Archive of Our Own

Minute, with his hands bound and eyes covered by some sort of blindfold, sighs out loud into the empty room he was trapped in.

It was stupid. He made one stupid mistake and got caught. Had he been any less of the massive idiot he is, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe if anybody but him was doing this ridiculously important job, they wouldnt have fucked it up like he did. 

Hes the problem. In every solution Minute can think of to possibly have avoided what happened, it all dwindles down to the fact he caused it. 

He hasn't slept in who knows how many days, he hasn't eaten a proper meal in weeks- surviving purely off gapples and the small bits of water inside his potions of invisibility. 

Regardless, had he been in better shape than he was, theres still the very real possibility that, simply because he is who he is, he would've still been caught.

As he is wallowing in self pity, a hand gently cupping his jaw forces his lips to part, a cracked gasp slipping from the back of his throat. 

“Breathe.” 

His body goes rigged. Awesome. Just awesome. Not only had he been caught, but he'd been caught by ClownPierce himself. Just great.

Minute can't help but laugh, low and full of self-loathing. head tipping backwards, hanging in the air behind him. 

If he focused, which he was struggling to do, he would smell nothing besides Clown. The distinct scent of gun powder and blood. An awful combination that made a pit form in the bottom of his stomach. Using what little bit of sanity he had left, he realized that meant they were up high. If no other smells were able to leak through the crack of a door, there mustn't be any smells around at all. 

Giggling, he goes slack, letting the rope hold him up, letting it shoulder the weight of the burden he is. 

Oh yeah, he's going to die here. 

Clowns hand, which was still cupping his jaw, tightened, thumb pushing up against his submental. 

Through the velvet glove, he can feel a finely manicured nail threatening to pierce his skin.  

“Hey, Minute.” The voice above him is a slow, low drawl, lacking its usual twinge of amusement. “You're freaking out. It's making it hard to, you know, talk to you?” 

He laughs, again, more primal sounding this time. He wasn't even good at being kidnapped. 

Minute snorts, cackling to himself while the warmth on his jaw recedes. 

He can feel the gaze on him, the way it oozes confusion and what feels like concern– Minute snorts again. As if. 

He startles out of his hysteria when the blindfold covering his eyes is un-knotted, pooling into the palm of Clowns awaiting hands. 

Minute tightly shuts his eyes, squeezing so hard he can already feel a headache licking at the back of his eyelids. 

Clowns hands slowly slide up his arms till they rest on his shoulders, the pads of his thumbs rubbing in slow circling movements. 

Minute pauses, annoyed at himself as he feels the tension in his body melt away wherever Clowns warmth covers. 

“You know,” Minutes hackles raise at the mocking tone he oh-so clearly can hear. 

“It’s kind of cute, having you tied up like this completely freaking out. You don't know why you're here, so why are you so scared?” 

Minute pauses, eyebrows furrowing. What the hell does that mean? He's here because he was caught. Clown knows what he's been doing now and is going to kill him. Obviously?  

“I can practically hear you thinking oh-so hard, pretty boy.” 

Minute blanks. all thoughts falling out of his brain and muddling into a very eloquent, “huh?” 

Clowns' twinge of amusement is back in his tone as his hands slide down Minutes shoulders to his back, lower and lower till he reaches his hips, squeezing hard enough to ache. 

Again, dumbly, he repeats himself, “huh?” 

Clown– now chuckling with a vibration so low Minute swears to everything his ribcage is rattling alongside it– releases his grip and raises his hands back up, then down. 

He is rubbing Minutes back. 

“The fuck?” He gracefully voices, eyes finally peeling open in pure unadulterated confusion. He startles when he sees two mismatched coloured eyes staring back. His sight went blurry, eyes crossing as he tried to understand what he was looking at– who he was looking at. 

The mask he had been expecting was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind pale skin, bitten red lips and a large scar expanding from the left side of the man's jaw up to his right eye. 

Minute blinks once, then twice, then a few more times for emphasis. 

“huh?” 

“I hope Ferre wasn't too rough with you.” Clown pouts, and reality slowly sinks into Minutes body. Oh. He is looking at Clowns face. Not a mask but his real face. 

Minute shuts his eyes. 

A hand pinched his side, forcing his eyes to open again. Clowns frowning, staring at Minute with a disapproving gaze.

“You know, I'm kind of hurt that you haven't even said anything. I was expecting a gasp at the very least. Perhaps an ‘ooh,’ or an ‘aah.’” 

“Why am I here, Clown.” Minute says instead, voice strained as he pulls half-wittedly at the constraints around his wrists. 

Clown tsks and takes a step forward, hands raising up Minute's arms and to his hands, linking their fingers together. The jester is on his tip-toes now, pressing their noses together. 

Minute tries to pull back, put any distance between them, but he's completely stuck. Forced to stare down the slope of his own nose into Clowns eyes. 

“Now, if you may, answer my previous question?” Clown asks with a bright smile, poking his nose against Minutes briefly before pulling back, landing back on his heels. His hands are still attached to Minutes, causing his arms to be held up awkwardly, caging Minute in place. 

“I don't remember. I think he knocked me out.” 

Clowns expression drops and he lets go of Minutes hands, taking several steps back. 

“Is that right?” 

Minute recognizes the tone instantly, feels the hair on his arms stand up, his own nervous system recognizing that tone alone as a threat. 

“No- I didn't really leave him any other choice. I-” Minute clears his throat before his voice can crack and show how desperate he is to explain, to stop Clown from possibly killing somebody. 

“I was putting up a fight.” 

Clown grins and laughs lightly, bounding forward again until he can throw his arms around Minutes' neck, embracing him. 

“Oh did you? My little Minutetech is so strong, isn't he? I hope you hit Ferre a bunch.” Clown preens, rubbing his head against Minutes neck. 

Minute stiffly nods, “yeah, I did. So why'd you bring me here, Clown? We haven't interacted much, have we? Beyond you almost killing me a few times during the Mafia.” 

Clown sighs and pulls back, resting his hands on his hips, “that wasn't my idea. I was being paid by Ash back then, as you know. I liked it better when you were on Ashes side and we got to do missions together. However, it was wonderful watching the fight you put up against Ash and I each time. I never cared for Ash, but I enjoyed the mental games he played on everyone. It was all so entertaining.” 

Minute swallows and nods once, “yeah.” 

“You dont seem very happy to be here, Minute. Why? I thought you were nosing around here for information weren't you?” 

Ice cold water feels as if it was just dropped over Minutes body, sending shivers down his spine. 

“I was watching you the whole time, you know that? I've been watching you since the Mafia. Oh, Minute, you honestly did such a great job. Had you been weaseling around anybody else's castle, you would  have gotten away with it no issue. But, I'm always watching you. I always see you.” 

Minute laughs nervously, glancing around the room, “right. I see. So, are you going to kill me?” 

“Kill you?” Clown grumbles, sounding offended. “Why would I do that?” Clown places a cold gloved hand to Minute's cheek, caressing his face gently.

“You are not something I can ever let die, Minutetech.” 

“Alright.” Minute nods along, trying to keep the man appeased, “Alright, that's cool. Will you be letting me out of these anytime soon?” As he speaks, Minute weakly pulls against the restraints, as emphasis. 

Clown takes a step back and smiles with a small tilt of his head, “No.”

Minute pauses, glancing from Clowns expression to the restraints holding him up. “No? Why not?” 

“Youre better than that. You can get out of this no sweat, right?” Clown circles him until he's out of view and Minute can only hear the scrape of, presumably, a chair being pulled out. 

“I'll sit here and wait. It shouldn't take you long, right? You fight incredibly hard to keep surviving.” 

Clowns voice is muffled slightly by the distance but Minute can still make out the clear tone of astonishment in his words. As if Clown is intrigued by the fact Minute wants to live and tries so hard to. 

“Right. And if I don't try?” 

“Then you'll stay here and have to be fed by me every few hours. I don't mind that, so it's no issue for me. But I believe it'd be something your pride would not handle well.” 

Tugging his left arm, testing the hold the chain has on him, Minute takes in Clowns words with an unamused smile. 

“Seems you know a lot about me. That's not very fair, I hardly know you.” 

“Im flattered! Ask anything you want, I'll answer.” 

Minute pushes himself off the ground and grips onto the chain with both hands, holding himself up. 

Speaking through labored breaths, “how old are you?” 

“Thats a curious first question. What makes you want to know? Are you into younger guys, Minutetech? Or older ones?” 

Minute flips himself upside down till he has his ankles hooked around the chains, now making eye contact with Clown. 

“Youre awfully flirty. And you haven't answered my question.” Minute mumbles, ripping his gaze away from Clowns to focus back on his task. Working slowly, he climbs up the chain. 

“My answer depends on yours. Younger or older guys, what do you prefer?” 

“I prefer guys who don't kidnap me, in all honesty.” 

Clown beams, leaning forward in his chair, “so you do like guys! That's wonderful. I'm thirty-four.” 

Minute lets out a breathy laugh, winded from being upside down for so long. 

“Whats funny about that?” Clown asks, curious as he stares up at Minute who is nearing the ceiling now. 

“Nothing– Just, you are most certainly younger than me.” 

The jester perks up, grinning ear to ear, “really? That's fantastic! You know, I do have a bit of a reputation of being into older guys, so that's fitting.” 

“So, you are into me? Is that why you brought me here? You thought itd make me like you back?” Minute grabs the hook of the chain and plants his feet firmly against the ceiling, pulling as much as he possibly can. 

“You could've tried asking me out to dinner first-” He cuts himself off once the chain lets loose and he's sent falling to the ground.

“Oh dear!” Clown muses, standing up. 

“Are you going to get hurt? Should I help you?” 

Minute, stubbornly, ignores him in favour of thinking of a plan. He sticks an arm out and grabs onto the nearest support beam, digging his claws in while wrapping the chain around the beam. It catches onto a nail and lets him slide down the rest of the way safely. 

Clown claps excitedly, "you're so quick to think! Your intelligence makes you so lovely.” 

Hands wrap around Minutes waist and towards his wrists. A key pops into the makeshift handcuffs and lets him free, metal falling to the ground with a clang. 

Turning in the other man's arms, Minute stares down at Clown, “now what? I broke free, am I able to leave?” 

“Leave? No, absolutely not. Though you said something interesting before you started falling from my ceiling. I should've asked you out to dinner? You would've accepted?” 

Minute stares, sighs, and then raises a hand to his right temple, rubbing it. “Sure, whatever. Let's have dinner.” 

“Wonderful! Let's go!” 

Minute waits for a moment then rolls his eyes, “you need to let go of me so we can walk, Clown.” 

The jester frowns and leans forward till his forehead hits Minutes collarbone, “that's awful. I dislike not being able to feel you under my hands.” 

Minutes sighs, “oh boy. You're incredibly covetous.” 

Clown pulls back, expression annoyed. “Covetous? Are you somebody else's?" 

“Yes, myself. You want what you cannot have. Were you anybody else, I would at least attempt to kill you now.” 

Clown preens, “so I am something special to you then! An exception! Even if it is out of fear, an exception is still an exception! Fear goes a long way in a relationship, you know.” 

Lips curling in disgust, Minute pushes Clown away by his forehead, turning to the only door in the room. 

“Stop speaking so creepily. I'm hungry.”

— 

“Is it to your tastes?” Clowns wearing his mask again, a porcelain white base with a painted large smiling face with multiple rows of sharp teeth. It's more fitting. His chins resting on his hands, head tilted and watching Minute eat. 

“It's good. Who made it?” 

“Im wounded, you think I couldn't cook something like this?” Minute pauses, fork lowering back to his plate. He turns to Clown, expression blank. “You haven't left my side since I opened the door upstairs. I know you didn't make this.” 

Clown laughs, sitting straight and resting his hands in his lap. “You caught me. Ferre is actually a wonderful chef.” 

“That… is surprising.” Minute mumbles, turning back to his food.

There are a few minutes of peaceful silence that Minute relishes in gratefully.

“I like watching you eat.” 

The voidling sighs, fork lowering back to his plate. 

“Clown.” 

“Yes, Minutetech?” 

“That's an unbelievably weird thing to say. Try to at least explain why you feel that way– or, better yet, don't say it at all.” 

Clown hums, pulling a leg up onto the chair, wrapping his arms around it. 

“I enjoy watching you eat because it means you are fueling your body and will live longer.” 

Minute laughs, a genuine startled laugh. 

Clown beams, “and I like that sound!” 

Laughing into his hand, Minute shakes his head lightly, “sure. I'm glad you like it. Let's stop the compliments now, okay?” 

The jester tilts his head, resting the cheek of his mask against his own knee, "that's no fun. Branzy told me it's good to compliment people.”

“Thats a new name. Who is Branzy?” Clown hums and raises an ungloved hand to point across the room. Minute turns in his chair and looks at the painting behind himself. Its of Clown, Ferre and an older looking man with greying hair. 

“Oh, you weren't lying when you said you're into older men." 

Clown nods, “That's right! Branzy isn't exactly a lover, nor is he a friend. He is.. Branzy? He is actually the one who told me to pursue you.” 

Minute curses the man out in his own head. So this is his fault

“Where is Branzy now?” Clown shrugs, offering nothing else. 

“Usually you have more to say. Has he passed away?” 

“No. I wouldn't let Branzy die.” 

“You said the same thing to me. ‘Wouldn’t.’ As if it's something you can prevent. You know you can't control that, right? In this room alone, I can think of six different ways I could die right now.” 

Clowns eyes widen and he looks around, leg falling off his chair and to the ground before he stands up. 

“Tell me all of them now so I can remove them.” 

Minute raises an eyebrow, taking in Clowns near child-like behavior. 

“I wont tell you that. Sit down, Clown.” 

The jester does as told, surprisingly docile for somebody who is the “most deadliest” person in this world. A “Weapon of Mass Destruction.”

“Clown, you said you would answer my questions before, right?” 

“Of course. What would you like to know?” 

“Do you have any parents?” 

Clown looked up at the ceiling for a moment, seemingly thinking. 

“I mean, I must. In order to be born I must've had parents. Never met or heard of them, though.” 

“That makes sense.” Minute nods. “You seem to lack a basic understanding of how people work, or how to communicate with others.”

“Youre lucky I find you charming, Minutetech, because that sounds suspiciously like an insult.” 

“Not an insult. An observation. You must not know anything besides war, is that right?” 

Clown pauses, then nods, “I suppose so. My first memory is from when I was twelve and was training to join a war.” 

Minute frowns, “thats not normal, Clown. You should've been doing childish stuff back then. Playing games, eating candy, and making friends.” 

“I don't think those memories would be particularly helpful to my everyday life.” Clown mutters, picking at the dirt built up under his nails. 

“I'm not trying to insult you. I want to understand you.” 

“If I played games, ate candy, and had friends, would you like me back, Minutetech?” 

The voidling laughs lightly, shaking his head, “I can't say that for certain, Clown. If anything, we most likely never would have met.” 

“See? So it is better that is not the childhood I had.” 

“Even if it made you happier?” 

Clown reaches his hand out, takes Minutes into his own and clasps their fingers together, “I’m happy now.” 

Minute hums, “I think I'd be happier if you understood me better.” 

Clown squeezes Minutes hand, “then tell me how I can do that. I'm a fast learner.” 

“I dont particularly enjoy feeling like I'm stuck here. I also don't like you killing anybody and everybody you come across.” 

“I do not do that! I only do it if I'm being paid- or if they threaten me. Big difference.” 

Minute raises and eyebrow, “so if you were paid to kill me, you would?” 

Clown pauses, “I don't like that hypothetical. Who would ask me to do that? I can kill them first.” 

“And that is the issue. Do you know what I want for this world, Clown?” 

“Uh… To be honest I didn't think you particularly cared about the world. I thought you cared about the End.”

“I care about both. Even the Nether,” Minute gestures around them. “I care about everything here and want everyone to live in peace. The unnecessary deaths hurt me to see. You have personally killed a lot of people I considered to be my friends.”

“I am sorry, Minutetech.” 

“Thank you for apologizing,” Minute squeezes Clowns hand and smiles small, “but you understand that I cannot like you back, right?” 

“What if I changed? Stopped killing? Truthfully, it's not as if I need any more wealth. 

Minute hums, “I would need proof of that.” 

“I can prove it, but you have to stay here.” 

Giving up– because realistically, what can Minute even do here? He has no gear, no weapons. He could maybe hold up long enough to escape the Nether if he had everything he left behind in his base– and that was merely escaping. Winning? Any sort of physical altercation right now was out of the realm of possibilities. 

“Alright, Clown. Prove it to me.” 

The jester smiles brightly and gestures at Minutes plate, “continue eating. I'll show you around after your meal.” 

-

“Who all lives here?” Minute asks, attempting to provide some sort of conversation to stop Clown from so obviously staring at him while he ate.

“Well, there is Me, Ferre, Branzy can live here if he so wishes in the future. Then there are about a thousand soldiers.” 

“A thousand?” He asks around a mouthful of food, startled. His time here, multiple days worth of hours spent invisible behind walls, bookshelves, furniture, he had not seen a single person besides Ferre and Clown in this building.

“Yes, they live in a different location nearby. Did that startle you? You must've not seen any of them here, right?” 

Minute nods, “that's correct. I was surprised, but keeping them separate makes sense. Chances of a mole is much less likely if they can't even get near you.” 

“It's so attractive to me how smart you are, Minutetech.” 

Ignoring that, Minute finished his plate and sets his fork down carefully. “Where is the kitchen?” 

Clown tilts his head, “what for? Are you still hungry? Shall I bring you another serving?”

Minute shakes his hands in front of his chest, “no, not that. I was going to wash my plate.” 

Clown blinks, a confused noise slipping past his lips. “Wash your plate? Why-” Pausing, Clown glares and stands up, snatching Minutes plate away quickly. 

“Dont ever say those words to me again. You will do no such thing ever while you are here. I will wash your dishes.” 

Minute stares at the spot his plate used to be and lets out an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious?” 

“I would never joke about such a thing. Your hands are precious, they shouldn't get dirty.” Minute stands up and follows Clown as he walks down the long hallways. 

“I could wear washing gloves, you know?” 

“Not happening.” 

“But it feels rude.” 

“You are a guest, you will not work.” 

“A guest?” Minute laughs curtly. “Sure, whatever. So, what? You personally wash the plates of any guest that comes here?” 

Clown is silent as he turns down at the end of the corridor, the hallway opening up into a large kitchen.

“Well, no. But I do not have guests over besides you. I will be washing my mans dishes.” 

Minute raises an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest, “Your man?“ he repeats with a small laugh. 

“Well… eventually you will be, once I prove myself. Isn't that right?” 

Minute tsks, “correction; I will think about it if you prove yourself.” 

Minute leans against the counter beside the sink Clown is now hunched over, tap water running.

“Oh what? How is there water here?” Minute asks, lowering his hand towards the lip of the faucet, feeling the warm water flowing over his fingers. 

Clown gently moves his hand away, using a nearby cloth to dry it before placing Minutes hand on his lap, the cloth discarded on the counter. 

“The world is unstable. With patience and persistence, you can do pretty much anything.”  

The voidling hums, pondering the words for a moment. It's true, the world does behave strangely and this doesn't even make the “top ten strangest things Minute has seen” list. 

“Interesting.” He lets himself look at Clown. 

The younger man has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, soap bubbles reaching his wrists as he scrubs Minutes plate and fork clean. 

“You don't have as many scars as I would expect you to.” He comments softly, analyzing the exposed skin in front of him. 

Clown peeks a glance at him and nods lightly. 

“In order to scar, they'd have to land a hit on me.” 

Minute blinks. “Holy aura.” 

Clown laughs loudly, placing the plate and fork in a drying rack. Minute flips the tap off and stands up straight, turning to face the kitchen with curiosity.  

“I didn't expect such a cozy kitchen, honestly. Would've expected industrial looking professional equipment.” 

Clowns voice hits the back side of Minutes neck, causing the hairs on his arms to stand up. 

He feels Clowns chest touch his back and stiffens, staring blankly at a picture hung up across from him. 

“That isn't my style.” 

Minute steps forward, giving himself space to breathe. “I see. So, about that tour?” 

Clown steps forward and latches their arms together, leaning his head against Minutes shoulder, “right! I'll show you the basement first, then work our way up.” 

They walk like that, Clown glued to Minutes side, for nearly an hour. The jester is surprisingly thorough, taking his job as tour guide incredibly seriously. He explains to Minute how the castle was made, where the resources were gathered, who the builders were, how he funded it all. He talks and talks and talks until they reach the top floor of one of the towers. 

“This is the room you will be staying in.” 

Minute glances around and can't help but smile small. There are pictures of the End hung up, plants of chorus trees potted near the window. Most shockingly, the Dragon egg is displayed in a glass box above his bed on a shelf. 

“Howd you get that?” Minute asks slowly, pretty sure he himself was the person who had ownership of the Egg. 

“While Ferre was fetching you, I grabbed some things from your old base I thought you'd appreciate having here.” 

Minute pauses, stares at the egg for a moment longer before turning to Clown, thoughtful. 

“You brought it here purely for me? You didn't try to sell it? Trade it?” 

Clown looks momentarily offended. “Why would I do that? It's important to you.” 

Minute turns back to the Egg and nods slowly, “it is. Thank you, for giving it back to me.” 

“It was never taken from you.” Clown reassures, resting a hand on Minutes shoulder.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to Minute and he turns to stare down at Clown, “hey, where is your room? You never mentioned it the entire tour.” 

Clown blinks owlishly, tilting his head. “Ny room?” He repeats, raising a finger to point at his own chest. 

Minute nods, confused, “yeah?” 

“Oh, I do not have a room.” 

They blink at each other. 

“What? Where do you sleep?” 

Clown looks around, seemingly feeling embarrassed. “I sleep wherever.” 

“Clown.” 

“Well, I usually sleep in my office room.” 

Minute tsks and walks towards his bed. He grabs a pillow and the decorative blanket and drops them on the floor beside his bed, setting up a makeshift bed.

“Sleep here tonight.” 

“In your room?” Clowns voice is high pitched, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “Is that a good idea?” 

Minute shrugs, “why wouldn't it be? It's getting late, go get whatever you need and then meet me back here.” 

Clown turns around and darts out of the room, door shutting loudly behind him. 

Minute stares at the door for a moment before shrugging to himself. This was an optimal moment to look around alone. 

There are three doors in the room, one being the one Clown had run out of, and two to either side of him. He takes the one to his right.

Inside is a cozy bathroom with items already set up around him that he recognizes. His usual hygiene products are there, along with restocks of them in the cupboards. His toothbrush is set in his blue cup he used to rinse his mouth. It was as if Clown had picked everything up and copied it directly. 

He takes some time to brush his teeth, feeling a bit more at ease now with a clean mouth. 

He leaves the bathroom and goes to the door opposite of him. It reveals a staircase that leads up. 

Quickly glancing around, making sure Clown wasn't nearby, he decides the coast is clear and makes his way up.

He's in the attic of the tower now, within the spire. A section of the roof was carved out, replaced by a window that he can stare out of at the Nether around them. 

Ghasts fly nearby, the only real sign of life Minute can make out. 

The glass is moist around the edges, the heat of the Nether making itself known against the panes. Minute raises his index finger and presses it against the glass, startling when it burns. 

He pulls his hand back to his chest and cradles it, blowing lightly at the red spot forming. Don't touch the glass. Got it.

As he loses himself in the view again, the creaking of stairs catches his attention. 

He turns just in time to see Clown round the corner, a pillow tucked under his arm, toothbrush in his mouth. 

“I thought I'd find you here.” Is what Minute assumes the jester is saying, but the words are barely understandable around the toothbrush. 

“Ew, Clown. Go brush your teeth at the sink.” 

“Wanted to make sure you were up here and not sneaking away.” Again, Minute can only assume that is what he's hearing. 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm right here, not running off. Go brush.” He shoos the man off back down the stairs and takes a moment to finish looking around the room. 

Besides the window, there wasn't much. A small table with a large couch, a spyglass discarded amongst the pillows. 

A carpet covers the ground, the design checkered like Clowns attire. 

Nothing else. 

Humming, Minute makes his way down the steps and shuts the door behind himself right as Clown walks out from the bathroom, Pillow still tucked under his arm. 

“Take your pillow back. Your bed at your base had three, I assume it's an odd number because you use all of them.”

Minute glances at the bed and laughs, "you're observant.” He walks forward, picking the pillow up off the ground on his way. Climbing into the bed, he slides under the comforter and rests his back against the headboard, staring at Clown who stares back. 

“Hurry up and lay down. I can't get comfortable if you're watching me.” 

Clown moves immediately, shuffling over to his makeshift bed. He settles on top of the blanket and lays down, resting his head against the pillow he brought. 

He's staring up at Minute. 

The voidling lays down and turns his back to the jester, staring at the wall across from him. 

“Clown?” 

“Yes, Minutetech?” 

“Are you actually going to sleep?”

“Probably not.” 

Minute shuts his eyes, “me neither.” 

“Would you like to talk instead?"

“About what?” He responds, bringing the blanket up to his nose. Despite the glass being hot and the Nether being unbearably humid, it's strangely cold inside the castle.

“How was your childhood? We only spoke about mine, it feels unfair.” 

Minute frowns, eyes opening again. The room was dark now, Clown must've shut the lights off. How? Minute isn't entirely sure, nor does he care.

“I had a loving mother and father, who loved each other just as much.” 

“Really?” 

“No. I only remember my mother. She was a kind woman who did the best she could. I have a younger brother, I'm sure you know of him.” 

“Spoke?” 

Minute hums, nodding, “yeah. Spoke has always been a… difficult kid.” 

“Now that I know.” 

“My mother struggled with him often, I was left to raise him on my own more often than not. One day she left and we never saw her again.” 

“I'm sorry. It must have been difficult.” 

“It was. Spoke tries his best but sometimes things become too confusing for him, he loses sight of who he is, doubts himself and lacks the ability to trust those around him. Always so guarded but longing understanding and love.”

“Sounds hard.” 

“Yeah.” Minute breathes, feeling a weight lift off his chest. “It was- is.” 

“What about you?” 

Minute hums, a tone of questioning. “Hm?” 

“Do you long for understanding and love? do you doubt those around you, struggle to trust?” 

“I wouldn't say I long for those things. I do doubt, often. Trust is the hardest thing to give in this world. It's fragile, even more-so than glass. One wrong breath; too heavy, faced the wrong way– and it all comes crashing down.” 

Clown hums, “I understand that. I trust you.” 

Minute laughs, “you shouldn't.”

“What makes you say that? Do you think you are not trustworthy?” 

“I know I'm not. I betrayed my own brother, back when the Mafia was still in control.” 

Clown hums and Minute hears him roll onto his side. “Thats unfair to yourself. It was life or death, and you still helped Spoke out afterwards.” 

“I suppose.” 

“You did what you could. You offer that grace to your mother and brother but refuse to offer it to yourself. Why is that?” 

“They're had better reasons for the things they've done.” 

“I dont see it that way. You had to choose between dying and momentarily betraying your brother. If there was ever a moment to betray, it's then. Nothing matters more than your own survival.” 

“Is that why you truly kill? You say it's for the payments, but is it really to stay alive?”

Clown goes quiet momentarily, then lets out a breathy laugh. “I think your guess is right. I do not want to die. The fewer people around who can do it, the safer I feel. The payments are, of course, a strong motivator as well.

“But of course. Hey, Clown?” 

“Yes, Minutetech?” 

“I think I can sleep now.” 

Clown smiles, clear in his voice, “then sleep, Minute.” 

—

Minute walks into the main library, staring up at the endless rows of bookshelves that line the walls. His gaze lifts to the genres and settles on History, fingertips grazing along the spines of each book until he finds one that interests him. 

Plucking the book from its designated location, he tucks it under his arm and walks down the steps leading to a small sunken section where a large couch is nestled into. 

He sinks into the cushion and props the book on his knee, reading the introductory first.

He doesn't get to finish even one chapter before a loud crash startles him from his book, looking around for where the source is. 

Muffled banging echoes from somewhere vaguely above him and Minute sinks further into the couch, placing the open book over his face, blocking his vision. 

Distant shouting leaks into the library, two voices murmured by distance. Its Clown, obviously, and most likely Ferre. 

He should've left a note to say he was just going to explore. Minute groans into the pages, sliding down on the couch further till he is fully laid down.

A crash is fully audible this time, sounding like it's in the hallway directly attached to the library. 

“Where could he have possibly gone?” A distressed voice grumbles, the library doors slamming open. 

Minute slowly lowers the book and peeks over the back of the couch, making eye contact with a disgruntled looking older man. 

Ferre stares back and sighs in relief. 

“Clown! I found him!” 

The sound of heavy footsteps approaches rapidly, Clown sliding into view. Literally. He slides down the hallway and bumps directly into Ferre, sending them both crashing into the bookshelf to their left. 

Ferre shouts curse words of annoyance, shoving Clown away while he rubs his shoulder, sulking about it throbbing. 

Clown waves him off and turns back to the couch, visibly relaxing when they make eye contact. 

“Minutetech. I thought you ran away.” Clown walks forward, sitting on the couch opposite of Minutes own. 

“I wanted to explore a bit.” 

“And yet you're here, reading. I should've known.” 

Minute shrugs and picks the book, discarded to his side, back up, flipping to the page he had been interrupted on. “I enjoy learning.” 

“I know.” 

Minute glances up from the book, staring at Clown over the pages, frowning. “How would you know that? I only ever read within the end.” 

Clown nods, “Yes, I know.” 

Sighing, Minute goes back to the book, “I find it best to not question.” 

The jester copies Minutes' position, laying down on his own couch. “What book are you reading? History?” 

“Yes, history. It's about the five wonders. Did you know my brother was the one behind their sudden construction?” 

Clown raises an eyebrow, staring up at the ceiling above them with his hands resting atop his stomach. “That is something I actually did not know. How… How did that happen?” 

Minute laughs lightly, flipping the page, “nothing like this book says it did. Like you said with the water, the world here is unstable. He used that to his advantage in some unsavoury ways then used that as payment to the building team a person named Squiddo runs.” 

Clown hums, “Squiddo? I've heard of her before.” 

Minute nods along, losing focus of their conversation as a particularly intriguing passage begins. 

“Where is your brother now?” 

Minute blinks, looking up from the book to stare at Clown. “What?” 

“Spoke, where is he?” 

The voidling pauses, mouth parting then shutting. 

He thinks for a moment before frowning, turning back to the paragraph he was reading. 

“I am not sure.” 

Clown hums, turning his head to stare at the side of Minutes face. “Would you like me to find him?” 

Minute clenches his jaw forcing himself to remain calm as he flips the page.

“You don't? I don't mind, but I'm curious why not? I thought that offer would've pleased you.” 

Minute flips another page without having finished reading, eyes grazing un-seeingly over the words. “He can handle himself now. He is grown. Last time I saw him he… He made it clear that he can handle himself. So I am letting him.” 

Clown frowns, “was he cruel to you?” 

“He was. In the way most younger brothers are. I'm learning to not take it personally, especially not from him. He gets overwhelmed by his emotions and lashes out on anybody around.” Minute explains softly, flipping back to the page he had skipped.

“I see. Is there anybody you would like to see?” 

Minute pauses, pondering for a moment. Is there anybody? He goes over a list of people he knows and feels a frown settle deep in his expression. 

“No. There is not.” 

Clown sits up, resting his forearms on his knees as he leans forward.”That is a lie.”

“Im being truthful. I cannot think of anybody.”

“Wemmbu? His friend?” 

Minute startles, looking at Clown. “How do you know about them?” 

“Wemmbu has bothered me once or twice before. I also know you helped hide them, within the end.” 

The voidling sits up as well, resting his book against the cushion. “How long have you been watching me? And how did I never notice you?” 

Clown shrugs one shoulder and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “I dunno. It's hard to see me when I don't want to be seen, nothing to do with you or your skills. Would you like me to bring Wemmbu or his friend here?” 

Minute stares up at him, eyebrows pinched together. 

“No, that's alright.” 

Clown looks down at him, “if you're sure then I won't push it further. Having you to myself is better, of course.” As hes speaking, Clown steps out of the sunken couch section and walks towards a table. pulling out the chair at the front. 

“Ferre.” 

Minute startles, having forgotten there was another person around. The other man walks over, holding a pen out for Clown to take. 

“Can you bring my paper work here as well? I'll work here until Minute wants to leave.” 

Ferre nods and leaves the library without another word. 

“Is he a friend or a worker?” Minute asks carefully, picking his book back up. 

Clown twirls the pen between his fingers while he walks across towards the fiance section of the library, pulling out thick binders. “We are friends. He is very competent when it comes to fighting. His wits are acceptable as well.” 

“Wow, high praise.” Minute sarcastically remarks, a laugh clear in his voice. Clown glances back at him and smiles lightly. “I like when you are playful like that. You feel comfortable with me.” 

Minutes laughter cuts off. Was he comfortable? 

“Dont think about my words too hard.” 

“Got them.” Minute turns to look at Ferre as he walks in, stacks of paper held in his hands.  

Clown outstretches his hand, waiting until Ferre places the papers there. 

“Perfect, thank you. You can go. The perimeters need to be checked.” 

“Of course.” 

“Continue reading your book, Minute. And, please, tell me more about your brothers work as you read.” 

Minute looks between Clown and the book in his hands. “Alright.” 

–

“He was paying these people to protect the wonders while he was working within them to keep making these weird ridiculous mechanisms. I think he was with a friend at that time? At least he wasn't alone.” 

Clown hums, his way of showing he's listening while he scribbles into a ledger. 

“He made some friends out of those people he hired. Jumper being one of them. She is such a sweet young girl. I hope Spoke accepts her into his life so he doesn't feel so alone. I wish he knew the only thing holding him back was himself.

Mapicc, do you know who Mapicc is?”

Clown lowers his pen and turns to look at Minute, nodding. “Yes, I do. Both him and your brother fought me a few times.” 

Minute laughs lightly, “and they're still alive? They're slippery, aren't they? Mapicc is a kid with never-ending patience. He is such a loyal friend that I believe Spoke is taking for granted. Unintentionally, of course. But happening all the same.”

Clown turns back to his Ledger, nodding along while Minute talks. 

“You care for him very much.” 

“I do.” 

“You are one hundred percent sure you dont want me to send Ferre off right now to go find him?” 

“No, thank you.” Minute shakes his head, standing up. He walks towards the history section and slots the book back where he had taken it out.

“You're finished reading?” Clown asks while Minute walks over to him, sliding into the chair next to Clowns. 

“I am. It was a funny book.” 

“You should eat lunch soon, you've already skipped breakfast.” Clown offers gently, switching the pen into his left hand, lowering his right hand till he can reach Minutes, pulling it up onto the table. 

He plays with Minutes fingers slowly, writing becoming far messier now that he was writing with his wrong hand. 

Minute watches curiously, gaze shifting from their hands, to the ledger, to the side of Clowns masked face. 

“It must be difficult to see with the mask on.” He mumbles, intended for himself. 

Clown turns to look at him, head tilted slightly. “Was that a cheeky way of requesting I take it off?” His tone is filled with amusement which causes Minutes face to flush. 

Turning to look at anything else, he reads the spines of nearby books. “No. It was not.” 

A hand cups his jaw, turning him until he's making eye contact with the porcelain mask. “I can, you know? Take it off- if you ask.” 

Minute freezes, hairs standing up on the back of his neck. “No.” His voice cracks pathetically, and for a moment, Minute truly ponders if he should just end his own life. This is beyond embarrassing, beyond horrific, and truly just awful. 

Clown laughs- Literally laughs in his face. 

“Gosh, Minutetech. Do you realize how cute you really are? It's unbelievable. Come on, ask me– just once! Just once say “Take off the mask.” And I'll do it.” 

Minute swallows around the bubble in his throat and pulls his head back, escaping Clowns hold. “No, it's okay– You should keep it on.” 

There's a loud knock to their left, causing them both to whip their heads towards the large window.

Ferre is gripping onto the large railing with one hand, his other arm raised above his head in the gesture of a thumbs down. “Boo!” Is heard, very muffled, from behind the glass. 

Clown glares and stands up, stomping towards the window. He shoves it open, and starts hurling insults at his friend. 

Minute uses the commotion as an opportunity to slip out the room undetected. 

“Clown, your prince charming has run off again. Shall I search the entire castle this time.. or?” 

Minute can just barely hear the sound of Clown slapping Ferre against the chest, and even more distantly, the sound of the man shouting as he falls. 

“Minutetech! Wait for me, dear!” 

Minute sighs and pauses his strides, nearly making it to a staircase leading up to one of the towers. 

Clown joyfully skips down the hallway towards him, linking their arms together once they're close enough. 

“Let's get you some lunch.” 

—

“Minute,” He glances up from his plate, looking at Clown who is sat across from him. “Yes?” 

“What's something you miss doing?” 

Minutes eyebrows pinch together and he looks back down at his food. “I've only been here for, like, a day and a half. I don't miss anything yet.” 

“If you had to guess, then. What do you think you'd miss most if you were here for a year.”

Minute startles, looking up, “A year?” He exasperates. “Thats surely just a hypothetical exaggeration, right?” 

“Yeah, of course. You'll be here much longer than a year.” Clown innocently answers, head tilting to the side. The jester hat on his head tilts with him, bells jingling. 

Minute can only stare. Silence surrounded them for an awkward three minutes. “Forever. Right. Of course, yeah. I should've expected that, honestly. I think I'll miss the sun the most, then. If we will be staying in the Nether forever.” 

“Really? The sun? You didn't have the sun in the End either.” 

“Thats right. I missed it while I was there as well.” 

“Anything else?” 

Minute pushes his food around his plate, thinking. “Hm. I cant think of anything in particular- Rain! Oh my god. Yes, rain. I miss rain so very much. I haven't experienced any rain in, I think, two years.”

Clown snickers and leans back in his chair. “Youre incredibly easy to please, you know that? Tomorrow, I'll take you to the overworld and we can play in some rain puddles.” 

“Really? The overworld?” 

Clown nods, “yes. I trust you.” 

Minute frowns, “you keep saying that but what have I done to earn such a thing?” 

Clown hums, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, you're still here aren't you? I was fully unconscious and Ferre, as far as you were concerned, wasn't here. Yet, you stayed and read a book.” Minutes face flushes, but Clown continues despite that.

“You could've been safe in the end and completely trapped it so I'd never be able to catch you. Again, you didn't do that though. For whatever reason it may be, I think you like it here. You like it with me. Is my theory true?” 

Minute feels sick to his stomach. Why didn't he escape? Why did he let himself get caught in the first place? Was Clown right? Does he like it here?

Clown pulls his mask off, setting it on the table. He's smiling, small but bright. “Dont think too hard about it, it's just my observation. You never answered me “ 

“huh?” 

“Would you like to go play in some puddles with me?” 

Laughing breathlessly, Minute can only nod. Because yes, he would like that. 

–

Minute watches Clown wash his dishes while he sits atop the counter nearby, swinging his legs back and forth. “You didn't eat again this meal. Why is that?” 

The question slips out before he can even finish thinking it. Clown pauses, the pot he was holding begins to overfill with water, soaking his hands and wrists. 

“Sorry, was that invasive?” 

“No, I just didn't think you'd notice.”

“Is it personal?” 

Clown hums, pouring the water out of the pot. He sets it down and begins scrubbing the inside with a soapy sponge. “I suppose so. I do not like eating in front of people.” 

“Anybody?” Minute asks, curiosity always bring the death of him. 

Clown simply shakes his head, rinsing the suds off the pot before placing it in the drying rack. “Anybody.” He confirms. 

“May I ask why?” 

“It's vulnerable.” 

A laugh rips out of Minute so hard his throat hurts and he covers his mouth, eyes wide in horror at himself. Who the hell laughs at the worlds most deadliest mans trauma? 

“You're laughing at me opening up. I'm hurt.” 

Minute laughs harder, ducking his head low enough his hair fans out to curtain him from view. “Sorry- im not trying to make fun of you, seriously. That was just not the answer I expected.” 

“What'd you think it was, then?” If Minute was paying attention, he would have noticed Clown was pouting, lips slightly pursed and cheeks flushed. 

“I don't know- Something dumb? Like you don't eat at all and live off pure blood lust?”

“What am I to you? A fucking vampire?” 

Minute giggles harder, losing any composure he may have been gaining back. 

Clown huffs and scoops up a pile of bubbles, flinging them towards Minute.

They don't make the distance, falling to the ground pitifully mere inches away from Clown. 

Minute laughs so hard his sides hurt.

Clown watches him quietly, smiling enough to make his eyes crescent. 

“You're really beautiful.” 

Minutes laughter fades out slowly, devolving into awkward, confused chuckles. “Huh?” He ends it, pathetically.

Clown smiles and dries his hands on a towel while he walks closer. He slots himself comfortably between Minutes legs, resting his hands on the counter beside each of Minutes thighs, caging him in. 

Their faces are so close their noses would touch if Minute breathed in too deep. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

Minute shuts his eyes. It's the only thing he can do to get away from the extremely passionate look Clown was giving him. 

Clown, however, takes it as if he was waiting for something. 

The jester leans forward and presses a short kiss to his cheek. He lingers there for a moment, breath fanning across Minutes skin. “I'll kiss you properly when you ask me to.” He whispers before stepping back, heading towards the door to leave the kitchen. 

Minute hiccups, raising a hand to cover his mouth quickly. His heart is beating so fast he could genuinely suffer from a heart attack at this rate. Another hiccup forces its way out of him and he grimaces. Humiliating. Reduced to hiccups from a mere kiss on the cheek. What is he? Twelve?

– 

“Am I sleeping with you again tonight, Minute?” 

Minute trips, falling forward on the steps. He yelps in pain as his shin makes contact against the step in front of him. 

Clown gasps and reaches forward, hands wrapping around his waist, holding him up just enough so he doesn't bang his other shin. Minute hangs there pathetically. He should just die, seriously.

“Clown.”

“Yes?” 

“Can you erase this entire day from your memory?” 

Clown laughs and pulls him up more till he's back on his feet. His right hand squeezes Minutes hip briefly before pulling away. “Sorry, not possible. This is the best day of my life.” 

Minute nods, face pale. “Right. Of course.”

Minute resumes going up the stairs, focused on the steps now. Left up, right up. No tripping again. 

They enter his room and Clown instantly makes himself comfortable on the floor. 

Minute stares down at him, frowning. Surely that isn't good for his back.

Before he can suggest something stupid, Minute rushes to the bathroom and shoves his toothbrush in his mouth. 

He was about ten seconds away from suggesting they share a bed. Is he crazy? Is he experiencing Stockholm syndrome right now? Is that what this is? Because who in their right mind would share a bed with their kidnapper. 

Minute laughs around the toothpaste in his mouth and sinks to the ground, crouched down with his head hanging low. 

He's really pathetic. 

“Minute? You've been brushing your teeth for, like, five minutes now. You know over brushing your teeth is just as bad as not brushing, right? Over brushing causes your gums to recede, I quite like your gums the way they are.” 

Minute groans pitifully and stands up, spitting toothpaste into the sink, rinsing his mouth out soon after. 

He opens the bathroom door and forces a smile, “ready?” 

Clown raises an eyebrow, laughing lightly as Minute slips by him and crawls into bed, burying himself under the comforter. 

“Can you breathe under there, Minute?” Clown asks, pulling the covers back just enough for fresh air to fill Minutes' makeshift cocoon. 

He can't respond, too busy shoving his head into the mattress. 

Clown scratches his fingers lightly through Minutes hair before pulling away, laying down in his bed.

Minute, despite himself, pulls the covers off and sits up, staring down at Clown who is curled up to fit under the blanket. 

Curse him. Curse the way his legs are hanging off the makeshift bed. Curse the way he looks oh-so cold. Curse the way hes sleeping without the mask tonight. 

“Clown.” He croaks. The jester glances up at him. “Yeah?” 

“Get up here.” 

Clowns eyes widen a fraction of an inch and he sits up slowly. “Me?” He points at himself then turns his finger towards the bed, “up there?” 

“Hurry before I change my mind.” Minute grumbles, laying back down and rolling over to face the wall. 

He hears quick shuffling then feels the bed dip, Clowns body settling in beside him. He feels Clowns body heat radiating off him and across Minutes back, cringing at the way it causes goosebumps to explode over his body. 

–

“I think I'm so excited I might throw up.” 

Clown mutters after an hour of silence between them. 

Minute opens his eyes and laughs softly. “What are you? A dog?” 

“I feel like a dog that was just given unlimited access to its favourite treat and gorged itself to sickness.”

Minute snickers, feeling himself relax a bit. “If you're going to hurl, please do it outside of the bed.” 

“I'll try my best.” 

The silence wraps around them once more, save for Clowns shaky breathing. 

Minute listens, counting the time between each inhale and exhale. It's an abnormally long time and hes curious if its a human thing, or a Clown thing. 

“Can you tell me a bit about your species?” Clown asks suddenly, ripping Minute out of his thoughts.

“My species? Like, voidlings?” 

“Mhm. If you don't mind. I like learning new things.” 

Minute rolls over onto his back, wings hurting a bit from being stuck folded under his clothes. 

“Well, theres the overall class “Voidling.” Then under it are branches of ender dragon descendants, endermen, endermites, shulkers, and a few other ones that have gone extinct by now.”

Clown hums as a way of showing he's listening, staring at the side of Minutes face while he speaks. 

“Spoke and I are both ender dragon descendants while Wemmbu is part endermite.” 

“Do you have any defining characteristics from that? Spoke doesn't have any wings but I saw he has a thin tail- do you as well?” 

Minute nods, “I do. I keep it hidden though.” 

“Why?” 

Minute purses his lips, “a couple hundred years ago, we were hunted and our tails were cut off, used in some old potion?”

“Seriously? I'm so sorry.” 

Minute laughs, turning his head till his cheek hits the pillow, their eyes meeting. “Dont apologize for things you didn’t do. Those days are over, its not something that would happen nowadays but it's a fear I can't quite get over.”

“Are they similar to the Ender Dragons?” 

Minute hums, “A bit? Mine are thinner, more sharp.” 

“Sounds beautiful.” 

“You’re teasing.” Minute grumbles, turning to look back up at the ceiling. 

“I’m not. Every part of you is beautiful to me. Including the parts I haven't yet seen.”

“Where'd you learn to speak like that?” Minute groans, raising his hands to cover his face, feeling his cheeks heating up. 

“Nowhere. It comes naturally around you.” 

“Dear God.” 

Clown laughs, wrapping his fingers around Minutes right wrist, pulling his hand down gently. 

Minute turns to look at him, frowning with rosy cheeks. 

“Dont hide your face from me. I love seeing your expressions.” Clown whispers in the space between them, smiling small. 

Minute grabs the extra pillow and throws it overtop Clowns face, quickly rolling over till his back is facing the Jester. 

“Go to bed, Clown.” 

“Sir yes Sir.” 

With a smile on his lips, Minute closes his eyes, letting himself fall asleep. 

–

Waking up was a humbling experience. He expected this would happen, however he expected it'd be Clown instigating, not himself.

He has his arms wrapped tightly around Clowns shoulders, forcing the man to be cuddled against his chest. Their legs are twisted together like a pretzel and Minute finds that his hand was scratching through Clowns hair, near the base of his neck. 

Clowns awake, it's clear by his shaky breathing, but he seems completely content to be suffocating against Minutes chest.

“Youre awake.” The jester mumbles quietly, voice muffled. 

Minute stiffens, not sure if it'd be more awkward to let go instantly or stay in this position. 

“Yeah.” He mumbles. 

Clown sighs sadly and pulls himself back, wiggling out of Minutes hold. 

“That was the best sleep of my life. I'll try not to mention it much today to spare you shame, but please do know that it was literally the best sleep I've ever gotten.” 

“Wow, that's great. I'm really happy for you, man.” 

Cackling, Clown slides his mask on and straightens his suit. 

“Get ready, it'll rain at one today.” 

“Hello? How do you know that?” Minute questions as he slides out of bed, grabbing his spare suit from the dresser nearby. 

Clown watches him. 

“Im not changing in front of you.” 

Sighing, the jester walks out of the room and half shuts the door. “Ferre knows the weather patterns in the overworld. He has about eighty percent accuracy.” 

Minute switches suits and runs his hands through his hair. He's going to need a shower after today. 

“Who would've thought Ferre would be a weather guy?” He mumbles, slipping out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Clown following close behind. 

“Right? When you look at him you don't picture that kind of interest, but he's actually incredibly passionate about it.”

Minute hums, surprised, and rounds the corner, heading towards the kitchen. 

Clown follows close behind. 

Minute grabs an apple from the fruit basket and hands it to Clown, grabbing another one for himself. 

They walk to the dining room and sit down close to each other. Minute takes a bite of the apple absent-mindedly, staring out the window directly in front of him. 

He hears a crunch from beside him and freezes, forcing himself to keep looking forward. 

There's the sound of quiet chewing, and then another crunch. Clown is eating in front of him. 

Biting back a smile, Minute continues eating his own apple while staring at the red scenery. 

-

“All done?” Clown asks, gesturing at the apple core held by the stem in Minutes hand. 

“Mhm.” Clown reaches forward and takes the core out of Minutes hands and stands up, throwing them both into the garbage can in the kitchen. 

Running water echoes into the dining room and Minute stands up. stretching his hands above his head.

A hand wraps around his waist, settling just below his hip. He feels as Clowns thumb slides through the belt loop of his pants, resting there. 

A chin rests on his shoulder and Minute cant help but chuckle. Clown must be on his tip-toes right now. 

He raises his own hand and places it over Clowns, bullying his fingers through the gaps of Clowns. Clown makes a noise of surprise, turning his head to look at Minute. 

“That was awfully bold of you.” 

“I'm preparing for this ‘date' you have planned.” 

Clown hums and falls onto his heels, stepping so they're side by side. “Are you excited?” 

“I am.” Minute confirms, turning to look down at the shorter man. 

Clown smiles up at him and walks forward, dragging Minute with him. 

“It’s going to be a long walk, is that alright?” Clown asks as they step out into the walkway, the dead garden surrounding them looks beautiful in its own way. 

“Thats fine. But, if you'd prefer,” Minute unfurls his wings for the first time since coming here, feeling instant relief as they pop and crack from lack of use. 

Clown startles, turning to watch. His thumb falls from Minutes belt loop and their arms stretch between them, still connected. 

“Since when have you had those?” Clown asks, voice filled with awe as Minute flexes his wings, letting them stretch out their full wingspan. 

“Since birth, I believe.” 

Clown reaches his unoccupied hand out, tracing along the edge of a bone, curious. “They look like the Ender Dragons, it's so fascinating. How the hell have you been hiding these?” 

Minute turns around, feeling Clowns arm touch his stomach, tugging the man closer till they're near chest to back.

Clown looks down and hums, touching the two small slots in Minutes suit. “So they tuck under here? They must have to be folded up a lot, doesn't it hurt?” 

Minute shrugs, turning back around. Clown doesnt take a step back, neither does Minute.

“Not necessarily. Ache, maybe? But not hurt.” 

Clown hums and stares at his wings for a moment longer before eventually looking down and meeting Minutes eyes. 

“How will this work, then? Will you carry me bridal style?” The jester teases, reaching a hand up to cup Minutes cheek, thumb stroking absent-mindedly. 

“I could, or you could just hug me?” 

Clown raises an eyebrow, “hug you?”

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I don't mind.” Clown preens and lets go of Minutes head, throwing his arms around his neck instead. 

Minute laughs and wraps his own arms around Clowns Waist, holding him in place. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

“Ready!” Clown excitedly responds. 

Minute flaps his wings twice before they take off from the ground. 

Clown gasps and grips onto Minute tighter, staring out at his castle behind Minute, growing further and further away. 

“Whats the nearest Nether roof access point?” 

Clown shakes his head, resting his head on Minutes shoulder. “No Nether roof. Not safe.” 

“You sure?” Minute asks as he leans forward, flying straight forward now.

Clown yelps, feeling as if gravity is trying to pull him down. He wraps a leg around Minutes, locking them together for more support. 

Minute laughs at him, rubbing his back with one hand, holding tightly with the other. 

“Yeah. No Nether roof.”

“What are the coords then? You can't exactly lead the way.” 

–

It's three hours of flying later before Minute spots the Nether portal nestled behind vines in the warped forest.

He lands carefully, loosening his hold on Clown once theyre on ground. 

Clown untangles their legs and lets go, falling to the ground the small distance he was lifted up. 

He looks around and nods, “yeah, this is it.” 

Clown walks towards the portal and steps up onto the ledge, holding a hand out in the space between them. 

“Shall we?” 

Minute laughs breathlessly, walking forward and connecting their hands, stepping up. 

Clown smiles as the world swirls around them. 

It's a few seconds before a bright light assaults their eyes and the nausea building up begins to subside. 

Minute steps out first, letting out a shocked shout when Ferre appears beside him. 

Clown laughs from above, doubling over as he points a gloved finger at Ferre. “You are so ugly that you scared him!” 

Minute gapes and shakes his head, “no! Not that! Clown, thats rude! He just startled me.”  

Clown laughs harder and steps down, reaching forward to poke at the skull over Ferres head. “I told you the skull was creepy, dude.”

“Oh piss off.” Ferre grumbles, slapping Clowns hand away. “Im here to escort you two on your little date and here you are being a bitch to me. Shall I head home instead?” 

Clown frowns, “I can handle anything that may happen, we both know that, you're here so I don't have to.” 

Sensing another petty argument brewing, Minute steps between them and turns Ferre around, pushing him forward by his shoulders. 

“Alright, let's all go enjoy this very fun, super not awkward, day!”

Clown reaches forward and plucks Minutes hands from Ferres shoulders, locking them in his own hand. 

“Seriously? You are a deeply jealous man.” 

Clown grumbles a response, too quiet for Minute to hear, and shoots daggers at Ferres back. 

They walk for about ten minutes until a small forest clearing comes into view. It's quiet, an open patch of grass surrounded by tall oak trees. 

Ferre drops the picnic basket he had been carrying and opens it up, pulling out a makeshift cover. 

Attaching half of it to a tree and the other half to some fencing, a cover from the incoming rain was created. 

“Go under there whenever you want. It'll rain in about thirty minutes, eat your lunch, have a good time, yada yada, ill be in the trees if you need me.” 

“In the-” Minute cuts himself off, watching Ferre climb up into a nearby tree, disappearing behind the leaves. 

“In the trees. Right. Thirty minutes, he said?” 

Clown nods, plopping down on the grass, falling back till he's staring up at the sky.

“No armor?” Minute asks carefully, sitting down criss-cross across from him. Clown hums and spreads his arms out, soaking up the sun. 

“No need. Ferre is here.” 

“You really trust him.” It's not a question, just a fact. Clown hums and adjusts his mask. 

“Not enough to remove the mask though?” It's an innocent enough question, just something he had noticed, but it makes Clown falter, breath hitching. 

“Minute,” He starts, laying his arms atop his stomach. “Nobody has seen my face.” 

“I have?” Minute responds, dumbly. 

Clown doesn't say anything further, just laughs lightly. 

Reality soon dawns on Minute and his eyebrows pinch together. “Hold on- No seriously, do you mean that? Only I have? Nobody else? What about Branzy?” 

Clown shrugs one shoulder, watching as the sunny sky begins to be covered by small clouds. “Not even Branzy.” 

Minute lets out a breath of surprise, turning to look down at the grass beneath his legs. “Oh.” 

Clown hums a tune to a song, staring up at the clouds growing darker by the Minute. 

“We have about ten minutes till rain.” Minute says, glancing up. 

“Indeed. Are you excited?” 

“Yeah,” Minute stares at Clown, “I am.” 

The rain starts gradually. A light shower misting over them. As Minute pushes himself to his feet, not wanting his pants to be soaked with muddy water, The rain picks up to a downpour. 

Clown stays laid in the grass, water soaking into his suit. 

Minute stares down at him, stretching a hand out. 

Clown opens one eye and smiles, grabbing a Minutes hand. The voidling pulls him to his feet, keeping their hands entwined. 

“Is it what you were hoping for?” 

Minute glances down at Clown, smiling. “Yes, this is perfect. I haven't felt rain in a long time.” 

“You aren't cold?” Clown checks, raising his hand to Minute's neck, squeezing slightly. 

Minute shakes his head, “not at all. Warm, even.” 

He takes a few steps back, Clowns hands hanging awkwardly in the space he created between them. 

Before the man can question, Minute jumps in place, water splashing all around him, some hitting Clowns pants. 

The jester laughs, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “You're so on, Minutetech.” 

They chase each other throughout the flooding fields, mud stains covering the whites and reds of their clothing. Grass covers their boots, knees, and elbows. 

Minute shouts in shock as he falls backwards, landing ass-first in a deeper puddle than he expected. 

Clown bursts out into giggles from behind him, reaching down till he has his arms hooked under Minutes, pulling him up. 

“That looks so uncomfortable.” Clown comments lightly, patting away the mud clumps and grass that had stuck to Minutes pants. 

“It is!” He whines back, flicking his tail, sending drops of water flying around them. 

Clown pats Minutes wings next, pulling off stubborn pieces of dirt. “If this wasn't something I knew you enjoyed, I'd feel upset seeing you dirtied like this.” 

Minute scoffs out a laugh, turning till they can meet each other's gaze. “And why shouldn't I be able to get a bit dirty?” 

Clown blinks once, then twice, before he giggles, turning his head to look up at the sky. “Oh, Minutetech! Do you even know how suggestive that sounds? I'm trying to be a polite patient man,” Clown reaches out, hands landing on Minutes waist. He pulls Minute closer, pressing his face into the crook of Minutes neck. 

“But you make it so incredibly difficult.” 

Minute stumbles, placing his hands on Clowns shoulders for support. “That was not the intention of my words-” He tries to reason, stumbling over his words.

Clowns breath fans across his neck, chilling against the water soaked into his skin. “I know.” He breathes out. “I know it wasn't. I wish it was.” 

Minute pauses, frowning. “I'm … I'm sorry it isn't."

Clown pulls back, shaking his head, “No! Do not apologize. I'm whining to myself, ignore me.” 

Minute sighs and brushes the hair visible around Clowns mask back, “Im still sorry.” 

“I still have time to prove myself, don't I?” Clown asks softly. Minute nods, “you do. Well, I suppose you have forever. Technically speaking. Seeing as how that's how long you're keeping me here.” 

Clown laughs lightly, “yeah. Forever.”

–

They spend a few months quietly living in the Nether castle together.

About four months in, Clown agrees to Minute going out unsupervised, and Minute always comes back himself. 

It feels less like a kidnapping now, and more like they're just two roommates. One with extreme codependency.

“Minute! How many days has it been?” Clown asks, already beaming with pride as he stands in Minutes doorway. Minute had convinced him about a month ago to sleep in his own room- Or rather, to have his own room in the first place. It's directly below Minutes, but its progress nonetheless. 

“Its been one hundred and eighty two days since you've killed somebody.” 

Clown claps for himself, nodding rapidly, “yes! And how many more days until you consider dating me?” 

“Five,” Minute starts, biting back a laugh as Clown cheers, “hundred.” He continues.

Clowns bubble bursts and his hands fall back down to his sides. “Oh. Hey, twenty-five percent of the way there! That's pretty good!” 

Minute chuckles, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“What's Ferre up to today? Do you have any plans with him?” 

Clown tilts his head, “no? My plan is to hangout with you?” 

Smile full of Pity, Minute shakes his head lightly. “Not today, Darling. Did you forget? I'm going to see Wemmbu.” 

Clown groans, sinking to the ground in a pitiful lump of misery. He groans into the floorboards, clawing at them pathetically. Minute watches with a smile burning at his lips. 

“I warned you two weeks ago.” He offers, gently. 

Clown groans louder. “I forgot! Why can't Wemmbu visit you here?” 

Minute gives him a deadpan look, eyebrow raised slightly. “Seriously?” 

Clown frowns, “right… I did make that whole “anybody who you want to visit must live here indefinitely” rule, didn't I?” 

“You did. That makes this what?” 

“The consequences of my own actions.” The jester grumbles, splayed out on the ground.

“Correct! Hey, at least you have me for another hour before I gotta go out.” 

Clown picks himself up from the ground and walks towards the bed, throwing himself directly at Minute, sending them both flying back against the pillows. 

Clown lays overtop Minute like some sort of DIY weighted blanket, covering his body entirely. 

Minute couldn't exactly pinpoint when the physical touch went from about a ten to whatever this is, but he definitely did have some part in it. More often than not, he found himself pressed against Clowns side, holding Clowns hand, or resting his head on Clowns lap while he read a book. It was nice. 

“What's going on in the overworld, I'm out of the loop now that you've got me being a peaceful pacifist.” Clown mumbles against his shoulder, chin digging into Minutes skin. 

He hums, stroking Clowns back with the tips of his claws.  “Nothing much. Parrot is king now, or so I've heard.” 

“Thats your clarification of ‘nothing much?’” 

Minute snickers, "Sorry, yeah, you're right. There'll probably be some type of war soon. I just hope Spoke and Wemmbu stay out of it.” 

Clown hums, tracing his finger against Minutes chest, mapping out random shapes.

“How is spoke?” 

“I believe hes being hunted by B.A.T? I heard that somewhere- oh and something called Null? Honestly, I'm not too sure. That kid is always in some bullshit.” 

“You haven't checked in on him?” Clown asks, cautious of stepping on any sore toes. 

“He hasn't reached out.” Is Minutes vague response, leaving no room for further questions. 

“Right. And how is that other guy, the crazy one who stalked Parrot.” 

Minute raises an eyebrow, “stalked Parrot?” 

“The guy with the purple headband.” 

“Wifies? Oh. He died.” Clown pulled back, looking down at Minute with a confused expression. “Died? When? Last I saw him, he was making plans to put Parrot in some sort of prison. He asked me for a few pointers on it, security measures I used in some of my old ones– did you know I made prisons? Should I not have brought this up.” 

Minute blinks a few times, stuck in his thoughts, tuning out Clowns rambles. 

“Wifies put Parrot in a prison?” 

Clown tilted his head, “Yeah? It was actually remarkably similar to what I'm doing to you, except Wifies was a bit more… obsessive, and all of his reasons were weird selfish mambo-jumbo.” 

“More obsessive than you?” 

Clown shrugs one shoulder, lowering himself back onto Minutes chest. “Yeah. Killed Parrots friends and everything in the name of keeping Parrot safe or something. Not something I'd do to you, by the way– Killing your friends I mean. You know, cause I am a peaceful Clown now and all.” 

Ignoring Clowns rambles again, Minute stares up at the ceiling above, “I appreciate that. I didn't know that about Wifies, though. Parrot must be severely fucked up after experiencing something like that, how the hell is he ruling a kingdom.” 

Clown snorts, “probably. Good thing Wifies is dead then. Do you know how he died?” 

Minute shifts, raising his leg till his knee is bent, foot pressed against the mattress. Clown slides onto the spot between his legs, moving to get comfortable. 

“Not sure. Heard he exploded. Horrific way to go.” 

Clown hums, presses his lips lazily against Minutes neck, a featherlight kiss. He speaks, words muffled against Minutes skin, “Poetic, I'd say. Their story ended the way it began, I think that's nice. I can sympathize with Wifies, to an extent.” 

Minute chuckles, “im sure you both had the same thoughts, his approach was just a tiny bit more aggressive.” 

“I wouldn't say they were the same. I think Wifies was rather selfish, actually. He wanted Parrot alive because he couldn't stand to lose Parrot. It's not that he didn't want Parrot to get hurt– Wifies hurt him more than anybody else. I would never do that to you. I would rather die than have you feel even the slightest hint of a negative emotion.” 

Minute pauses, hands stilling on Clowns back. 

“Thats intense, Clown.” He murmurs, resuming his movements. 

Clown sighs, “I know. But it is true, so I thought it'd be important to say. Don't compare me to him, okay? I wouldn't kill Wemmbu, or Spoke, or anybody you even slightly like, under the lie of it being for your sake.” 

Minute tilts his head, leaning it against Clowns, "thanks? I think? Sorry, that's a hard thing to respond to.” 

Clown laughs, breath fanning the hair at the base of Minutes neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “No need to respond at all, I’m just talking generally. Now, dont psychoanalyze any other people, only think about me.”

Minute huffs out a laugh, bumping their heads together lightly. “Youre so weird.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m weird but you Like-Like me.”

“I Like-Like you? What are we, twelve?” Clown sighs, breath fanning down under Minutes shirt, tickling his skin. “I have a lot of days left till I earn anything beyond a sixth grade level crush from you– Assuming you can wait that long.”

“Oh har-har.” 

“Im sleepy.” Clown segways, nuzzling his head against Minutes, going limp in his hold. 

Minute reaches across Clown, pulling the blanket up and over their bodies. “You can have a quick nap, I'll wake you in thirty?” 

“Yes, please.” Clown murmurs, voice slurred as sleep drags him under. 

– 681 – 

“Clown, dear?” 

Clown glances up from his paperwork, turning in his chair towards Minutes desk on the opposite side of the office. The voidling is leaning back in his seat, glasses slid down to the tip of his nose, eyes visible above the thin frame. 

Clowns stomach tightens and he stands up, walking towards Minute slowly. He reaches for the mans hand, raising it to his mouth, pressing a short kiss to Minutes knuckles. “Yes?” He murmurs against the skin, keeping Minutes hand there. 

The man smiles and reaches his other hand out, petting Clowns hair down, "It's been six hundred and eighty-one days. Did you know that?” 

Clown grins, taking a few steps closer until he can kneel in front of Minute, holding both his hands, "I'm aware.” He responds softly, resting his cheek against Minutes knee, staring up at him. 

“Tomorrow is the day I'll decide if we can be together or not.” Minute whispers, caressing Clowns face gently. 

“You say that as if you haven't already decided.” Clown laughs. “Need I remind you of last night, the way you laid beneath me begging for more?”

Minute pinches his hand, tsking. “Dont be vulgar.” 

“I didn't say anything! We simply spent a lovely night together-” The rest of Clowns words come out muffled, Minutes hands pressing overtop his lips.

“That's enough talking. Are you coming with me to visit Wemmbu today?” 

Clown licks a strip up the palm of Minutes hand, laughing when his lover pulls a disgusted face, yanking his hands back quickly.

“Yeah, I'm going with you. Wemmbu asked for some training last week, I've been making a list for him.” 

Minute raises an eyebrow, watching as Clown stands back up, walking towards his desk. 

“Training? Like… for fighting?”

“Mhm.” Clown grabs a black cover notebook, turning back to Minute with a smile. “He's gotten fairly good at using the mace, but his general combat is still severely lacking.” 

“Dont let him hear you say that.” 

“It's actually his exact words!”

Minutes eyes widened, “really? He said that?” 

“Amongst some glazing of my sword skills, he mixed in some self deprecation and self pity to bait me into helping him.” 

Smiling, Clown pulls Minute to his feet, wrapping him in a tight hug, nuzzling his nose into the crook of the voidlings neck. 

“I really hope you decide to keep loving me tomorrow.” 

Minute hums, “love? That's quite the assumption. I didn't realize we were at the “i love you” stage.” 

“I was literally inside of you last night.”

“Clown!” Minute hisses, wacking Clown on the back of the head.

Laughing loudly into Minutes shoulder, he backtracks, “Sorry, Sorry. What I meant to say was, I've been wanting to say it to you since the first day you arrived here.” 

“Thats very deliberate word choice. I didn't exactly arrive here, remember?” 

Clown groans, pulling back to pout up at Minute. “Are you always going to bring that up? You actually seem to be enjoying life as a kidnapped person, yet you complain about it any chance you get.”

Minute smiles, stroking his hands up and down Clowns arms. “I'm only teasing, Darling. Shall we head out now? Wemmbu is meeting us outside in a few minutes.” 

Clown hums, still pouting as Minute laces their fingers together, dragging him down the endless staircases and hallways. 

Wemmbus sat on a railing outside, swinging hisnlegs back and forth- ever impatient. 

He hears their footsteps and looks up grinning. “Minute!” He slides off the railing and rushes forward, jumping up and into a surprised Minutes arms. 

Clown frowns as he watches, moving out of their way. 

Wemmbus legs are wrapped around Minutes waist, koala-like, and his long purple hair is veiling Minute entirely. 

If he wasn't so jealous, Clown would be giggling at the visual. 

Minute seats away Wemmbusbhair, laughing loudly. 

“Dude, you're too big to be doing all this.” 

“Oh shut up. You caught me, didn't you?” 

Minute smiles, bending down to place Wemmbu back on the ground. 

The younger man beams up at Minute, adoration clear in his eyes. 

“I've missed you. Where were you last week?” 

Minute frowns, apologetic, and brushes Wemmbus hair back with his fingers. “There was an issue at the end. I sorted it out. Where are all of your elastics?” 

Wemmbu pulls one out from his pocket, holding it up to Minute. “I brushed my hair so you could braid it for me.” 

“Didn't I teach you how to do that?” 

Wemmbu grins, “you did! but, you are just so much better at it.” 

Minute rolls his eyes, flicking Wemmbu in the forehead. 

“Youre such a brat sometimes. Let's go inside. Darling?” Minute holds a hand out, waiting patiently for Clown to hold it. 

Clown turns around from where he had been staring, having had a silent conversation with Ferre who had landed nearby. He takes Minutes hand and raises it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. 

Wemmbu fakes a gag, walking ahead of them and into the castle. 

“Its nice seeing you with him.” Clown murmurs as they walk hand in hand after Wemmbu. 

The voidling snorts. “As if. I could feel the jealousy oozing off of you. Should I braid your hair once he leaves?” 

“Yes please.” 

Minute laughs lightly, pressing a kiss to the painted on lips of the porcelain mask. 

“I hate this stupid thing.” Clown grumbles, watching with a pout as Minute lets go of his hand and walks into the library, sliding into the spot on the couch in front of where Wemmbus sat on the floor, legs crossed and waiting patiently. 

“Clownpierce.” He turned to look at the younger man, raising an eyebrow, “yes?” 

“Have you finished the list you said you'd make me?” Clown pulls the paper out of his back pocket, stepping down into the conversation pit. He sits in front of Wemmbu and stretches his arm out, handing him the list. 

“Sweet!” Wemmbu grabs it, smoothing it out against the floor. He leans forward too far, hair falling out of Minutes hands. 

The older man narrows his eyes, pulling Wemmbu back by the hair he still had in his hand. 

The purple haired boy groans loudly, reaching up to press down on his scalp, soothing the ache. 

“Minute! That was fucking painful!” 

“Dont curse.” Minute reprimands, pinching Wemmbus cheek. 

The younger man frowns at the ground, pressing his lips together. “Whatever.” 

–

the day ends with Wemmbu sleeping in a guest room, exhausted after a long training session with Clown. 

Minute brushes his teeth, leaning back into Clowns arms who supports all of his weight, toothbrush in his own mouth. 

“Is he improving at all?” Minute asks around a mouthful of bubbly toothpaste. Clown nods, focusing on his back molars. 

When Clown leans forward to spit, Minute goes with him, trusting Clowns arm around his waist to keep him from toppling over.

“Im glad. I feel better knowing he isn't out there defenseless.” Clown lowered his hand to Minute's hip, sliding beneath the band of his sweatpants, pressing lightly against bare skin.

“Even if he got himself into trouble, I have people watching him at all times. He's never alone.” 

Minute smiles and turns hisnhead, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Clowns mouth. “I appreciate you. So very much.” 

Clown preens, turning his head so they properly kiss. 

Minutes hums softly into the kiss, raising his hand to Clowns cheek, eyes slipping shut. 

“Its twelve. I love you.” 

Clown turns Minute in his hold, pushing him out of the bathroom and towards the bed. 

“I love you too.” He whispers, lowering Minute down onto the mattress.

“Sleep now, I'll see you in the morning.” Clown mumbles against his lips, lingering for a breath longer before pulling back, hands pulling away from Minutes body. 

Before he can get far, Minute reaches out and catches his wrist, “Clown? Spend the night here?” 

Clown shakes his head, “I cannot do that. Your best friend is about three floors away.. he will hear.” 

Minute frowns, tugging at his wrist lightly, trying to pull him back to bed. “I didn't mean it like that, you pervert. Sleep here– as in close your eyes and go unconscious." 

“Its nice you have so much faith in me, but I don't think I'll be able to keep my hands to myself after hearing you saying the L word to me, Minute. It's safer if I leave.”

Minute laughs lightly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “The “L word?” you're so peculiar. I'll see you in the morning.” 

“Yes, you will. Sleep well, My Love.” 

“You as well, Clown.”

Clown lingers in the doorway, frowning, “Just Clown? Come on, call me something else.” 

“Goodnight, ClownPierce.”

“Minute.” Clown whines, about to walk into the room again. 

“Nuhuh! If I call you a petname you'll jump my bones. Go to bed, Clown.”

Clown groans pathetically, shutting the door quietly as he leaves.

Minutes laughs to himself, getting comfortable in bed. 

He hadn't expected to end up actually falling in love with the man who kidnapped him– the man he was supposed to be investigating– but it makes sense, in a way. 

He never liked a boring, easy life anyways.