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Mumbo looks upwards, through the trees.
Branches sway in the wind. Here and there, a needle drifts down. The summer has been hot, many leaves are coloured brown and burned, falling from the sky in a pale imitation of autumn.
Still, the tree cover covers more than enough of the sky for Mumbo to doubt the effectiveness of their trip here.
He looks at down at Grian sitting by his side, both leaning against the sturdy trunk. Shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg.
Despite this, Mumbo can't help but feel a certain distance seperating them.
Grian asked him here and now he was acting strange, to say the least. Had been, for a while now.
"Grian", Mumbo begins, "Why are we here?"
He backpaddle simmediately as Grian winces, "Not that I mind of course— I love spending time with you, I always do, just — You built an observatory+"
Mumbo gestures towards the vaguest shape that still renders, a faint glow through the trees.
"So just, I mean, why are we stargazing here?+"
His body has tunred fully to face Grian, "And you don't even like stargazing! You always complain how boring it is and— and we can't even see the stars+! We're— we're branch-gazing, if anything." Mumbo takes care to soften his voice as he searches for Grian's eyes, "What's going on?"
Mumbo had been in bed when Grian messaged him. He'd gotten up — sleeping was a futile effort anyway — and put on his suit.
He took the scenic route through the trees to meet a very jittery Grian at the observatory, then was unceremoniously dragged right back into the forest. To stargaze. Or rather, to 'stargaze'.
Mumbo had gotten suspicious, then.
Grian had none of the vital things for stargazing: Hot chocolate, blankets, stars+, you know the deal.
The floor was still slightly damp from the storm that day and cooled down rapidly with nightfall, as did the air.
"I just wanted to spend time with you", Grian says now, averting his eyes, "is that such a bad thing?"
The sentiment might tug at Mumbo's heartstrings, but still, "Grian. You know it's not. You don't have+ to tell me what's wrong, you know, but I know+ something is."
Grian's dark eyes dart up, then quickly away again as he realizes Mumbo's eyes are still fixed on Grian's own.
Mumbo turns away. Grian, Mumbo has learned, prefers to talk when he's not being watched.
Instead, Mumbo presses his own body closer to Grian's, feeling him shiver.
From nervousness or the cold, Mumbo can't tell.
"You can tell me anything, you know? Or nothing, that's fine to", he squeezes Grina's hand, "I'm sure I can talk enough for both of us, if you don't want to talk at all — or I be silent, if you want that?"
No matter how often Mumbo does this, it never gets any easier. How does he know if he's doing the right thing? He'll never fix+ something, that is one thing he learned to understand, but how does he know if he's helping?
It's thoughts like these that keep him up in nights like this.
"I've just been stupid", Grian mumbles. "I couldn't sleep. Just the same nightmares as always."
Oh Grian. Mumbo's heart goes out in sympathy for his friend once again. He doesn't say anything, just gives Grian's hand another squeeze. Grian squeezes back.
"I didn't want to bother you, so I thought, well— I was being stupid."
Mumbo cpnsiders what he should say to that. If he should say anything at all.
He probably should, he decides. But what. Grian does bother him, sometimes, but never like this+. Grian bothers him when he waxes the Copper Mumbo wants oxydised and when Mumbo returns to find his suits hanging wrinkles and scuffed from the shoulders of cardboard figures.
But bothering Mumbo is an essential part of Grian+. Of Grian's role in Mumbo's life. He would be so much less, without Grian bothering him.
"I live being bothered by you", he eventually says, then adds on hurriedly, "Please do bother me!"
Mumbo glances at Grian as he hears him chuckle, then catches himself and looks back the the lights of Xisuma's village, warm and bright through the trees.
"Please do bother me, Grian", he repeats, quiet and serious, "I'm always just a short flight away. Or a walk— walks are nice. A nice walk through the trees", he squeezes Grian's hand again, "Or a call. I'll always come when you call, I promise."
Sniffles.
Grian+ sniffles.
"Grian!", Mumbo exclaims free hand fluttering around, "I'm sorry! Did I say something wrong, oh gosh, I'm so bad at this!"
Mumbo's other hand is caught, too, by Grian's, who laughs wetly.
"You fine, Mumbo", Grian says and smiles, teeth clattering as soon as his lips part. Faintly, the wet tracks on his cheeks glimmer in the traces of moonlight that make it through the trees.
(Another thing that isn't great for stargazing — the light pollution from the moon)
"You're perfect."
Grian continues, "And you're not bad at this, you're great! You make everything better."
Blood rushes up to the very tips of Mumbo's pointed ears and colours them blue.
Hair tickles Mumbo's neck as Grian's head falls onto his shoulder, their two pairs of hands still intertwined in their laps.
Mumbo frees one of his hands and wraps it around Grian's shoulders, pulling him closer.
In return, he gets a yawn. Long and drawn out and so dramatically Grian that Mumbo chuckles, before he too is interrupted by a yawn of his own.
Grian yawn's again, and they both laugh, their joy echoing through the trees.
Two hands are shoved clammy and cold as they are below Mumbo's dress shirt and onto the skin of his belly. An act that makes Mumbo wince, to Grian's giggling joy.
Grian yawns again, his breath hot on Mumbo's chest even through the layers of fabric.
He tucks Grian closer. Just because Mumbo can't sleep doens't mean that Girna has to stay awake, too.
"I'll stay awake", he promises Grian in a whisper and pulls him even closer, "you can sleep."
Grian mumbles into Mumbo's chest.
Soon after, a soft snoring fills Mumbo's ears.
The night is peaceful.
And Mumbo looks upwards, through the trees.