian raised an eyebrow, kicking the stump of the tree, “To kill a tree and display it in your house?”

“It’s not a real tree, Griba.” Pearl sighed, pulling the fuzzy fabric around the stand to hide it. “Well, it can be I guess, but that’s too much of a hassle for me. Makes a right mess.” 

“But why?” Grian muttered.

Pearl opened her mouth to answer before she froze up, “I’m not actually sure. We just put the presents underneath the tree, I’ve never asked why before.” Grian nodded, his prior objective forgotten as he slipped past the boxes and sat on the couch. Pearl smiled, “Want to help?”

“I guess?”

“Here,” She pushed a larger box filled with smaller boxes, fabrics and tissue paper, “You can pull the stuff out of the boxes and I’ll put them up.”

Grian nodded, pulling out a large belt of bells. He cringed at the sound, “This is like what we did for Halloween. And for those other holidays, too.” 

He remembered when Martyn and Jimmy had brought out all the boxes of Halloween decor. He rather liked how the house looked before they put everything up. Walking out of his room to Jimmy in that green mask had nearly landed the younger boy with a black eye. 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Pearl shrugged, taking the bells from him, her own nose crinkling at the noise. Grian looked back into the box, his fingers brushing against something soft. He picked the soft fabric up, running a hand down the velvet sides. He furrowed his brow again, holding it up for Pearl to see.

“Why do you have socks put away?” 

Pearl laughed, taking the green sock in her hands, “They’re stockings. We hang them over the fireplace—and again I’m not really sure why. But each of us has one, here, look.” She knelt down beside the box, pulling out a slightly smaller purple sock with grey fuzz wrapped around the opening. She handed it over and Grian could see the small embroidered name on the side denoting his twin. 

She pulled out the next sock, an even smaller blue one, with white fur. Once again the name was embedded into the felt, his little brother even added his own flare at the edges. Pearl smiled at the socks, handing them over to Grian. 

He looked over the three, brushing his fingers against the fur. Pearl had said they each had their own, right? Martyn’s was the largest, his twin’s the middle and Jimmy’s the smallest. Which left…he glanced back to his sister.

She stared back at him blankly for a moment, her smile slowly tilting into a frown. She stuttered, “Oh, um…yours is—its in here. Just give me two seconds,” She pulled out the tiny boxes, stacking them up on the coffee table. Grian tried to list every item she released from the box, a mental catalog of everything. He glanced back to the box, how deep was this container? 

“Pearl,” he started, slowly, when another moment passed and Pearl had not found it. 

“No, no, just—just hold on. I’ll find it.” She stopped him, moving to another box and unpacking it as well. He frowned, flitting the stockings through his fingers. It would make sense if they no longer had it, he told himself. Years had passed since the last time he would’ve been in the same room as his siblings for the holiday. He doubted they ever thought they’d see him again. So why on earth would they keep such a silly thing?

“Pearl, really…it’s fine.” He whispered, silently hoping his sister didn’t hear him and continued looking. 

“I found it!” 

He snapped his head up. She was holding a tiny stocking in her hands, barely the size of her hands. It was smaller than his little brother’s but it was undoubtedly his own. She sat down beside him, delicately holding the stocking in her hands. She held it out for him, he set the other stockings down trading with his twin. She laid it in his palms as if it might break on impact. 

It was old, frayed at the ends. The red fabric had faded over the years turning a slightly pink color. The fuzz around the edges had been torn and clumped with dust and dirt from disuse. His name was still etched into the back of the stocking, his other name, at least. 

He frowned, tracing the X on the back with his finger. “You kept it?”

Pearl nodded, “Of course we did. Maybe that’s why I never got this stuff out after a while. I couldn’t really stand looking at it.” Grian hummed, picking the grime out as if he was grooming it, “Do you remember the day we got them?”

Grian looked up at her, he shook his head, “No? Do you?”

“Bits and pieces.” She shrugged, “Martyn remembers it best. I’ve heard the story from him a lot, so I think I’m certified to repeat it.” She smiled, tapping the edges of the stocking, “We got matching ones when we were kids. We were five, Martyn was eleven. He had seen all the stories, pictures and videos of houses decorated up for Christmas. He saw how much love everyone had for it and he wanted to give it to us. So as one of his very many acts of rebellion against our parents, he went out and bought three stockings.”

“Socks.” Grian corrected, looking over the sock in front of him. It was different from the others, the fuzz was nothing more than glued on, the fabric the same as that he put on his own feet. 

“Socks.” Pearl confirmed. “He bought three pairs, and said that it was a safety measure in case something happened. Me and you got matching pairs, your’s red and mine purple. He brought them home, fixed them up and gave them to us.”

“Did we put them on the fireplace?”

Pearl shook her head, “No, that was the thing.” She sighed, leaning into the couch, “Christmas was some religious-thing and coming from a family of Watchers, they weren’t very kind to any conflicting ideas.”

“Oh,” Grian whispered.

“We put them up in secret.” Pearl nudged him, earning a huff of laughter. “Martyn taught us how to be pretty sneaky. We had a secret corner of our room set up and everything. And according to Martyn’s story, you created the fake fireplace out of old blocks from his toy sets you stole.” Grian snorted, Pearl smiled, “He’s the one that kept it. After everything happened, when he finally got us real stockings. He said we weren’t allowed to get rid of it. Jimmy tried to once, he thought it was one of Martyn’s old socks. He caught him, and that was the first time Jimmy heard the story.”

“He made you keep it?”

“Made us keep it? You make it sound like it was against our will.” Pearl rolled her eyes, “Believe me that stocking was attached to the fireplace every year for a long time after our dad died. Hermits thought we were crazy.” 

Grian smiled, “You are.” 

“Fair enough,” She said, “You know we can get you a real one if you want. I doubt you want to put that thing up—”

“I want to put it up.”

“Then up it goes.” Pearl smiled.

________________________________________________________________________

Martyn had always been a light sleeper. Taking care of two toddlers and a baby would do it to anyone he reasoned. Even years later, he still woke up at the slightest noise that could be mistaken for cries or screams. Which was probably why he was the only one who startled awake at the crash. 

He jolted up, grabbing at his heart as he tried to calm down. It took him a moment longer for the noise to catch up with his head. The moment it did, he was up. He tore the blankets off of him, rushing down the hallway, ignoring each door. He made it to the banister only seconds later, he looked over the railing to see their living room still shadowed in darkness. He gritted his teeth, clambering down the stairs when he didn’t see anyone in the mist of black. 

In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should’ve grabbed his gun from his nightstand. 

It didn’t matter much when he was suddenly stopped by a yelp, “Don’t step there!”

Martyn jumped back as his eyes followed down to the last stair. A rope, barely the width of his thumb, was circled around the stair. The excess of the rope was tied around the rest of the banister. The rope had been stabbed with multiple little needles from their old sewing kit. With another step his foot would’ve lodged into the snare and he’d find himself with many pinpricks around the ankle. 

“Holy Fu—!” Martyn rasped, stumbling up to the next stair. He spun back to where he heard the voice. Grian stared back at him, half his face covered by the black bandage hiding his rotten eye. “Grian.” 

“Sorry.” 

Martyn looked around the rest of the room and gawked. 

There were at least three other snare traps in the same style scattered around the room. A patch of the floor had been covered in thumbtacks all with the sharp ends pointed upwards. One of Pearl’s strings of bells had been dislodged from the wall and lined against the chimney, tied at each end. Another tripwire had been set up at the front door, connected to a mouse trap. And Grian stood in the center of it, his chest heaving as he looked around the room. His hands shook, holding them out on either side as if he was trying to calm the room down. 

“What in the world are you doing?” Martyn seethed. 

“I’m sorry.” Grian sputtered out, as Martyn hopped over the snare. Grian winced as Martyn passed the threshold, “I’ll put it all back, I swear.”

Martyn blinked, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. “I–that doesn’t even begin to answer my questions.” He stepped over a patch of thumbtacks that spread across the walkway. “Just—Oh my god.”

Grian shrunk when he reached his side, whatever he’d been working on was forgotten on the coffee table. His shoulders rose to his ears, “Are you mad?”

He stared at the state of their living room, thousands of questions rummaging in his head. There had been times in the past where Grian’s strangeness had erupted in some way that led Martyn to have no bearings about what to do next. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. The absurdity of it all would split him in seams if it wasn’t for the fact that everything was born out of fear.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around. “I’m…” He started, trying to find the right words, “concerned. A little impressed.” He laughed, lightly, “...and slightly scared. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Grian frowned, shifting on his feet, “Not particularly.”

Martyn tried to offer a smile. “Well, you’re going to have to. Preferably now, before Pearl comes down here and freaks herself out.” He muttered the last part.

“It’s security.” 

“Security?”

“In case…” He saw as Grian’s fists clenched at his sides. The boy in front of him tensed, grinding his teeth together as he fought to get the words out. “In case someone comes in—it’s only for nighttime!”

Martyn blinked, gawking, “Who do you think is going to break into our house? The wet bandits?!”

“Who?” Grian stared blankly at him, the reference lost on him. 

Martyn frowned, disappointed, “I forgot you haven’t seen that movie—put that on the movie list,” He cut himself off, making a mental note to add it himself to the long list of movies he had been watching with the younger. “But—but back to this!”

“Grian, you can’t just trap our house.” Martyn retorted, waving a hand around the room. “I honestly don’t know where you found half of this stuff.”

“But, what if?!” Grian jumped in, grabbing his sleeve before he could turn away. His fingers were shaking, and Martyn couldn’t tell if he was struggling to see him in the dark or if couldn’t focus much longer. “What else are we supposed to do? What if he comes—breaks in?”

The older held him by the shoulders as he spoke, “Then I will deal with it, but we don’t use thumbtacks and snares.” He pointed a finger at the shorter’s chest, “You could’ve gotten hurt—Jimmy could’ve come downstairs and fell into one. I nearly stepped in one—”

Grian cut him off, throwing his arms out. Martyn stumbled back as the younger shoved him, “I stopped you!” 

The blond curled his arms around his chest, pacing the only safe part of the room where he hadn’t placed traps. He was cornered by Martyn and the back wall, and with each turn on his heels he moved faster trying to find a way out. His self-hug quickly turned dire as his nails dug into skin and tore open in pricks of blood. 

“Grian.” Martyn warned, already seeing the edges of red coating his nails after the second scratch. “Kid, what is going on with you?”

He glanced up, only to pull himself back into his pacing. Martyn sighed, dropping on to the couch. He laid his head into his hands as he waited for Grian to realize he wasn’t a threat. Grian’s footsteps echoed in their empty living room, and Martyn wondered if Pearl would wake up from the noise. 

Waiting for Grian to realize they weren’t threats to him had never been easy. The first time Martyn had thought it would kill him. Having waited so many years to hear his siblings voice again and the first thing he hears is the screams as he’s meeting them. Apparently, there was no easy way to get him to trust them, and while they had all found their own ways, Martyn found that Grian could be treated much like a wild animal. 

If he waited long enough, Grian would come to him. 

The footsteps paused for a moment, before returning. Then there was a slump in the cushion next to him. He looked over, finding the younger curled into the couch beside him. Martyn sighed, leaning back, “Seriously, kid, you haven’t acted like this since Halloween.” 

He was met with silence. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No.” 

It was such a terrible lie, Martyn couldn’t help but let out a scoff, “Really? Cause it sure seems like it.” He waited for a response, but he was met with nothing. In the dark, he couldn’t even be sure Grian was still sitting next to him. He sighed, eyes trailing back to the snow falling on their windows, “Is it…is it something to do with the white death thing?”

When Grian flinched, he knew he had hit the nail on the head. 

“It’s just snow.” 

“Yeah.” Martyn nodded, blankly. He could just barely see Grian clench his eye shut. He laid a hand on the other’s knee, squeezing it lightly, “but it wasn’t to you. There’s a big difference in that, Grian.”

The blond shifted away. Martyn could only see as he brought up a hand to rub his face, before he softly, spoke, “We used to put up traps around Sam’s shed.” Martyn’s chest burned from the sharp intake he took, his head snapping over to see his sibling. It was rare that Grian even brought up the other by name. “He said it helped protect it.”

Martyn nodded, slowly. “So you were trying to protect us. From what?” He scooted closer, Grian hunched forward. “...G, I can’t help, if you don’t tell me.”

Grian didn’t respond. 

Martyn sighed, standing back up. He held out a hand to the younger, waiting for him to take it. Grian looked up confused, “Come on,” Martyn huffed, nodding for him to get up, “You’re helping me put these up. And then we’re watching Home Alone.”

He took his head, raising an eyebrow, “You’re not going to make me go back to bed?”

Martyn smirked, “If I did, would you?” He shook his head, slowly. “Thought so. Come on.”

They quickly swept the thumbtack back into the boxes, with Grian explaining to the older where he’d gotten everything from. It took both of them to untie and dismantle the snares. At one point Martyn tried to do so on his own, ending with Grian panicking as he nearly took off his own thumb. They cut the tripwires, hanging the string of bells back in their place for Pearl the next morning. 

They were halfway through the third snare when Grian spoke up once more, “Martyn.”

“Yeah?” He grumbled, wrestling with the knot around the banister. Grian had tried to untie it first, frustrated and tired, he couldn’t seem to get a good grip on the threads enough to untie it. 

“Was Jimmy right?”

The question was said so quietly, Martyn almost missed it. It sent a wave of heat over him as he scrambled to think through the mist it brought in his brain. Grian had not spoken about his spat with Jimmy. In Martyn’s mind, he had hoped the boy had forgotten about it. Hearing the question was proof that he had never forgotten it, only hid it and mulled over it for days. 

“About what?” He asked instead.

Grian frowned, his lightly bloodied nails digging into the skin of his palms, “That I…overreact.”

Martyn froze. 

He looked back to his little brother. In that moment, in the darkness, he couldn’t see Grian but he knew he was there. No, instead standing in front of him was that little image that stuck in his head late at night. It was the mirage that hid behind his bedroom door when he couldn’t sleep. It was the ghost that haunted him whenever he couldn’t save a child—when he couldn’t find them. 

It was Grian, staring up at him with two eyes, wide and curious about the noise downstairs. It was Grian asking him thousands of questions because he was the only one who would listen. 

“Why do mom and dad not like me? Did I do something wrong? They like Pearl. Why not me?”

Martyn swallowed. 

It was Jimmy, running up to him with tears in his eyes after Pearl’s meltdown. It was Jimmy rambling over himself as he cried because of what Pearl had said. 

“Why doesn’t she like me? She said it was my fault! She wants them instead! Why doesn’t she like me?”

Even if the question changed the meaning never did. Because even now, Grian was asking, “He doesn’t like me, does he? I’m too much and not enough. He’ll never like me like this.”

Martyn sat up straight, sighing, “You’re hitting me with the hard questions tonight aren’t you.”

Grian frowned, “Is that a yes?”

“Come here,” Martyn stood, barely grasping the other’s wrist as he brought him back to their couch. They sat down and Martyn scanned him over. Grian shifted in his seat, and Martyn stared at him sternly, “Grian.” 

“There are very few people in the world that can do what you’ve done. That can go through that much trauma and come back from it.” Martyn stated, firmly. Grian frowned, only nodding, his eye never lifting from his knees. Martyn leaned forward, forcing himself into his eyeline, “You don’t over react. You react. You react to a world that has given you nothing but the worst of the worst. There is nothing I would’ve done differently in your position.”

Grian nodded, again, the barest hint of a tear slipping onto his cheek. Martyn sighed, brushing his thumb underneath the other eye. “Jimmy was out of line the other day. And he knows that, but you need to know that, too.”

Grian’s nose wrinkled, his fists clenching around his pajamas. He bashed his fists into his knees, gritting through his teeth, “But to you it’s all normal! All of it—” He snapped a hand over to the window, “the snow, the costumes for Halloween, the games for fun! It’s normal.”

Martyn nodded, “Yeah.”

“Do I make it worse?” Grian asked, softly. 

Martyn’s face hardened, “No.” He spoke without hesitation, “Never.”

Grian scoffed, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “Even after all this?”

“Grian.” Martyn warned, carefully, “the past year of my life has been the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten. I didn’t just get one sibling back, I got all three. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

__________________________________________________________________

December 24th, in the next twenty four hours he would know. That was what Grian kept telling himself. If he could just make it through the next twenty four hours, he’d be safe. It was easier said than done. 

Since that morning, Jimmy had been pulling him to and fro all over the house. At first, it wasn’t hard to keep up, all he wanted was to eat pancakes and watch various cheesy Christmas film. Then it was baking cookies with Pearl. And then it was wrapping presents for the other hermits with Martyn. And that was all before lunch! 

He finally managed to slump in his chair when Jimmy ran upstairs with some random package he’d grabbed from the doorstep. He leaned against the window, spying down the street at the hermits and smaller neighbors. Impulse and Skizz waved at him from the sidewalk as they walked by, he had to bite back a laugh when Skizz nearly slipped on the ice. 

His pleasant silence was broken by thunderous feet running back down the stairs. Jimmy had jumped the last step, and Grian could only imagine if he hadn’t put up that snare trap. He could see it in his mind as it snapped against Jimmy’s leg and skinned his ankle. He swallowed, barely hearing the kid as he started calling out.

The younger was already pulling on his boots, shouting something to Pearl in the kitchen. Before long, he was being pulled out of his chair and towards the door. Pearl glanced at him for a moment, a pitying frown on her face as she waved them goodbye. 

Grian shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. At some point, he had slipped into his coat and boots. His scarf covered the bottom half of his face, acting as the perfect excuse to stay quiet. 

Jimmy was hauling along some long wooden board with him, talking back and forth with another kid about his size. It was someone he had met multiple times, one of Jimmy’s best friends, Scout–Scar—no that was his friend—Scott?

When they reached the bottom of a hill, blanketed in snow, Grian paused. They were at the end of the neighborhood, closer to Mumbo and Doc’s homes. The hill already had long strokes in the snow ending only at the base where the dead grass met the sidewalk. At the top of the hill, Grian could see a few figures already playing about. 

Scott and Jimmy started towards the hill, running to reach the top before the other. Both were hauling their own long boards, dragging them in the snow behind them. Grian frowned, slowly following along. He ignored the way his legs burned as they climbed, it felt familiar, something he remembered from gym classes long ago. 

When they reached the top, he could finally see who all was there. Doc and Ren were on the other side of the hill. Ren was already covered in snow, while Doc smirked back at him. The shorter of the two was shouting up at the other, while laughing, something about someone pushing him. Xisuma and Keralis had positioned themselves towards the edge of the hill, neither making much effort to move. 

A couple of younger kids were running around. A boy with orange hair ran up to Keralis, that wooden board was placed on the snow and before long Keralis was talking to him. Then he was off, and Keralis sat back down waiting for the next kid to line up. 

He felt a tug on his sleeve, and looked over. 

“I’ve been saying your name for like five minutes, mate.” Mumbo tried to smile, “You sure you’re alright?”

Grian blinked, nodding. “Yeah. I’m…fine.”

Mumbo nodded, slowly. He hummed, “Sure. Jimmy bring you here?”

“Mhm.” 

“You can say no to him, you know?” 

“I know.”

“Okay,” Mumbo sighed, “Just making sure.”

Grian watched as Jimmy and Scott tumbled up to the side of the hill where Xisuma and Keralis sat. They placed their boards down, and both Xisuma and Keralis were talking to them now. Xisuma was counting down. Then they were gone.

“Do you want to try?” Mumbo asked.

“What?” 

“Do you want a turn? On the sled.” Mumbo clarified. 

“Is that what they’re doing?” Grian asked, pointing to where Jimmy and Scott once were.

Mumbo nodded, “Yeah, well, technically they’re racing. I think I heard one of them say the winner gets…” The rest of his words were blocked out by Grian’s mind. He couldn’t tell where he started and where Mumbo’s voice started. 

The world was moving too fast, and he was moving in slow motion. His body delayed every command from his brain. He could barely move his fingers to pinch the skin of his palm. He wondered where his boots ended and where the ground started. When did the words in his mind become enough to force his voice to come back. 

He needed something–something needed to bring him back. He needed to get back to reality. 

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“I want to sled.”

“Oh,” Mumbo muttered, “Okay. Here, we can go over here.” There was suddenly a weight around his wrist, and Mumbo was pulling him away from the others gently. Mumbo moved briskly but he didn’t move with the same energy that Jimmy did, this was…this was easier to follow. He could keep up with Mumbo. They reached the side of the hill closer to Ren and Doc, although neither said anything to them. 

“Are you sure you want to try this?” Mumbo asked, laying out his sled on the snow. Grian looked over the hilltop, there was a sudden wave that washed over him as he looked over the edge. The slope looked far, steep—less like a slop and more like a drop. 

“Yes.”

“Okay…” Mumbo sighed, he hopped onto his sled, holding out a hand to the other. Grian stared at his hand blankly, “Mate, if you want to sled, you’ve got to get on.”

Grian frowned, but took his hand, settling behind him. Mumbo smiled at him, “Ready?” 

When Grian nodded once, Mumbo pushed off. 

And for a moment there was weightlessness. Everything around him was colors, just shadows and light. There was wind whipping past in his fast. It felt like running through the woods without the pain in his legs. It felt like falling down a hillside to a safe rundown school-bus. It felt like he had finally sped up his body to meet in time with the real world for that one moment. 

And then it was gone. 

And he was staring at the sky above him, his back freezing from the snow around him. He could hear Mumbo shouting at him from a few feet away. He could feel someone stumbling to his side. And the blue of the sky turned into Mumbo’s face before he knew it. 

He was saying something, but Grian didn’t pay any attention. He just shoved his gloved hands into the boy's face pushing him away. 

“ —ack! Grian!” 

“Go away.” 

“No!” Mumbo snapped, “Did you hit your head? What is wrong with you? Are you okay? Do I need to grab somebody? I didn’t think we were going that fast. Did you even hold on?”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, Grian.” Mumbo squawked. 

Grian sighed, pushing himself up until he was sitting beside Mumbo. He looked over to Mumbo, blankly. Mumbo must have seen something that shocked him, because he flinched. Grian didn’t care much, he just hummed, “Can we do that again?”

“I–No.” Mumbo stammered, “G, when was the last time you slept? You look dead on your—no wait I’m not going to say that. I think you should go home. Take a nap, or something.”

Grian frowned, “No. Can’t do that.” He moved to pull himself off the ground, but Mumbo was already forcing him back down. 

“And why not?”

The blond rubbed his eye, glaring at the other, “Not sleeping–he sees you.”

Mumbo’s jaw tightened. Grian saw the moment it did. He saw how his friend tensed, and the normally anxious look he gave was replaced with something somber. Grian huffed, shifting so his feet were underneath him. He went to stand but once again was stopped by the taller. 

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” Mumbo pointed at him, his gaze hardening. 

“What?”

“I mean it, Birdie.” Mumbo glared, “You’ve been acting off all month. Now I let it go because I thought it was something between you and Jim, but Scar seems to think it’s something bigger. And I thought he was being crazy but I’m starting to think he’s on to something. So you’re going to tell me. Right now.”

Grian swallowed. His face burned, his throat felt like he had swallowed the thumbtacks he’d used the other night. He dragged his nails against the fabric of his pants, he could barely feel it. He wished he was back on that sled, flying down that hill with all the colors. 

He couldn’t take it. He couldn't wait anymore. He needed to know. 

“What does he do with the bad kids?”

Mumbo jolted, he seemed surprised by the answer. “I–that worked? Uh…who?”

“The man.”

“The man?” 

Grian chewed on the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to say the man’s name. He never said the principal’s name. You never say the name of the man who can watch you, but Mumbo just stared at him. 

“Santa.” Grian seethed out.

Mumbo flinched again, his eyes wide. “What? Santa? You—you…” He cut himself off. 

Mumbo was silent for a moment, his eyes trailing off to the side. Grian raised an eyebrow, watching as Mumbo silently panicked for a moment. He barely heard the boy start talking again, “This whole time…this whole time you’ve been—been scared of Santa? The sleeping?”

“He sees you when you’re sleeping.” Grian answered, shortly.

“The parade?”

“He would’ve seen me.” 

“The list.” Mumbo muttered.

“What does he do to the bad kids?” Grian asked again. 

“Why are you worried about—”

“I did bad things, Mumbo.” Grian snapped, grabbing the boy’s wrists tightly. “What will he do to me?”

Mumbo stared at him, shaking his head, “I will explain. I’m going to explain, I promise, I just—I need to know who told you it first. I need to know what you know, okay?”

Grian furrowed his brow, what could any of that do? He huffed, “Jimmy. Jimmy told me.” Mumbo nodded, but Grian’s blunt nails just dug deeper into his wrists. “What will he do to me, Mumbo?”

“Jimmy!” Mumbo shouted.

Grian felt his stomach plummet. His gaze flickered from Mumbo to where his younger brother was running back up the hill with Scott. Jimmy looked over at them, his face twisted with confusion. Grian’s hands flinched away from Mumbo, the world suddenly spun too fast, “Why—why are you calling him? Why are you getting him? What did I do? Did I do something wrong?”

Mumbo grabbed his shoulders before he could run, “No. No, you did nothing wrong. You’re fine. I promise, but I need you to hear him say it.”

Jimmy bounded up to them, his eyes flicking back and forth with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Mumbo kept his eyes on Grian, matching his breath. He never looked away from the blond as he spoke to the younger, “Jimmy, I need to know what you told Grian about Santa Claus.”

“What?” Jimmy laughed. He giggled, barely covering his mouth with his hand when Mumbo sent a sharp look towards him. Jimmy stopped, his tiny brow furrowing, “I—I said that he sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He keeps a list of all the nice boys and girls. And all the bad ones. And all the good ones get presents on boxing day. He comes down on his sleigh with all of his reindeer and falls down your chimney. He eats all the milk and cookies and leaves you gifts for the morning.”

Mumbo nodded, as Grian glanced between them. Mumbo sighed, “And you didn’t say what happens to the bad kids, did you?”

Jimmy frowned, “No.” he looked to his brother, “They get coal.”

“They get coal?” Grian sounded out. Jimmy nodded, looking over his brother concerned. 

“Are you okay?” He reached out for his brother, but Grian flinched back. Grian stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to scream, to yell, to shout. He had done it again. He had done it again. Something so simple—something so mundane. Coal. Of course, why would it be anything other than coal? 

There would be no dead birds resting in his boxes. There would be no mauled creatures he could’ve saved waiting for him in the morning. There would be no man standing at their door ready to finally take him away. There would be coal…coal.

“Okay, thanks, Jim.” Mumbo ushered him back to the hill.

“Is he—”

“I’ve got it.”

“Coal?” Grian asked.

Mumbo nodded, slowly, “It’s quite simple.” 

“I did it again.” Grian muttered, staring at his hands. “I over reacted.”

Mumbo frowned, “You were scared. That’s not over reacting.”

“I was scared of snow!” 

“What?”

Grian needed to scream. He needed to scream. He couldn’t do anything right! He had tried so hard to get it right! He squealed into his cheeks, stomping his foot into the snow. He spun around in the snow, storming off. 

“Where are you going?” Mumbo called.

“Home!” He shouted back without care. 

____________________________________________________________________-

“Santa. You think it’s Santa.” Martyn scoffed, nursing his newly filled mug of tea. 

“I don’t think, I know.” Mumbo retorted, slipping back into his seat next to Pearl. The dishes were in the washer, the last of them soaking in the sink. Jimmy had run back upstairs as soon as he was finished with his dinner, leaving his plate at his seat. Pearl had called him back down to clean it up, but he was already too far by the time she stood. Grian left not long after, his silent entrance and exit was so normal for them they hardly noticed. 

Mumbo had helped Pearl clean the rest of the kitchen as he told the two about what he’d learned that afternoon. 

“You know it’s Santa?” Martyn huffed, “Mumbo, we’ve never even told him about Santa.”

“You didn’t have to, Jimmy did.” 

Pearl sighed, running a finger along the edge of her mug, “It makes sense, Martyn. He’s not been sleeping. He’s a mess today. You said it yourself, the other night he was literally trapping our living room.”

Mumbo paused, “Hold on, what now? He trapped your living room?”

Martyn sighed, waving it off, “He placed a bunch of homemade animal traps around. We cleaned it up before anyone woke up.”

“I—that’s not the point—he trapped your house!” Mumbo stuttered, “That’s like…that’s gotta be proof enough. He’s terrified! And it’s not from some argument he had with Jimmy.”

“He was worried about over reacting,” Martyn pointed out, “That sounds like it has to do with it after all.”

“So what? It’s a mixture.” Mumbo huffed, “That doesn’t change the fact that right now, upstairs, he is terrified of what’s going to happen tonight.” 

“But nothing is going to happen to him.” Pearl whispered. 

Mumbo glanced back at her sadly, “But he doesn’t know that.”  

“Now hold on, you said that Jimmy told him bad kids get coal. That should’ve calmed him down some.” Martyn argued.

“Did he seem calm to you?” Mumbo pushed, gesturing to the roof. “He stormed off before I could get another word in. I would’ve told him the truth but I—”

“We can’t tell him the truth.” Pearl cut him off, staring into her tea. Her voice cracked, “We can’t. He’s never—He’s never gotten to experience any of this. He wants it, I know he does. He asked me to put his stocking up for him. He wants to enjoy it. We can’t tell him the truth.”

“Is it worth it though?” Mumbo breathed out, “The past nights…he’s stolen a knife to protect him, managed to leave your house, trap your living room, and who knows what else! I’m not saying I don’t want him to enjoy Christmas! I want him to be able to have a childhood as much as you to do, but if it comes at the cost of his safety—”

“No one will get hurt.”

“You can’t promise that, Martyn.” 

“I’ll stay up all night then.” Martyn stood from his chair, pacing the room. His cup was forgotten on the table as he combed a hand through his hair, “I’ll keep an eye out for him. Make sure nothing happens.”

“And what happens when he does the same?” Mumbo pressed, standing. “What happens when he sees that not—”

“He’s right, Martyn.” 

“Pearl, pick a side!” 

“I’m not picking sides, I’m trying to do what’s best here!” 

Mumbo took a step forward, grabbing the older blond by the wrist to stop him. “We can’t leave him like this, Martyn. He’s spent all month like this,” Mumbo sighed, glancing back to the stairs outside the kitchen, “I’m not going to let him go another night like that.”

Martyn groaned, “Then what, he calls Jimmy a liar? We do this, we're not taking it away from one kid, we’re taking it away from both.”

“He’s twelve Martyn.” Pearl whispered.

“So? You couldn’t even celebrate it until you were twelve.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Pearl sneered, “We don’t have another choice. What else could we even do?”

“We get through tonight like we have every other night.”

“No, we get through the night. He suffers through it!” Mumbo shouted back, “It’s Christmas Eve, the second you go to bed he’s out of that room with a knife. Halloween was bad—it was bad but he didn’t have someone to focus on. He’s not scared of everyone outside, he’s not scared of the people ringing your doorbell, he’s scared of a supposed man that watches him and is about to break into his house–doesn’t that sound familiar to you!”

The kitchen fell silent. Mumbo glared at the older, he didn’t know how Martyn hadn’t seen it before. Or if he had, how he was able to ignore it. The twin’s father had left marks on all of them, but the scars, even if invisible, ran deeper in Grian than the others. 

Pearl shivered, shaky as she stood. She didn’t look at her brother as she spoke, “I want to tell him, Martyn. We need to tell him.”

Martyn opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by the doorbell. The three glanced at each other, before Martyn turned to the window. “Who’s out here at this time?”

Mumbo frowned, “Probably one of the hermits saying goodnight.”

“Or telling us to shut up.” Pearl laughed, bitterly. She left the room, her red jacket wrapped tightly around her pajamas. The doorbell rang a second time and she huffed, “I’m coming!”

Martyn and Mumbo followed behind her, and from above she could hear a door open. She wondered if it was Jimmy or Grian that had chosen to leave their little sanctuary. Either way, they would rush back to hiding once the yelling started again. She opened the door, slightly, about to shoo whatever Hermit it was away when her eyes widened.

She opened the door all the way, letting Mumbo and Martyn see. She gawked, confused, “Scar? What the hell are you wearing?”

It was a fair reaction, Scar guessed. He hadn’t exactly called ahead with his plan, nor had he even explained to the siblings why he needed said plan in the first place. But he assumed that showing up to someone’s home in the dark wearing what he could only describe as a green catastrophe was an explanation enough to warrant his entry. 

So there he stood, on Pearl’s pristine porch, wearing the elf costume he had forced Cleo and Bdubs to help him make. It was silly, he knew, the green and red hat was a size too big and kept falling down. The plastic ears attached to the hat were scratchy and uncomfortable. Not to mention the collar was stiff with white fluff they had cut from an old santa hat. 

His regular brown jacket had been replaced by a green oversized coat that Cleo had taken to decorating for the last couple of days. She had added all too much ribbon in his mind, there was enough candy-cane pattern from the tights that laid beneath his pants. 

The shoes had been Bdubs’ work, black and heavy, they curled at the tips and his brother had even gone through the trouble of attaching bells—which had served to annoy Scar all the way over. 

He could only hope that no other Hermits had been out to see his ridiculous nature. Goodness knows, Cleo took enough pictures for blackmail. 

Still he stood proudly at the door, holding the perfectly wrapped present at his side, while his other hand laid on his cane. 

“Can’t have a Santa without an elf, can you?” He grinned.

Pearl’s eyes widened, but before she could say anything Mumbo was pushing past her. “No, no, Scar, you can’t be here like that. You need to go.”

Scar frowned, “I’m not leaving until I see Grian.”

“No, you don’t understand, Scar.” Pearl sighed, leaning against the door for support, “Grian can’t see you like that.”

Scar shook his head, brushing past both of them and walking into the house. His shoes rang with each step and he had half the mind to curse Bdubs out when he got home. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Scar, you seriously can not be here looking like that!” Mumbo argued, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him back, “You don’t get it, G is terrified of—”

“Santa. Yeah, I know.” Scar waved off, ignoring the three altogether. 

“What?” Martyn snapped, “You knew?”

“I figured it out at the parade.” Scar shrugged, he gestured to himself, “Why else do you think I would show up like this?”

“Scar, you knew? You knew and didn’t tell us?!” Pearl seethed.

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” Scar grimaced, “Besides, I needed to think. I’m not going to show up at your house with a problem and no solution.”

“You have a solution?” Mumbo muttered

“Of course, I have a solution.” Scar huffed, spinning around in a circle before waving his arms out in display. “One elf, at your service.”

“How is this supposed to help?” Martyn asked, crossing his arms as he scanned over the younger. 

Scar sighed, dropping his act. He placed down the small box he held in his hand on the couch, turning back to the three. His form hunched over his cane, exhaustion leaking from every bone in his body. “As much as we all love Grian, he’s gullible.”

“You’re going to trick him?” Martyn sneered, a fury already growing in his chest. 

“No!” Scar defended quickly, “No, I wouldn’t do that. I’m just—I’m going to…”

“You’re going to scam him.” Mumbo whispered.

“In a way.”

Pearl scoffed, “Okay, but do we get to know this supposed solution? You can’t just come in here and scam my brother, Scar. You have no idea what that could do to him—what you’re even planning on doing? Have you run it by anyone else?”

“I’ve talked it through with Bdubs and Cleo.” Scar admitted, firmly. “They both told me to do it.” 

“It’s not like we have any better ideas.” Mumbo sighed, rubbing his arms. 

“Scar?” 

They all looked up, finding Grian staring down at them from the top of the stairwell. There was confusion written across his face as he scanned over Scar. He was holding on tightly to the railing, as if his legs might give out on him. He looked between Scar and his siblings, a question on his tongue. 

Scar smiled at him, waving. “Hey, G.”

Grian took a slow step onto the stairs, watching him closely as he walked down. “What–what are you wearing?”

Scar smirked, “Oh, this? What? You don’t like it?”

Grian let out a breathy laugh as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He walked up to Scar quietly, tilting his head each way to get a look at the costume. He poked the green vest, waiting for something to happen before laughing again, “You look stupid.”

Scar scoffed, “Oh, how dare you!” He mocked, smiling behind his words, “I’ll have you know mister, you’re talking to a right elf!”

“Elf?” Grian’s brow furrowed, “Scar, you—you’re not an elf.”

“You don’t know that.” Scar hummed, crossing his arms. He tilted his chin up, proudly. 

Grian shook his head, “No, no I know you’re not an elf. You–” He huffed out a breath, “You never said anything about elves before.”

“It’s a secret, I’ll have you know.”

Grian rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He sighed, “But why?”

Scar smiled again, looking back to his friend, “Well, a certain somebody let me know that a certain somebody here wasn’t having their Christmas cheer.”

Grian face fell for only a moment before the confusion won over again, “What?”

“You see, us elves are great at figuring things out!” Scar erupted into a theatrical monologue. He spun on his heels, dancing around Grian as if he was something out one of Ren’s plays. Grian could only roll his eyes and laugh at him as he popped in and out of his vision. “All it took was a little bit of thinking and ex–experi—Mumbo what’s the word?”

“Experiments. A way to test a hypothesis.” 

“Thank Mister Jumbo!” Scar grinned, “That and thinking was all it took for me to figure you out—again.” he added on after, “Which is what brings me here today!”

He jumped on his heels in front of Grian, standing at straight as he could, he announced, “In order to reappear with your christmas cheer, take a good long look at Santa’s list” Scar began to rummage through the interior pocket of his coat. He pulled out a folded up piece of paper about the size of his palm. Then he started to unfold it. Fold by fold the paper grew long and longer and longer until it reached the floor. He turned it towards the other, pointing at part in particular, “And I promise what you find won’t be missed.”

Grian flinched back, glancing between Scar and the list in front of him. At the very top, Scar scribbled out the words Nice before Cleo erased his work and scrawled out the cursive on the page. It was a very long list of names, most completely made up but along the lines of names each and every one of the Hermits could be found. 

“Go on.” Scar nodded, tapping the paper again. Grian frowned, taking the paper in his hands delicately, he ran his fingers across the names before he stumbled on the name they had intentionally made bigger than all the rest. 

Grian froze, reading over his name over and over again. 

“Gri, I don’t know of anyone that is more deserving of the nice list than you.” Scar declared, “Whatever happened in Evo, can stay there. The things you did to survive do not make up who you are, it’s everything you did after. If you were ever even considered for a naughty list, I would be right there with you.” Scar swallowed, returning to his bit, “Santa knows that everything you did was to survive, he knows how much it haunts you. And he would never dare wish anything upon you. He knows you’re smart, kind, and resilient.”

Scar took a step closer. He could see how Grian’s hands began to shake, his fingers trembling to keep the paper still. There were tears in his eye that he could see and the black bandage spread across his face was damp.

Scar reached forward, and wrapped the other in a hug. The second his arms were around the other, he felt him go limp. It was all too much and Scar was set tumbling backwards.

“Woah!” Mumbo jumped forward, grabbing Scar by the arm and helping him stand. Scar just laughed, relishing in the hug he was able to give.

He could feel Grian crying into his sleeve, the way his shoulders heaved with each broken breath. Scar huffed out a laugh, only taking one arm away to lean back onto his cane, “I know I look rather stupid, right now, G. But I think I speak for all of the elves and Santa himself, when I say they never meant for this to happen.”

Grian shook his head, pushing the boy away. He wiped his eye with the back of his arm, muttering, “It’s just coal.” 

Scar frowned, “What’s that mean?”

“Why—why are you doing all this? It’s just coal. It’s not—it’s not a big deal. I made it more than it was supposed to be. I—I over reacted.”

“G–” Martyn sighed.

“Now hold on,” Scar interrupted, “‘Over reacted?’ There is no overreaction in this, Gri. I don’t care if it was just coal, or if it was the whole dang world collapsing. You reacted because there was a consequence for the actions you didn’t even know you were taking. And that sounds pretty familiar to me. You were scared—being scared doesn’t mean you over react, it’s a response, Grian.”

“You never even told anyone, Birdie.” Mumbo cut in, “You went this entire month like this. You did it by yourself, and as much as I hate that’s how it happened—it’s obvious you never did it for attention.”

Scar nodded, smirking, “I mean, look at me, G. I’m standing here in an elf costume that I made Cleo and Bdubs work on for a week. If that isn’t an overreaction I don’t know what is.”

Grian laughed, and Scar felt a weight lift off his chest. He hung an arm over the shorter’s shoulder, leading him over to the living area. He stopped in front of the couch, where the present lay. He leaned over picking it up and held it out for the other, “Now, I know you’re probably still a bit unsure about the big man himself, which is why he told me to bring you this. It’s fresh from the elves' workshop and everything.”

Grian blinked as the present was dropped into his hands. He looked over the colorful wrappings in awe, before glancing back to his siblings. “What–I don’t understand…”

“Don’t look at us.” Pearl sighed.

“Open it.” Scar offered, quietly. 

“Aren’t you supposed to wait until morning, though?” 

“I don’t think the old guy will mind if you slip one tonight.” Scar shrugged, waving off the thought. Grian rolled his eyes, sitting down on the couch. He pulled the gift into his lap, and began to unwrap it. He wasn’t the best at unwrapping things, Scar would’ve hated to see him try and wrap a present, but it was nice to watch. 

He pulled at the paper and when it didn’t let go, he seemed to grow even more confused. It took Mumbo help to get him started, before he understood to rip the paper down. Finally, the box inside was revealed and he was able to see what was given. 

Grian furrowed his brow, “What–what is this?”

“It’s a night kit.” Scar said, softly, "Courtesy of the herm—elves. Everything in there is something that can help you sleep at night.”

Grian pulled out the first item, a small mechanism with a key attached. He raised it up to look at it, there was some redstone dust powdering on the side where the screws were attached. Scar smirked, “It’s a lock. You can put it on your door, and when you don’t want somebody to come in you click that button right there. You’re the only person with a key.” It was a lie, but Grian didn’t need to know that. Truly, Impulse had the other key. He was the one who made it after all. “Santa doesn’t go where he’s not invited.”

Grian nodded, slowly, setting the lock down next to him. He pulled out the next item, a small little lightbulb in the shape of a parrot. It was a gift from Gem, something she and Etho put together. Next was a bird plush, False had specifically made it to resemble one of Grian’s favorite finches. It was weighted at the bottom, a plus from Xisuma who had suggested it. 

“A companion never hurt, you think?” Scar added, “Elves sleep better with their friends after all.”

“Scar.” Pearl warned, the words a little too close to something else for her comfort. 

“What?” Scar huffed. Grian ignored them both pulling out the next thing. It was a box of teas. Joel and Lizzie had brought that, “helps when you can’t sleep.”

At the bottom of the box was a blanket with red patches and soft lining. It was a gift from Cleo that Tango and Doc had gotten their hands on. Now it was weighted, with a bit of extra flare and warmth to match. Grian pulled it out, heaving it onto his lap with a laugh. And Scar watched as the last thing fell out of the box. It was small, so tiny that he might have missed it otherwise, but Scar picked it up and handed it to him. 

It was a little card from Skizz, it had nothing more than a single sentence on it, but still Scar thought it was one of the best in the box. 

“I don’t get it.” Grian whispered. 

Scar hummed, sitting next to him. The single sentence read ‘I am safe. I am at home. It’s time for me to get some rest.’. Scar pointed to the sentence, “It’s something you can repeat to yourself, if you need it. Think of it like a calling card to yourself. It’s there to pull you out of whatever spiral you're in, and get you focused on one thing; resting.”

“And it’ll work?” 

Scar wasn’t sure how to answer. He hoped it would, everyone had been hoping it would. He sighed, “Only one way to find out. Ever had a slumber party before?”

__________________________________________________________

Mumbo and Scar both decided to stay the night, camping out in Grian’s room. Mumbo had helped put the lock on Grian’s door, and they could both see the way he relaxed once the key was in his hands. The nightlight was added to the corner of the room, glowing a cozy yellow color across the floor. 

They had made a batch of the tea Joel had gifted, each taking a mug as they sat around Grian’s room. Apparently, Grian’s idea of a slumber party was way off in Mumbo and Scar’s opinion. At first, he had asked when they would watch movies and when he was asked which he wanted to watch, neither boy consented to striding through a horror movie before bed. Instead, Grian was forced to endure one of the many Star Wars movies Scar had been introducing him to. 

When they finally made their way back to Grian’s room for the night, Scar was hyped up on his overly sugared tea. It earned a laughing fit from Grian who had to watch Mumbo try to calm an excited Scar rambling on about his favorite Star Wars characters and moments. 

It wasn’t long, though, until exhaustion won over and Grian was out. He had been lying in his nest on the ground, even after both Scar and Mumbo tried to get him to take the bed that was his. They had been playing a game of I spy that one of Jimmy’s friends had invented, when all of sudden Mumbo was cut off by Grian’s snores. They had looked over to find he had fallen asleep mid-game. 

“I guess he’s out.” Mumbo chuckled. 

“Yup.” Scar hummed, kicking off the elvish boots. Luckily for them, the siblings hadn’t changed much of Grian’s room since his arrival. There were still two beds, one for each of the twins in both corners. Leaving two beds for both of the boys, while Grian found his space in the corner. 

“Why do you think he chooses to sleep there?” Mumbo asked, quietly. He lied back on the bed that had at one point been Pearl’s. He could still see everything that had been up in her room from the day she abandoned it. 

“Probably ‘cause it’s what he knows.” Scar muttered. “Not like he had much with Sam around.” 

Mumbo sighed, Scar was probably right. It made him want to laugh. How often had Scar been right about these things? “How did you know what to do today?”

Scar glanced at him, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just did.” He looked over to Grian, “He needed someone to prove that Santa wasn’t out to get him like everything else in the world.”

“If you hadn’t come by, I don’t know what we would’ve done.” Mumbo sighed. He knew exactly what they would’ve done. They would’ve destroyed one of the last moments of innocence Grian had left. And it would’ve been his fault. He sighed, watching as Grian burrowed under the newest blanket added to his collection. “Where’d you even get that stuff?”

Scar smiled, “The elves, duh.”

“I’m serious, Scar.”

Scar huffed, pushing himself up from the bed, “So am I, Mumbo.” He hummed, laying back down, “Have a little whimsy, you sound like Tango.” He yawned. 

“Thank you, Scar.” Mumbo whispered, turning away from the other to sleep. 

Scar hummed, “No problem.”

____________________________________________________________

“It’s time! It’s time! It’s time! Everybody wake up!” 

“Pearl! Wake up! Santa came! Get up! Get up!” 

“Martyn! Hurry up!”

“Grian—wait, why are you two here? Oh never mind, get up! Everybody, come on!”

Mumbo groaned, barely rising up from the comfort of the mattress below him, “Does he always get up this early?”

Scar huffed, a pillow held tightly around his head, “I like mornings but even this is excessive!”

“Uh, guys?” Grian’s voice poked through the silence, and then the pillow held over Scar’s head was moving. Scar opened one eye to see Grian staring back at him with a concerned smile. “It’s like ten.”

Scar blinked, “Oh jeez, okay, I’m coming!” 

Mumbo huffed, following after the two as they stumbled down the stairwell. The living room was a festive mess of presents scattered beneath their tree. The cookies that had been set out had been eaten, with only the crumbs remaining, and the milk drained to the last drops. 

Jimmy danced around the living room, clapping his hands as he snuck peeks at all the gifts. Pearl was bringing in breakfast from the kitchen, her hair tied up in a messy bun. Martyn was still half asleep on the couch, routinely being woken by Jimmy bouncing on the cushions. 

Grian quickly settled into his chair next to the window, pulling his new blanket over him. The bags under his eyes were going away. He looked a little less pale than he had in the past few days. And for once his eye was steadily focused on one thing; Jimmy.

Mumbo and Scar sat on the couch, as Pearl joined them. She handed Mumbo a mug of coffee, offering to get Scar something to which he declined. Pearl finally sat down, smiling at Jimmy and nodding, “Alright, go.”

Jimmy grinned, and he was off. He slid into the treeside, looking over all the presents. He would pick one up and then set it back down, then choose another and repeat the process. 

“Jim, I don’t think it matters which you start with. Just pick one with your name on it.” Pearl hummed.

“No, it does matter!” Jimmy huffed, “I’m looking for one.”

Pearl sighed, standing up to join him, “If you tell me which one, I’ll help you look.”

Jimmy batted her away, “No, No, you’re going to ruin it. I’ve got to do it.”

Pearl raised her hands in surrender, “Okay, okay.” She sat back down, glancing to her older brother who shrugged. 

“I found it!” Jimmy shouted, before grabbing a box and standing. He grinned, before spinning around and running up to Grian. The blond stared at the smaller confused, as Jimmy held out the present in front of him. 

“What?”

“It’s for you.” Jimmy smiled, “From me.”

“I didn’t—I uh…” Grian stammered, staring at the present as if it might eat him.

“Open it.” Jimmy pressed, before whispering, “Please.”

Grian frowned, glancing at the others but they were just as confused as he was. He swallowed, opening the present slowly and carefully.  When he reached the box, he undid the lid and found a tiny red timer inside. He furrowed his brow, pulling out the timer and twisting it in his vision. 

“I don’t think I understand.” Grian whispered.

Jimmy nodded, sighing, “I know. I didn’t expect you to, um—basically you can tell me to go away with it. If you need like time to yourself, you can set it for however long you want and I’ll leave you alone. Kind of like a ‘do not disturb’ thing. And if anything gets too much, you don’t have to tell me, you can just set the timer.” 

Grian froze, staring at the little boy in front of him, but Jimmy just continued. 

“I messed up. I know I did. And I’m sorry, I don’t really get it. But I’m trying to, I don’t think you over react, Grian. I think I over reacted. I wanted to show you everything about Christmas and winter that there is to love but I didn’t really think about what I was saying. And I didn’t really think about what I was doing. I kept pulling you into everything I did, and I know you’re tired. So, if you need a break. You don’t have to tell me, just set the timer.”

Grian was silent. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Jimmy shifted on his feet. He opened his mouth to speak again but Pearl cut him off. 

“That was very kind of you Jimmy, thank—”

“Thank you.” Grian whispered, smiling at the boy. “Thanks.”

Jimmy just nodded, it was all he needed. He grabbed his brother’s wrist pulling him from the chair, “Want to open the next one?”

“But—those are yours?”

“Silly, your name is on them, too.”  Jimmy grinned, already pushing a larger box towards the blond with his name on it. 

Grian laughed, rubbing a thumb against the paper. And in the corner of the box he could see the cursive name under the from tag.

From Santa.