Chapter Text
For possibly the first time in their life, The Second Coming woke up when their alarm went off.
Well, maybe that wasn’t true. But it was the first time they had actually gotten out of bed when it went off. And voluntarily too. In fact, Second hadn’t even tried to hit the snooze button or to cover their head in a pillow. No, today the alarm had gone off, they’d tapped the button, thrown off the blanket, and gotten out of bed.
And then after that, they got dressed! No staring off into space for a few minutes or trudging to the dresser or laying on the floor, too lazy to pick out an outfit. They had simply gone into their dresser and pulled out an orange polo shirt and grey sweatpants.
Second only noticed how easy they had gotten up when they started to walk to the bathroom, checked their watch, and saw it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. Usually the whole getting out of bed and getting dressed routine took well past 7, but today they were dressed and it was only 6:53.
Now, this would have been weird enough on a normal day, but it was especially strange given what had happened the day before. Second was surprised they were even able to sleep considering what happened. Yet still, here they were, not even the slightest bit tired or even sore from the many stab wounds they had collected the day prior. In fact, said stab wounds didn’t even appear to have left a scar on Second’s tangerine body. The only suggestion they might have happened were some faded codestains on the polo shirt they had worn yesterday.
Second debated this for a moment but eventually figured their body must have been completely regenerated when they were revived. That was the only logical explanation after all… Right?
They ignored their doubts as they made it to the bathroom and brushed their teeth. Apart from the strange energy that fueled their body, it was a fairly normal morning. Second heard some casual bickering between Yellow and Red, Green singing as he took a shower, and the sizzle of vegetarian bacon being grilled by Blue downstairs. It put Second into a somewhat relaxed state as they reached for their hairbrush and prepared to comb their brownish orange locks.
And then Second noticed something.
It was faded, barely visible in the dim yellow light of the bathroom, but it was there. They blinked and squinted their eyes at the mirror, trying to tell if this was some sort of weird trick their eyes were playing on them.
But no, this was real.
Barely visible, just noticeable enough to catch Second’s eye, peeking from their scalp were the roots of Second’s hair.
And they were green.
Second stood there for a moment, trying to process this. That… wasn’t there last night, was it? No… This was new.
“Stick, stick, stick…” Second mumbled under their breath. What now? What were they supposed to do? They checked their watch.
6:58.
That gave Second 22 minutes to figure out what to do before Blue called them down for breakfast.
It’s not like the hair was going to retract back into Second’s skull, and they didn’t have any orange hair dye. Why would they? Their hair was already orange.
“Except now, for some reason.” Second sighed and rolled their eyes as they wracked their brain for options.
They couldn’t just cut it out, since it was at the top of their head, and dying it wasn’t an option either. Desperate, Second ran back into their room and pulled an old purple hoodie out of a drawer, put it on and tugged the hood strings alllll the way out. One last check in the mirror confirmed their green roots were safely hidden behind the soft fabric.
Second was about to let out a sigh of relief, but something stopped them. The hoodie didn’t solve their problems, just hide them.
Something about this felt… strange to Second. Not just the fact that their hair had randomly decided to grow out a different color, but that combined with the timing and the strange energy they felt that morning… They had to figure this out. But this time it wasn’t something they could investigate with their friends. No, this was just for Second.
Second didn’t have any more time to ponder this, as they were dragged back into the present with the sound of Blue calling them to breakfast.
They lagged for a moment, staring into nothingness before barreling down the stairs and skidding to a stop at the table.
Blue stood there with a gentle smile, their white chefs hat riding atop their cobalt locks. Their hair was always perfectly trimmed and combed, moisturized with conditioner they brewed themself in the cauldron they kept below the sink. “Easy there, Second.” They chuckled, setting a plate down on the table and propping their hand on their hip. “We’re not having pizza for breakfast again, no need to rush.”
Second shrugged and said, “You never know how Green or Red will act when they get to the table.”
“True. I think Red has been desensitized to polite eating, after hanging out with Reuben so often.”
“Hey!” Speak of the devil, Red appeared, tumbling down the stairs and jumping over the last three steps. He frowned and slid into his seat. “Reuben is a very polite eater for a pig.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Second rolled their eyes. They were glad to see Red hadn’t lost too much spunk after what happened the day before. His hair sprung up in crimson frizzles and bobbed about his chin. Red typically forgot to brush it, which would lead to Blue eventually grabbing a comb and pinning him down to get the knots out.
After a moment, Red helped himself to the vegetarian bacon Blue had set out, and Blue continued grilling hashbrowns and chopping up bananas. Second tried to ease into the morning, but even though everything seemed relatively normal, something felt… off. The energy felt dimmer, fainter than normal. Second couldn’t explain it. Even though Red was smiling and chewing away and Blue seemed calm, it didn’t feel real.
Second couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Maybe it was just the oddity of what was hidden under their hood.
Or maybe, most likely, none of them could forget what happened.
Yellow soon came out of her room, not smiling but not frowning either. The bags under her eyes told Second that she had also had an uneasy night. She’d slept in her clothes, a jean jacket and leggings, and her golden hair was still tied up into a ponytail. “Morning,” she muttered, attempting a smile as she sat down at the table.
The other three echoed her, barely looking up from what they were doing. Blue put the rest of the food at the table and sat down next to Yellow.
More silence.
Usually the breakfast table was filled with discussions of plans for the day or the future, or strange dreams someone had had, but today it was silent.
-Because of what happened.-
Green was the last member of the gang to come downstairs. His headphones were half on, clutched to his ear with one hand. The other pulled out a chair at the table. Green waved gently. “Hey.” His emerald hair was still slick from the shower, and the shoulders of his hoodie were moist from the drips.
Second returned his gesture and tried to smile, but now they could tell. The table was completely silent, the air thick with thoughts. Five friends, and none of them had a word to say.
Second wasn’t used to the silence. With the friends they had, they were lucky to get a moment's worth. It put a strange feeling in their gut, to not hear their voices.
-Maybe because yesterday, they thought they would never hear them again.-
For what felt like ages, the only sounds were the whirring of the PC’s fans, the clinging of forks on plates, and the gentle snoring of Alan in his bed. Then finally, someone spoke up.
“So…” said Yellow, her voice cracking slightly. “Are we just… not gonna talk about what happened?”
Hearing those words surprised Second. Their hands twisted into fists, grinding their fingernails into their palms. They didn’t know what to think, how to feel. Despite the shivers that ran down their spine, they could feel the sweat soaking into their fingertips.
“Hopefully, yes.” Red spat, flinging a chunk of hash browns with his fork. He glared into his food, but Second could see he was just putting on a strong face. His eyes threatened to spill tears at any moment.
“Are we just going to ignore it? How we came back, how somehow he was defeated, how we died? Who those sticks even were?” Yellow continued. The despair was well hidden in her voice, but Second knew. Second always knew.
Blue put a hand on Yellow’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t have to talk about it.”
“So we’re just not gonna talk about the biggest event to happen in our lives? Wow, sounds great.” Green rolled his eyes, but he genuinely looked hurt.
“Green, you should know best of all of us that we can respawn.” Blue shot back.
A pang of guilt shot through Second at the reminder of the PVP incident. They’d been the one to accidentally kill Green. Over some stupid turf war. They remembered how relieved they had been when they saw him alive and well.
“But Blue, this is real life, not Minecraft!” Yellow shouted. “I watched all of you die. I… I want to know why you didn't.” Yellow’s eyes were glistening behind her glasses.
“STOP!” Red covered his ears and stared down at the table. “I don't want to talk about this anymore! I don't want to!”
“This isn't something we can just let go of!” Green shot back. Without warning, Green pulled up his hoodie to reveal a long dark streak across his chest. A scar. “You don't forget dying. You don't forget your friends dying. That's something you can never forget.”
The shouting continued, insults hurled back and forth, opening old wounds. And Second just stood there, frozen. Just like-
Just like they had when they died.
They had just stood there and watched as they defended them, and they dissolved into nothingness.
Why didn't they move? Why didn't they help? Maybe they could have done something! It was their idea to follow them down there in the first place, and even after the showdown was over, the fight hadn't ended.
-It was their fault.-
They had heard that phrase a million times before from the back of their mind. Somehow, anytime something went wrong, anytime someone got hurt or something got lost or anything like that, it was their fault. Their brain always whispered that, and always found some sort of way to make them believe it.
It was their fault.
Four words.
Four words that burned.
Four words that roared in the back of their mind.
Four words that circled above them, ready to strike at any minute.
Four words that in Second’s short four year life, had caused more pain to them than any virablade ever could.
“Stop.” They said the word so quietly that no one but them could even hear it, but even so, it changed something. The energy they had felt since they had woken up felt stronger now.
They were doing something.
“Stop.” Second repeated the word, louder this time, and their hands clenched into fists. And though their friends ignored them, though they kept arguing like nothing happened, it seemed to not matter as much now. Like it was falling away.
“STOP!” This time it was a yell, and Second could've sworn they felt a blast of energy at that moment. The arguing stopped. Red, Yellow, Blue and Green all looked at Second, each scared and angry for their own reasons. Second looked back at all of them and breathed in.
“Stop. P-please. I…” they huffed. What words even worked for what they were trying to say? “I lost you all yesterday. I lost you all because-”
-Of me.-
“Because I was scared. I… understand you're scared right now, and I am too. But I don't want us to lose each other, so please, stop fighting.”
Time seemed to freeze for a moment as the sticks just stood there. Second finally let out a breath and said, “I'm going back to bed.” They noticed the looks shared between their friends, but didn't stop as they returned back to their room. The weird energy from that morning seemed to have run its course, and their usual tiredness set in fast, dragging them down.
Before they collapsed into bed, though, they did one last thing. They had to make sure it was -still there- real. In the secrecy of their bathroom, Second peeked under the hood.
And their roots were still bright green.