Chapter Text
Out of all the color gang, it's weird figuring out that Red wakes up first. With a playful, even sometimes childish demeanor to everything he does, thinking that he wakes up whatever time he wants is a great guess. But when the gang decides to start keeping busy around the Minecraft dimensions connected through their PC's nether portal, they are soon proven wrong.
Back in their normal house, at the stickfights webpage, they weren't used to eating breakfast in the morning. They just woke themselves up to spar for a while, and when they got tired they hung around playing games and whatnot. However, with their new villager, piglin and mob friends they've met through their recent adventures, they enjoy helping in each communities’ daily chores; and they have to get up early to get them done.
Second, Yellow and Blue have taken on a gigantic task over at the musketeers’ village, convincing the Titan Ravagers to help in a trade route project. Pairing the optimized farmland with an efficient means of transportation, they've connected many villages with roads to be able to trade for higher quality ore. With the help of Blue’s interdimensional networking, even the piglins have benefitted from the trade, bringing gold, netherrack, basalt and many more products into the market. All this is used to improve the village defenses, as they're now busy expanding swordsmanship to their ally towns, in an effort to quell pillaging.
As for Green, he’s had trouble with his songwriting lately; and now routinely makes trips to the Note Block world. Delving into musical theatre, he spends the evenings listening to the villagers musicalize their chores. This has helped him develop grounded plots with great musical numbers, getting a couple drafts going. Purple isn’t really comfortable going back there yet, so they get together at their treehouse to discuss and give feedback on yesterday’s progress. If there isn't any, they’re always happy to give suggestions.
But Red is a whole different story. He’s always late for breakfast, busy in the early hours of morning feeding his animals. There’s a chicken coop in a folder within the Storage tab, that’s for sure; but the cows, sheep and horses have their own fenced grasslands to roam and graze. All this is within a new nether portal Red created, far away from enemies they’ve encountered before and not bothering the worlds that already existed before their sudden presence. In his private and well-loved farm world, he also keeps most of his pets. Besides the open space needed for the ample prairies and wheat fields, it is surrounded by luscious trees, wide rivers and steep hills, on which Red has applied various climates with the command block staff. This way, he keeps all his animals in the perfect conditions to live happily. Once a day, every time the sun rises, Red is out there harvesting and handing out plentiful food for each of his animal friends. Every morning, every day, in a moment of calm with each and every one of them.
Petting the foxes, wolves and wild cats. Greet the llamas, donkeys and mules, send their regards to the horses. Catching up with parrot gossip, sitting on his own perch near the birdhouses. Dive into the lake of fish, try to find his favorite squid. Climb and catch up to the goats. Talk to the cows, about anything. They like listening.
The hours of dawn are peaceful, waiting until the last moment; before the sky shifts from pinks and purples into the early morning blue.
Red returns every day. Their friends have woken up. They hurry to the breakfast table, and listen attentively to all their friends have to say. In the rare case a meal is quiet, they comment on his morning to the gang. They wrap things up, and the day officially begins.
“Hey, Red?” Second arrives at the breakfast table as late as him. Worst of all, he doesn’t start his day straight away; the after-breakfast twenty minute power-nap is a must for him to even be productive at all.
“heya, what's up?” He responds in a volume that doesn’t startle his friend. He’s gotten used to it, mimicking the tone he uses to lull the bats asleep every sunrise.
“I wanted to bring it up before we finished breakfast, but I figured I should ask you first. After all, it might be a bit too disruptive to your routine specifically.” What’s this? Second alluding to the existence of early hours? Red’s favorite time of day, that his friend has never experienced, ever? what event could the stick even fathom, located so prematurely in his own perception of time—
“Would you like to go camping someday? Over at a new village we found there is a giant forest you might like to see.”
Hmm. A two days’ worth of outing, he says. He’d have trouble explaining that to the bees. They're quite used to the daily selection of flowers, delivered in pretty bouquets.
“give me a week! i’ll have it sorted out by then. i hope a great day comes your way~” A quick see-you-later to continue the routine.
Back in the gang's bedroom, Reuben sleeps lightly on Red's bottom bunk, next to the mattress. He crawls in and hugs the pig carefully, so as to not startle the little guy. After all, it wakes up for snuggles at four o'clock sharp, and enjoys the rest of its slumber undisturbed. Only to be woken up after breakfast, for its own breakfast.
They get up together at noon. Red helps Blue in the kitchen, lunch is served, and then cleaned up. Afterwards, as his friends leave for their busy afternoons, he gets the house chores out of the way, and leaves later to accompany their friends. Not as involved in whatever they do, but enjoys hanging around.
Red enjoys jumping around different tasks, places and people everyday, but his morning routine is a welcome habit that keeps him organized, at least a little bit.
Constant movement and pattern, things staying and changing. It keeps him grounded. It keeps him distracted.
* * *
The day of the camping trip, Red woke up ten minutes earlier. He had left heftier bundles of hay and larger portions of feed prepared yesterday, and took his favorite mule on a cart ride. Delivering each animals’ form of nourishment was such an integral part of Red’s day, he felt a slight feeling of unease deep within. But it’s silly, he thought; it’ll only be a day. He looks back, thinking of his furry friends who he already fed on this sooner-than-what’s-normal morning. It’s not that the animals won’t miss him, it’s just that he finds it weird how simply they accepted change compared to him.
He brushes off the thought; that the week to prepare was for him.
* * *
Second leads up front, and the rest follow behind. Every five minutes or so, Yellow and Blue switch whoever is carrying the tent. It’s heavy, and alongside some backpacks and baskets with food, they could’ve used his cart from earlier.
They walk for a while, as Red accidentally keeps kicking the picnic basket with his knees. The canopy filters the sunlight overhead, creating a refreshing early-spring climate under its shade. Following mossy stones bathed by a tiny forest brook, they arrive at a clearing filled with flowers.
Red lies down. Taking a breather, admiring the flowers. The rest sit down close by, as Blue complains about something.
“Nonononono, we can’t camp here!!! You see this over here? Those are native flowers!!! Not every species of wildflower is as common, y’know??”
“But squishing them with a tent and a blanket won’t kill them…” Green sighs, tired of carrying a backpack in each arm.
“You wanted to build a campfire, didn’t you?”
Walking again, Red can’t get over how far he is from home. He didn’t even let Reuben come, given how far away this forest is… he had left him in a place he trusts, with the other pigs in his farm.
They came to a stop. The rest are setting up the tent in the outskirts of the forest, where the woodland began to disperse and the sun hit a bit bolder; on a drier patch of ground.
But the feeling of uneasiness hasn’t left yet. Red’s vision becomes unfocused, as he looks aimless to the mountains in the distance. Where is he even? The sun points towards early evening, as it is synced up with the PC’s real time. He would be doing whatever at this hour. So why does a new place as welcoming as this not count as “whatever”?
“Red???” Yellow turns him around, tugging at this shoulder. It feels a bit too sudden, and he responds with an agitated expression.
“what?”
“I’ve… I called you like five times, did you not hear any of it?”
Red hadn’t heard them at all. That’s bad. How long had it been since their friends finished putting the tent up? How long has it been for them to discuss where to go get wood, and what to cook next in the campfire? Yellow and Second were about to head out, and wanted Red to come with them. Did he not hear the conversation at all?...was he even there?
… how long had he been dissociating.
* * *
Red was out of it the entire evening. After some quick skewers, the color gang extinguished the flame and went on a hike before the sun could set. The highlands near the forest had colder winds dancing through, which was enjoyable when resting and stopping for a quick snack. The colors of the sky were beautiful. Warm oranges, reds and pinks lined the golden light in the horizon, guiding the clouds to reflect vibrant purples at dusk. When the darker blues began seeping in and the stars became clearer in the twilight, they began heading back.
With the help of handheld lanterns, they arrived at the campsite with no light remaining in the sky. A new moon was rising, and they all decided it was time to sleep.
Second, Yellow and Blue were out cold in five minutes, at most. Green struggled for a while, but surrendered to slumber halfway through humming a lullaby.
But Red couldn’t sleep. Something was bothering him. Maybe the lack of a bed? But the grass underneath the tent floor and blankets was lush and almost mattress-y, and the tent was warm and comfortable. There was nothing wrong.
* * *
Until something went wrong.
Red had drifted away while thoughts piled up, and woke up laying on the grass outside. Outside? Red has had bouts of sleepwalking before, but he thought his unconscious self would only ever do it in the safety of his home (if it could even count as safe, considering the multiple flights of stairs).
Worst of all, he wasn’t alone. Well, he was, but it sure didn’t feel like it.
He had never wanted his friends to know. In his bottom bunk, next to Second and under Green, Red would always wake up staring sideways at the door, where the entity stood. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, or to think or to call out. And the thing would stand there. And he would be terrified every hour, minute, second of it. And then it was gone.
Red had never bolted upright after a sleep terror. He would only gasp quietly, becoming conscious of the breathing and shaking. In a cold sweat, he would brush it off until the next morning. Until then, he hugged Reuben closer and covered himself with blankets and plushies.
But Reuben was not next to him this time. Neither were his plushies, his blankets, his friends. There was no door this time, either.
And so the thing got closer.
Red had no clue how long he lay stiff, breathless, petrified on the grass. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. The wind blew calmly, as if leaving him behind. The blinding white eyes within the darkness got closer, then stepped out of the bushes. The shape was barely distinguishable from the foliage, but it was there. Then he blinked. And it stopped.
For the first time ever, Red jolted awake with a deafening cry. It was loud, tears scurrying down his face. His breathing was frantic, more akin to pleading for the mere sensation of air in his lungs. But the thing was still there, he could feel it. And so he took off, making a run for it. For safety, for his life, and to find an ending to this. Something told him he would find it in the horizon line.
* * *
“huh?... aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”
A moment of confusion followed by an earsplitting shriek woke the rest of the color gang, as Green shook away seemingly dozens of fireflies off himself. An accidental flutter of wings as he tossed in his sleep made him open his eyes to find the bugs crawling on his face. The others sat up, scattering the remaining insects onto the tent’s ceiling. Blue stood up to open a zipper, and the fireflies flew away in the night sky.
“That’s… pretty, don’t you think?” Blue smirks at the guy holding his blanket over his face.
“NO!!! I DON’T THINK IT’S PRETTY AT ALL!!!!!!!!!” Green enjoyed Minecraft quite a lot. But when bugs eventually got added, he discovered he was absolutely horrified by their existence. This should’ve been foreshadowed by his prior aversion to cave spiders.
Yellow and Second barely woke up. Laying back down, they moved closer together, cuddling in an effort to fall back asleep. But something was wrong. They opened their eyes in unison, and it dawned on them at the same time; that empty spot wasn’t there before.
“Where in the cursors—” Yellow started, as Second crawled outside to light a lantern. As he waved it around, he saw a particularly trampled patch of grass opposite to any of the places they’ve come from, back into the forest. That must be it, everyone take a jacket. They’re heading out, and want to be quick about it too. Who knows where their friend might be by now.
* * *
Red keeps rushing through the thicket, staggering every few steps. His hands and knees are scraped and bleeding from the many times he has tripped over himself.
He sees a village in the distance. If that’s the village where they came from, that means he would only need to follow the road back to the musketeers’ town, crossing the nether to get back home. Yes, that’s what he wants. In any case, it’s the only thought that’s making sense in his head right now. The rest is just noise that makes it hard to not scratch himself on prickly bushes.
Suddenly, he’s falling. The brook they followed to get to the clearing was born from a river after all, and he had found it. Stumbling headfirst, he rolled down the rocky slope down to the water. The boulders were mossy and the splash had stung his eyes with dirt, so he stopped moving for a second, unable to hold anything to get up. Red lay within the flowing river, the stream cascading onto his back.
There, under the trees and the dark sky, his thoughts started unraveling. The sloshing of the current returned a clearer perception of his body, and he could finally hear what his head was trying to tell him.
You need to get away, lest they get hurt on your behalf. It will be your fault, no matter if you attempt to stop it. Get away before they’re harmed once more.
Red had never given himself the time to process neither of the possessions he’s gone through. He had to get back up, back to his friends. But how could he? He felt dangerous every time the aftermath presented itself before him. The damage to the PC, the rubble of the fortress. Fragments of obsidian he’d use to seal the memory away.
He felt scared. He thought it had no chance of happening again, but the monster does not think the same way he does. He executes, destroys what’s necessary. Even if it means wrecking his sense of agency.
He feels as though responses like this will drive his friends away. But he also knows it’s irrational. They’ve gone through so much together, and he knows that wouldn’t stop now, right? They wouldn’t leave him. But these thoughts are going back and forth in his head, his emotions keep getting the better of him. And he’s missing equilibrium, a sense of balance and peace, that doesn’t need constant routine and distractions to keep his mind from collapsing on itself. A part that it took from him, it seems.
His friends would find him in due time. The campsite was far away, and the dense forest only made it harder for him to be seen leaning on the rocks bordering the river. However, when met with lights in the distance, Red started sobbing rather loudly. They came for him, of course they did, but they also could not have bothered. But this is very important to him. Does it prove they love him? That they won’t leave him behind? That they care.
And if they care, that means he could eventually face them, with whatever face he has right now. Even if it’s welled up in tears.
He hugs his legs, sitting on the shallow border of the stream. His friends arrive, and he can’t really walk or stand up to hug them. Everything hurts, even if the dirt and blood has been washed away. They sit down beside him.
And they hug. The warmth unravels every knot inside his throat, and Red tells them everything. The recurring nightmares, the constant night terrors, and what it all feels like inside. Until he can’t anymore.
The silence is not deafening, but comforting. The pressure on his wounds reminds him they’re there, and they’re real.
The sun rises slowly in the sky, and they stay by his side to admire it through the tears.
* * *
Second carries him gently. Out of all his friends, Red has the most raw strength, but the hollow-head is catching up to him in that regard. It catches him by surprise. He hadn’t been held like this, ever. Well, he has been held, whether it be caught by Purple during their fight with— yeah, that time. He was barely conscious, so it doesn’t count. Maybe by Green, during his moments of cheeky mockery while dodging the many pastries while trying to prank him? He felt pretty manhandled back then. There were many instances of being caught, or flung or grabbed. But this was different. Tender, soft and kind.
To mold your rough force into benevolence and forgiveness, transcending what’s spoken and still, having everything be heard.
To bring him all the way from the creek back to their tent, as the sky abandons its pinkish hues. He sets him down, as Blue cleans and bandages the scrapes. Every time he flinches, they pause. There are still some bugs remaining near them, seen through the entrance left open. And after looking at them for a bit, they resume care for the wounds. Such pauses like this weren’t allowed back during their adventures in the nether, having the aftermath hit them all like a truck back in their home. Bruises, burns, and lightheadedness that they got over together, as time went by and tiny moments arose to let them heal. This felt different, it felt new. The two stayed together in silence after that. And Blue wrapped his arms around him, careful with each scrape, and placed his head on the other’s shoulder.
To have a moment like this last forever, to stay together through the hurt. And to let you hold me and heal me, in a way only you know how. How nice it would be for you to see me, broken into unsubstantial pieces, and know exactly what to do with me.
They packed things up and went back home. Red could make the walk back through the portals, but they still wouldn’t give him anything to carry. His scuffed knees would hurt as he kicked things, and the others knew it was a habit hard to adjust. Green started humming the songs Red helped him write. Breaking up the silence, the melody made the journey back bearable. Ever since the fight, he couldn’t go through the hellish dimension without the soundtrack overshadowing every rational thought, pounding inside his head in a way one could only assume was imaginary, reminding him of every sharp pain felt back then. Then, his friend held his hand, and signaled for him to hum along. He knew the song by heart, why wouldn’t he?
To help me drive all evil away, and clear my head when needed. May you always know what to do with me, against every storm. For I yearn to repay this someday. But for now, just today, may you cradle me in the confines of your own mind, and not mine.
They reach their home. Red walks upstairs, and slumps over their bed. He forgot to pick up Reuben from the farm, so he settles with a pig plushie that looks just like him instead. But it’s not enough. Suddenly, Yellow walks in, laptop in hand. “Would you like to read with me? About what you’ve been going through? It could be of help, and…” They sit together, slightly cramped in the single bed. But Red rests comfortably at their side. And they read. About panic, and terror, and pain. About trauma and memories too weighted to move away. About ways to overcome and succeed, and how to get up after you fail. With each new paragraph, every word read, the hug becomes a little tighter, until the device is placed aside. Yellow envelops him in an embrace, and they remain that way for a while. Just like they did, all together on the sofa, after…
Red finally understands what is weighing him down. Every moment ties back to a harmful recollection, taking him back to an echo of pain. Constant reminders such as this have fueled nightmares, and caused restless nights since the event each stemmed from. But how could he let go? Could he ever forget? With all he now knew, the most probable answer was no.
Hold me and care for me. You will not only know me, but find out about all I am and all I’m not. And I need you to stay. Through every flaw, through every cry, and pain. Because only then will I feel understood. And you will understand.
Because you try so hard to love me. And when I realize that, I’ll cry.
These are the tears I’ve longed for.
* * *
The next morning, Red wakes up and finds everyone asleep around him. Yellow, Second, Green and Blue seem to have fought over who got to hug him, given the mess of blankets and plushies around them. The mattress has been pushed towards the bed, and pillows have been piled up to make either a nest or a fort, it’s very hard to tell. But, even if it sounds childish, this is it. His safest place in the whole wide world.
Red wakes up first. But for the first time in a while, he has slept through the night.