Work Text:
Grian woke up coughing.
This wasn’t exactly new, but it was nonetheless worth pointing out.
Between the hacking and choking, Grian sorted through his code until he could pick the flowers clean from his lungs.
The violet sat innocently in his palm, only a few flecks of blood staining the petals, the stem. The roots.
It always confused him how a single flower could do so much damage.
Everyone knew what Hanahaki was.
Everyone.
There was definitely a sense of rarity around it, but everyone knew someone who knew someone who had it. It was just common enough to lurk in people’s mind, but not effect their day to day goings about.
The point was it wasn’t unheard of, especially to the Hermits.
Grian had had it for years, after all.
When they’d first found out how long it had been since his first petal, Mumbo had wept every time he saw him for weeks, assuming it would be the last. Scar had watched every sunset with him, Gem had visited daily, well- everyone had made a bit of a big deal of it.
Grian supposed he understood why.
Hanahaki wasn’t chronic. It was terminal.
A year was often all it took for the roots to grow, to choke, to kill-
It had been much longer than that for him. A medical miracle, really.
The only good thing about the Watchers prying him from Evo, Grian thought, was that because of them he could mess with his own code. Could pluck the flowers and add them to the ever full vase on his kitchen table.
Mumbo thought it gauche. Scar thought it morbid. Grian thought it fitting.
The man he loved was dead, and he still loved him enough to grow the flowers Grian would have laid on his grave.
If only Taurtis had been buried.
Without a headstone to weep at dramatically (Taurtis would’ve loved that, it’s how he would have wanted to be mourned- cliché enough to laugh at, all black funeral in the pouring rain) Grian did the next best thing-
He kept the flowers where he could see them.
It was all he had left of him, and it had to be enough.
He didn’t really like competing in the monthly MCC, and at first no one had argued when he turned the invitation down again and again, but now False was going on about how Grian needed to do it, just once-
“Why would I want to fight a bunch of strangers?”
False rose a brow. “You only like to fight your friends?”
“Exactly. Ow!” False ignored his complaints, hitting him with the throw pillow again. “False, careful! Cleo gave me that!”
“Fight. With. Me.” Each word was punctuated with a hit. “I won’t stop until you agree.”
“Fine!” She let up immediately, grinning as she tossed the pillow back on the couch. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” She countered. “You’ve been on this server too long, Hermit is just a title, you know that, right?”
Grian very maturely stuck his tongue out before breaking into a couching fit.
False didn’t watch with pity, and Grian could never thank her enough for that, but she did hurry to his kitchen to get him a glass of water as he pulled a third flower for the day.
He met her in the dining room, carefully adding the flower to his vase before taking the offered water.
She frowned at the vase, but didn’t ask. She never did. Grian couldn’t thank her enough for that, either.
False was great like that, if Grian wanted to talk, she was there, but she wasn’t going to question every little thing Grian did. Not like the others did at first. False had always kept her composure, even when first hearing the news confirmed by Grian five years before.
She’d only paused, took a breath, nodded, and asked if he needed anything from her. He hadn’t, and she’d nodded again.
And that had been that.
She hadn’t been shocked finding out Grian could live with Hanahaki either, like even Xisuma was. She’d quirked a grin and said she figured he’d be fine.
‘Otherwise you’d have said.’
The words were simple, but the trust in them was not.
Maybe that was why Grian gave in to her demands. Maybe it was because he was sure Taurtis would be agreeing with her.
MCC was loud, which Grian had expected. It was crowded, he’d also figured that- but it also… it felt like a community, not a bunch of communities meeting up, which Grian had expected.
Mumbo and Scar- who also both usually opted out, but came due to Grian’s agreement to come- stood on either side of him, talking and pointing at stands, telling him which were scams, and which were actually worth the credits.
“You know we do actually have to be there for the opening ceremonies or they’ll disqualify you, right?” Grian asked innocently.
That lit a fire under them, and he was dragged laughing to the base of the arena, letting them show him where to sign in, show him what team he was in, where to wait to be announced.
“Right, right.” He teased. “And where are you meant to be?”
They scattered, frantic to get to their places in time. It was more than enough to make Grian cackle, voice still raw from the stem he’d removed before they left that morning.
Void, he wished he could’ve introduced them to-
“Are you new?”
A teenager was asking, drawing Grian’s attention. They must be in the same team with the matching pink ribbons pinned to their chests.
“I guess.” Grian shrugged. “You?”
“I’ve been coming since the first game.” The teen boasted, his chest puffing out in his pride. “I’m TommyInnit, and if you make us loose I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” He was narrowing his eyes, and Grian was sure it was supposed to be intimidating. It just reminded him of himself in high school.
“Noted. What if I make us win?”
“Uh-” Tommy frowned, like it was a stupid question (it was). “I’ll let you live, I guess? I dunno, man-”
A shrill whistle had everyone turning to the center of the arena, where Scott stood on a temporary stage.
Grian went straight from the opening ceremonies to one of his servers provided rooms to hack up another violet, then another, and another.
He was only able to wave when Scar joined him, Mumbo sharing with False.
Scar looked crestfallen at the cup of flowers on Grian’s bedside table, but he just pursed his lips, a determined look taking over his expression.
He fiddled with the provided TV for a while before he figured it out (living on a server without normal electricity did that to a person. Grian would know, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to work a phone if he ever got a new one). It wasn’t Star Wars, which surprised Grian until he saw what it actually was, and was even more surprised.
“I know it’s not Christmas, but-”
“That-” Grian’s voice broke, but he kept going. “Is not a Christmas movie.”
“Of course it is!” Scar argued, making himself comfortable on Grian’s bed, throwing an arm over his torso and cuddling in. “Die Hard is a classic-”
“No, what could possess you to say that?”
“It’s set on Christmas!”
“Oh, void, end me now.”
“The void won’t save you from a July Christmas movie marathon, Grian!” He sang, squeezing him tighter for emphasis. “You’re stuck with me!”
Laughter hurt, but so did grief, so he didn’t try to hold it in.
Taurtis really would’ve loved Scar.
He started coughing.
The next morning Grian was exhausted, and Tommy kept glaring at him every time he would yawn, making snips about how Grian needed to be on the top of his game. The other two members of their team just seemed happy that Tommy wasn’t focused on them, which Grian found a bit rude on Tommy’s behalf.
He was just a kid, really.
A loud, kind of obnoxious kid who wouldn’t stop complaining about not being on the same team as his friends, but a kid nonetheless.
Grian could find the patience to joke back, even when Tommy was hardly joking.
“We have to hit them fast and hard, Grian get your shit together, alright, mate?”
Their teammates were standing off to the side, undoubtedly making an entirely different strategy.
It was getting to Tommy by lunch, when the other two went off to eat without even bothering to invite either of them.
“There’s a taco stand out front.” Grian offered. Tommy didn’t seem to get it, still glaring after their teammates. Grian set a gentle hand on his shoulder, not taking offense when Tommy flinched and glared over his shoulder. “C’mon. Tacos. I’m buying. You can walk me through the next game.”
They sat on the curb eating silently. Aside from the crunch of the shells, that is.
Around them spectators stood in line for their own food (competitors got first pick, of course, otherwise the break would be far too long) not seeming to notice them, but their team was hardly getting tons of screen time with how low they were in the ranks.
Tommy was staring so intently at the pavement that Grian couldn’t help but sigh. He wasn’t really good with... feelings. Taurtis was always better at this sort of thing. Shame he couldn’t tell Grian what to do with this.
He cleared his throat, pushing the petals back down.
“You said you had friends competing, right?”
Tommy nodded.
Wow. Grian was great at this, he should become a teacher or something.
“...You wanna tell me about them?”
The teen’s head turned to look at him, eyes glazed over. He shook his head.
Right. Yeah. He could fix this. Grian was totally equipped to deal with whatever angst fest Tommy was going through-
He swallowed around the petals climbing back up his throat.
“I’ve got some friends with me too.”
Tommy hummed in the back of his throat, back to staring at the pavement. He’d set his taco down in its tray next to him. He’d barely eaten.
Fuck, Grian was just making this worse, wasn’t he?
“Look, I-” The cough took him by surprise for the first time since he could remember.
Vaguely, he could see Tommy looking over with concern, and then horror when the flower fell into Grian’s hand.
“Holy shit, man.”
Grian was still trying to steady his breath, closing his hand gently over the flower, hesitating for half a moment before unpinning his pink ribbon and adding the violet with shaking fingers.
“I’m fine.” He ignored the weakness in his voice as he faced Tommy, who was less than convinced. “Really, I am.”
“Right.” Tommy scoffed. “And I could beat Technoblade in a duel.” He paused, looking almost guilty. “Right.” He repeated, much softer. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick-” Wasn’t that Tommy’s whole thing? “and who knows how long you have left, so-” Wow. “I’ll stop being such an asshole.”
Grian stared at him for a moment before scoffing. “You know, I wouldn’t have bought you tacos if I knew you were going to try and be nice to me.”
That certainly got his attention, if the flower hadn’t done enough of that already.
“What?”
“I don’t want special treatment just because I cough up a flower every so often, mate. If I wanted to be treated like some sickly Victorian child, I would’ve introduced myself with the violet yesterday.” He nudged his shoulder into Tommy’s. “Besides, I have it on pretty good authority that this isn’t going to kill me, so the special treatment would be for nothing anyway.”
Tommy must’ve thought he was crazy based on the look he was giving him. “Isn’t going to kill you? Grian, that thing has roots. You could be dead later today for all you know!” He seemed to regret his words the moment they left his mouth, but Grian only shrugged.
“Maybe.” He accepted. “But it wouldn’t be the flowers killing me. I’ve had it for almost six years. If it was going to do me in, don’t you think it would’ve been a while ago?”
Tommy was still treating him differently. But only by a bit. He still snapped at Grian, just looked guilty after.
Grian thought it was a bit funny, if he was being honest with himself.
Mumbo wouldn’t stop staring at the flower pinned to his sweater. Throughout dinner, as they walked to their rooms, as Mumbo joined Grian and Scar in a pile on Scar’s bed, The Princess Bride playing because Scar was a hopeless romantic like that.
And Grian loved Inigo.
“Spit it out.” Grian finally said as Westley and Inigo dueled at the Cliffs of Insanity.
His friend didn’t look like he wanted to, but he did anyway.
“You’ve told me why you like the flowers, mate, but I just-” He let his head fall back against the wall, finally tearing his gaze away from the violet. “All I can think when I see it is that you could’ve been dead by now. I could’ve lost my best friend, Grian, and you don’t seem to care at all.”
Grian could make a joke, something about how the flowers could never have killed him. He could brush it off. He could ignore it.
A voice that wasn’t his own asked how Grian would have felt in Mumbo’s position.
He’d be pissed.
If Mumbo was collecting roses or something, if he was pinning them to his lapel with pride instead of trying to find a way out of it- Grian would be furious.
He wouldn’t have been wiling to lose his friend just because Mumbo didn’t mind the flowers that were blocking his lungs.
Grian hesitated. “...I can’t stop loving him.”
It sounded like a confession instead of a truth all three of them had realized, had known for years, even if neither Scar nor Mumbo knew who the him was. His name still burnt his tongue to say. It still came out stuttered and choked on violets. To say his name was to love him. And a ghost couldn’t love you back, so the flowers only grew and grew and grew until Grian was forced to stop saying it. To forget how it sounded on his lips- to leave his memory to rot everywhere other than Grian’s lungs.
“I tried.”
And that was the confession.
“After the first petal.” He choked one down as he spoke. “I wrote lists of everything he’d ever done to annoy me, every promise he’d ever broken, every lie he ever told-” His breath caught, and for once it wasn’t because of the flowers. He blinked away the tears threatening to fall. “I couldn’t stop loving him, Mumbo. I can’t. He’ll never meet you or Scar. Never visit our sever. He’ll never get to be on his own server again.” He knew his breath was coming in wheezes.
“He trusted me, and-” He heaved for breath, feeling Scar’s hand rubbing between his shoulder blades as Mumbo held one of his hands and he forced two flowers at once out of his throat. “he loved me too.”
And it was the truth.
Even if Grian had never confessed. Even if Taurtis had never said, Grian knew Taurtis had loved him in the way people only knew things after they were too late.
He cradled the flowers he had tried and failed to kill in his free hand. They were mangled, forced together until the petals interlocked and caught together. He couldn’t pry them apart if he wanted to.
To take one from the other would be to destroy them both.
“He would never have stopped loving me.” He did what he could to steady his breathing. “So I can’t stop loving him.”
The games came to a close, and though his team had done about as well as Grian expected, which is to say horribly, Tommy wasn’t as upset as he’d expected.
One of his friends had done quite well, apparently, and that was enough for the teen.
Grian’s own friends were wondering over to the two of them, just close enough to hear when Tommy asked:
“You’re not going to die between now and the next MCC, right? Like, I’m not gonna get a funeral invite, am I?”
Grian laughed harder than he had in awhile while Mumbo gasped, affronted, and Scar tried not to wince. False smirked though, reassuring Tommy that there wouldn’t be a funeral any time soon.
“Good.” Tommy nodded. “You’re tolerable, big man, so we’d better team up again.” He saluted, and off he went to find his own friends.
“Interesting kid you found, Grian.” False commented.
He nodded, following his friends down a less crowded path, more than ready to go back to normal. He was itching to build, really.
Footsteps pounded on the path behind them, probably someone rushing to not miss their portal.
“Wait!”
Grian was the only one who stopped.
“You alright, mate?” Mumbo asked.
He nodded, shaking his head. He could’ve sworn-
“Grian!”
His head turned without his permission. He was hearing things, someone just happened to sound like-
His feet were moving before he could think.
False said something, but he couldn’t hear it over his own pulse.
The ground was solid under his feet, taking him closer and closer to-
“Taurtis?”
He barreled into the man, his laugh ringing in his ears even as they crashed into the dirt, hands clutched his sweater, then ran through his hair. The same hands holding him tight puled him just far back enough to beam at him.
“Hi!”
“Void, I think you’re dead for years and you say ‘hi!” Grian couldn’t help but laugh staring back into those eyes. One blue, one brown. Just the same as he remembered, only older.
He hadn’t thought he’d ever see that.
Taurtis laughed back, but there were tears pooling in his eyes. “I kept sending those invites, I swear I never thought- I thought-”
There was a marigold pinned to his suspender.
He would never have stopped loving me.
Maybe he was moving too fast. Surely, they would need to talk, clear the air- but he did it anyway. One hand propping himself up, he cupped Taurtis’ face and leaned in close, gave him time to speak, to pull away-
Taurtis only pulled him in.
Their lips met, and Taurtis tasted like flowers.
Grian was right. He hadn’t.