Hillzy

For a moment, Mumbo couldn’t even speak, blinking as he stared at Grian. Mumbo’s hand naturally guided over to the fallen man, extending for him to grab hold. He was in such a rush he mustn’t have noticed him in the commotion. Yet as his hand laid out before the other, he was only met with silence. 

He watched as Grian quickly tucked his arm away, abruptly reminding him why he was so cross in the first place. Mumbo's brows creased. “Grian…” His fingers curled into his palm, “We need to talk.” His tone grew stern, practically looming over him. A shadow cascaded down upon the avian, as the moon was overwhelmingly bright, framing Mumbo in the dark. The blonde's expression twinged, his eyes avoidant. As Mumbo spoke to him, his posture straightened, each word seemingly made him taller. Or maybe it was as if Grian was shrinking himself. Quickly, he uses his hands to push off the ground, a hiss escaping his lips. Clenching his fist, he turned it over to reveal the source of the stinging sensation. 

Luckily it was just a small scrape. Small beads of blood pooled from the injury, glistening from the moon's haze. Grian lets out a small sigh of exasperation. “I don't have time for this Mumbo, I’ve been very busy…” Grian’s voice began to falter. His eyes flick up, drawn to an ever growing shadow looming over him. Mumbo, his once friendly figure, was drastically different. Long bat ears sprouted where his human ones once were, and a long slender cat-like tail flicked impatiently. A sharp inhale was taken through Grian’s teeth, he had almost forgotten Mumbo's new appearance.

Mumbo commission by: wampyrclown (Twitter/Tiktok/Tumblr)

Before he could even begin to process what was happening Mumbo was quick to interject. “That’s absolute bull and you know it,” The man’s nose scrunched, his arms now crossed, “You have been doing nothing but going from home to work for the past week.” Grian’s brows furrowed, his eyes widening slightly as he looked up. He stared at Mumbo in silence for a moment before finally being able to force something out. “What on Earth are you going on about?” A slight breathy chuckle left his lips. Has he really been watching this whole time? His stomach twisted in knots at the thought. Was he really that desperate to talk to him? For a moment, Mumbo just stood there. His expression contorted as he looked away. Now that the words left him, and he was saying it out loud, it sounded pretty bad. “What else am I meant to do Grian?” His tone shifted, getting higher as he tried to explain himself, “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks! Not a single word of why!” “So… you decided to stalk me?” “Well, I wasn't stalking you! I was just… watching.” Mumbo began to trail off, “From very.. very far away…” He quickly shook his head, trying to retain his train of thought, “The point is, I just wanted to know if I did something wrong!” His voice faltered, “What did I do to make you not want to be around me anymore..?” Silence, once again, began to fill the space between them. Grian’s lips parted to say something before ultimately deciding to keep quiet. There was hesitation in his movements. His hands  crossed under his arms, as if hugging himself. “You didn’t do anything, Mumbo..” Grian couldn't even make eye contact. He couldn’t bear to see him like this. The more that he avoided the conversation, the more Mumbo seemed to pry— and as much as he wanted to give an explanation, nothing came to him. He began to chew on his cheek in an attempt to keep his mouth shut– the weight of it all felt overwhelming. He couldn't dare bring all that baggage to Mumbo and expect him to help unpack. “Well… obviously something happened!” Mumbo’s tone grew to desperation. The avian’s eyes locked with the taller man’s golden irises, flickering with light. “We need to talk, y-you can't just.. Keep running away..” Mumbo was now unfathomably close. The blonde's breath stifled, voice stammering as he felt his heart pound. It felt as though it was going to pop right out of his chest. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He couldn't help but feel his face get warm from how close they have gotten. After all these years of yearning, wishing to get closer to Mumbo, this wasn't exactly what he had imagined. Mumbo’s nose began to twitch. A familiar aroma wafting into his nose. 

‘Where on earth is it coming from?’ His eyes darted around to identify where the sickly sweet scent might be originating, ultimately landing on Grian’s hand. A beautiful golden sap rested on it. He cocked a brow. Maybe it was honey, Mumbo thought to himself, inching closer once again. The motion makes the blonde's face drop, his pupils now fixated on the man’s lips. 

Oh god, he knew that look. 

It was a familiar one, one of intrigue and admixture of hunger.  ‘It must be the effects of the love potion making Mumbo act,’ Grian thought to himself. His stomach once again twisted. This was everything Grian could have wanted and more. His dreams were just at arms length. Yet it was hell. Heaven was looking upon him; If he were to indulge in that fantasy, he surely would taint it. The taller man reached out hesitantly, gripping onto Grian’s wrist. Each finger curling and sending a shockwave of adrenaline through the avian's body—begging, screaming at him to run away. Mumbo keeps his investigation going, turning the other's hand and looking into his palm, brows furrowing.

art by: the__spiral (Tiktok/Twitter)

Everything seemed to happen so fast. Before he even had a chance to react, Grian had grabbed hold onto Mumbo’s forearm, twisting his wrist and arm around behind his back, making Mumbo yelp in return. A sharp exhale escaped the blonde's mouth, almost in shock. The two men stilled. “Uhm.. Grian…?” Mumbo tried turning his neck,  “I think this is a bit unnecessary.” 

A small twisted smile painted on his lips, mustache curling. He managed to squirm a bit underneath the other's grip—surprisingly calm for the position he was in. His feet shifted his weight as he chuckled slightly. Though Grian couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness, it was an obvious underreaction. How on earth was he so calm when he was seconds away from being thrown around? With a sharp gasp, Grian opened his hands, releasing his grip. The swift motion causes Mumbo to slip, stumble, and faceplant onto the ground; letting out a slight groan in pain. “Ugh.. Ow…” 

All Grian could do now is stare. Slowly his feet began to stumble backwards. “No.. No, no, no..” Grian’s breath hitched, pulling his arms into himself. Mumbo finally managed to pry himself from the ground. Trying to gather himself, he sat on his knees. His gaze being led by Grian’s voice, his brows creasing as he watches him stumble back. “Grian, it's okay, really.. I'm not even that hurt—” “No! I didn't want to hurt you at all!” The blonde began to cry out, “This?! This is what I've been trying to avoid! I shouldn't have helped you..” He hesitates, “I shouldn’t even have gotten this close to you.” He swallows, looking away. As he turned, he couldn't help but longingly stare into the thick forest beyond his house. Its silent solitude practically was lulling him in. “I.. I don’t understand.” Mumbo's heart sank. The avian sucked air between his teeth, letting out a sigh. His arms drifted, landing on his sides with a slap. “Of course you wouldn’t," Grian spat out. “You wouldn't understand, even if the reason hit you square in the face.” The words leave him abruptly. Turning heel, his feet begin to try to make some distance. Grian’s face contorted to a grimace. Perhaps he was being a bit too rash, but he just had to get it through Mumbo's head one way or another. “No! You can’t just—Grian!” Stumbling forward, Mumbo propelled himself off the ground, reaching out. 

As Grian’s steps quicken, so does Mumbo’s.

Soon, the two are speed walking, then sprinting. Nothing left but trails of dust and dirt left in their wake. The forest air carries the sounds of crinkling leaves and pebbles being strewn, echoing throughout the trees. 

Their feet fell heavy. The avian maneuvered swiftly, leaping over branches and ducking between foliage, a few of which managed to whack the mustached man straight in the face. 

A growl leaves Mumbo as he spits out a few leaves.

There was no destination in Grian’s mind, and at this point, his feet were moving on their own. He could barely catch his breath. His lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Panting at the cold night air, each inhale brought a sting to his throat. All Grian knew was that he had to get away. The last time he got close with someone—the time he truly thought he had a connection with Scar—Grian was forced to kill him with his bare hands. Forced by the Watchers that gave him power, the same Watchers that promised him freedom. The very same Watchers that had prying eyes on his and Mumbo’s chase. Frustratingly, each action only seemed to draw more and more attention to him. Grian knew deep down that he would never be able to escape them, but now they were dragging his friends into his mess. His mind could only conjure horrible scenarios, his throat tightening. This only motivated him to move faster. Now ducking between trees, twisting between them. 

He could barely manage to hear Mumbo.

“Grian!! Please!!” Mumbo practically cried out, his feet staggering as he tried desperately not to trip over anything else. It didn’t help that his height was giving a clear disadvantage in the moment, stumbling over roots as he attempted to duck under branches. Mumbo just didn't understand why Grian was so quick to run away. Maybe the mistake was deliberate, but it was still a mistake. It was something they could easily talk about—work though. Though before long his legs finally came to a halt– hands resting on his knees as he gasped for air. “Stars,” Mumbo spoke through breaths, looking out to the night sky almost as if to speak to them, "I've got to get into better shape.” He gulped for air, the pounding in his ears began to subside. Though curiously, he could still hear pebbles and branches being strewn about. He looked down at his own two feet to check if they were still moving. 

Of course they weren't. What a silly thought to have. Mumbo’s head raised up, ears tilting towards the commotion. His senses were still something to get used to. For a moment, it sounded like Grian was still running beside him. Amongst the commotion, something piqued his interest, his ear flicking at the small trinkling of a bell. Slowly, he adjusted himself. Looking into the dark forest, a wave of nostalgia hit him. This felt all too familiar, didn't it? The thick brambles and foliage called out to him, slowly luring him deeper into the greenwood. All he had to do now was follow that trail.

It finally seemed as though Grian had lost Mumbo. His feet slow to a halt as they shuffle through dried leaves. The air was thick and oppressive, each breath seemed like a hopeless intake. He barely had a moment to gather his surroundings before a familiar voice rang out to him. “Why are you running?..” His very own voice seemed to call from deep within the forest, echoing throughout the thicket—making the blonde snap his head towards the direction. 

He could make out a figure in the darkness, fading just as fast as appeared, resulting in Grian growling in exasperation. He frantically looked around, twisting and turning to no avail. “You’ve wanted this for so long, yet you’re running away? Why?” The voice was thick with contempt. “Drop the high and mighty act and show yourself!” Grian spat out. His hands tightening into a fist, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. His usual confident tone wavered slightly. “What ever are you talking about?” a small hum rang out, sinister and sly. “Drop it! I know you don't talk like that, just drop it!” “Fine. Whatever.” The doppelganger’s voice fell flat, bordering on monotone, “Now, can you explain why you’re ruining my story?” Grian could hardly believe what he was hearing; Midas had a common disregard of what he wanted, sure, but this was bordering on plain apathy. It was starting to get dangerous.  “Your story?!.. It's my life!” Grian practically pleaded out as he stared into the seemingly endless forest. Maybe coming into here really was a bad idea. With how on edge Grian was, the shadows of the forest were already playing tricks on him, shapes growing and shrinking, reaching out to him. His breath hitched, holding himself close as he tried to ground himself. Fizzling through the fog, a figure appeared before him, its light broken. A sinister smile plastered on the doppelganger's face.

“Awe, come on. You’re acting as if you’re not enjoying it a bit.” Midas cocked his head, golden locks falling over his face, cascading like a river. His once endearing smile was now sick and twisted. Grian was left speechless, his mouth agape, yet nothing left him. This was met with a soft chuckle from the figure, inching slowly closer and closer to him. “How long have the two of you been pining for? And you're sitting here and acting as if you’re not enjoying how desperate he's getting.” Midas began to slowly circle Grian, their feet both now in motion. A dance between the two began, both maneuvering around each other. Both not wanting the other to leave their own view.  Midas’s unwavering assurance was starting to make Grian’s palms sweat. 

Where on earth was this confidence coming from? Did he have something to do with how Mumbos was acting? As if the Midas could sense what the avian was thinking, it began to speak. A chuckle leaving the beast. “Oh, I have nothing in particular planned for you. Not yet, at least. I was just stalling.” Grian’s brow twitched, his stature relaxing slightly as he stared the other down. “What?” Snap. A small creak of a twig just manages to catch the avian's attention. His eyes opened wide, looking hopelessly into the desolate forest. An endless void stood in front of him with no apparent indication of human life. If his heart wasn't pounding before, it was practically ready to pop. The only discernible thing he could make out of the deep forest was two little gold dots staring directly back at him.

Grian was luckily lucid enough for his feet to begin his escape, stumbling over himself. A low, deep growl emanated from the forest. The sound of shuffling gets closer. “Oh no you don’t!” A voice called from behind him Before Grian could make any real distance, the chase gets cut short—the other leaping and pinning him down onto the ground. “If you’re not going to talk, can you at least listen?!” Mumbo's usual slicked back hair now laid unkempt, strands fallen over his face. The moonlight once again framed his figure with a soft glow. A lump formed in Grian’s throat—staring up at the disheveled man. At this point, did he really have a choice? Each attempt he made to wedge a gap between the two of them was deemed hopeless. His head turned to avoid his gaze, eyes now locked onto Mumbo’s movements. “I don’t know what's gotten into you. Hell, it doesn’t even matter at this point! I'm not going to let you ruin our friendship over some stupid potion!” Mumbo spat out. His body was trembling from adrenaline. Two pairs of eyes now interlocked, their breathing still heavy from the chase they endured. At least Grian now seemed to be willing to listen. He barely attempted to move as Mumbo trapped his torso between his hands. Grass blades poked Mumbo's fingers from how tightly he was gripping them. For a moment, Mumbo hesitated; He really never expected to get this far. His words stammered as he stared at Grian who was in between his palms. “I don’t care if it was an accident—on purpose—it doesn't matter.. Whatever happened, we can talk through it!” It was wishful thinking.

If it was as easy as talking through a few things, Grian would have done it already. “I don't think this is something I can just simply talk about..” Grian’s voice was soft but layered with a growl from a sore in his throat,  “I’ve been dealing with this for years.” Mumbo's eyebrows furrowed, turning his head to look away, taking his words into consideration. After a moment, he spoke. “Alone?” The blonde was quick to protest, “Well—no, of course not,” but there was hesitation. Mumbo’s words rang almost as clear as Gem’s. The words that fell out of Grian’s mouth were the very same excuse he gave earlier today. His brows furrowed. Grian didn’t want to admit it, but maybe they were right. Maybe he really was doing this all on his own. If he really wanted anything to change, he would have to take those steps towards it, but it was terrifying. For so long he had kept up these walls, secrets to protect himself. Could he really trust himself to let them down? Would Mumbo forgive him? “This.. has nothing to do with the potion.” The avian's words were slow and calculated. “Do you happen to remember, way back when I told you that I was a realm hopper?” The time seemed so distant, it was hard for Mumbo to recall. Grian had always been vague about his past. There had been sprinkles of information about a bad homelife, a terrible school and a rotten job, but any more prodding got Grian in a disorganized state with a distant stare. There was one time Mumbo happened to ask how Grian ended up in hermitcraft. Maybe this is what he is referring to? Asking resulted in a small but firm nod from Grian as confirmation. “Well.. I was only telling half of the truth in all honesty..” His words began to trail off, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m a watcher.” The word felt familiar to Mumbo, yet there was a cloud of confusion hanging over him. Sure, he's heard the villagers mention it before, though he’s never gotten any specifics. The word meant practically nothing to him. “That's nice and all.. but what does that mean exactly?” Grian’s face contorted for a moment, his nose crunching before stifling a chuckle. He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or relieved he never heard of such a thing. He decided on the latter. “Before Hermitcraft.. before any of this. I was just a normal human, with stupid ambitions,” As Grian began to explain he relaxed into the earth, tilting his head to look into the night sky. His eyes glazed over each individual star, connecting them as he went. He continued, “I was stuck in a dead end job. No ambitions or goals. At least, that’s what everyone seemed to tell me. What I was really passionate about was computers—telling stories.” The taller man's ears perked slightly. That clearly caught his attention. A small weary smile planted on Grian’s lips before continuing. “I wanted more. More than I could get. I wanted a new body, a new life.. and that's exactly what they promised to me.” Grian could almost feel the cold desolate office space he was cramped into. “They’re beings that can create realities, then bend them to their will. Anything and everything I could ever want is at my fingertips.” Grian’s arm extended, lifting his palm face up for Mumbo to see. A warm and familiar glow began to emanate from his finger tips, sparks of gold dust flaking off and dissipating into the air. Mumbo's eyes soften slightly, in awe of the sight. “That's amazing..” Mumbo breathed. The avian's hand quickly clenches, extinguishing the light. A hiss escapes his palm. “They also feed off of emotion. Typically negative ones,” Grian’s face twisted with scorn, watching as smoke lifted from his hand. “They’re parasites.” Mumbo's lips spread out thin, looking away for a bit. “Thats.. less amazing.” A soft chuckle escaped the avian's lips, “You could say that again.” Through the silence, Mumbo watched as the blonde's chest rose and fell. He often caught himself watching Grian, but now, it felt different somehow. 

Every flaw, every imperfection seemed to be a brush stroke on a piece of art. Even with sweaty palms and messy hair, heavy breaths, Mumbo deemed him perfect in every way. Mumbo knew these feelings, they were familiar to him, but maybe he just didn't know how to place them before. He cared for Grian, but the distance between them drove him crazy. Was he scared of losing him? 

Of course he was. Grian’s eyes were glazed over, deep in thought. Mumbo couldn’t even imagine what was going through his head. How he just wished to know what was haunting him. Maybe, just maybe, he could take a fraction of that pain away. But how do you even begin to comfort someone when you can't find the words? How do you help someone when you desperately need help yourself? “But.. you don’t do that. Do you?” The words leave Mumbo without a second thought. Grian pulled back a bit in surprise, his expression twisting. It was a genuine question, maybe a bit abrupt, but there was no malice coming from it. “Well, no..” Grian’s words were hesitant—unsure of himself—almost as if he'd never thought of it before. Do pranks count? Before Grian could even begin to contemplate the thought, Mumbo continued on. “You want to know something, Grian? I don't think you’re anything like those beings you speak of. I mean, the fact you care this much says at least something about your character, right?” A small, weary, but genuine smile curled on Mumbo’s lips. “But what if I hurt you..?” Grian’s voice cracked slightly, his jaw clenching from stifling back tears. The taller man's brows furrowed, sitting on the question for a moment before once again speaking up. “Well, of course you will hurt me.” Mumbo almost doesn't give the statement a second thought, before catching Grian’s expression. The blonde stared right through him, making Mumbo stammer. “B-but I'm going to hurt you too! It’s inevitable, there's no way we can guarantee not hurting each other! Through those moments, we will learn where we lack empathy and communication..” Mumbo began to trail off, his whole body somehow left sweatier than he did before. “Stars, I really am bad at finding words..” Mumbo let out a pitiful whimper, grumbling to himself. “No, I think I understand what you’re getting at..” Grian once again rested his head, looking back to the sky. He blinked a few times to clear the tears from the corners of his eyes. “So.. I'm assuming you know about the potion then?” Grian’s gaze was avoidant. Mumbo winced, clicking his tongue as he recalled events earlier that day. “I had a talk with Scar and Cub about it.The potion actually turned me into a fruit bat.” The taller man solemnly stated, hanging his head a bit. ‘Wait. What?’ Grian’s view was quickly returned to the other, his brows creasing. “The… potion did that?” He asked in disbelief. That just didn’t make any sense, especially with what he and Gem talked about earlier. The ingredients were specific, only used in love spells. Surely, Gem would have mentioned something, especially if there were elements of transformative magic in the potion. “It’s funny actually, I was coming over your way because I smelled something.” Mumbo hummed softly. He sat back on his calves, tilting his head as he spoke, “Everything feels different now. I can hear better, I can see better and even taste better! I don’t think I've felt this good in months,” Mumbo’s hand slowly began to grace Grian’s hand, slowly enveloping it and squeezing it, “You’ve been so worried about hurting me. When actually, if you really think about it, the potion helped a lot more than expected.”  Slowly, their fingers interlocked. Mumbo’s thumb gently grazing itself over the back of Grian’s hand. 

“Just imagine what kind of things you could do when you’re doing it on purpose.” Mumbo’s eyes locked into the others, getting lost in them. “But—” Grian hesitates, trying to force out his words, “That’s just not possible.. Gem said it was a love potion..” As the words fell from Grian’s mouth, a realization hit him. If Mumbo truly was only reacting from a potion, none of these feelings would be real, right? But through his worried words, Mumbo smiled back at him, an unwavering confidence that was a bit unusual from him, but nonetheless welcome. A red hue was plastered over his face. “Whatever potion it was, It helped. I feel better. I think I understand myself a bit better now, too..” Mumbo's words stammered as he tried to explain himself, “When you avoided me, I realized I didn't want to lose you. But not as a friend. I didn’t want you to leave my life. I wanted to be the person you went to when you needed to talk about something. I wanted you to crave my presence as much as I craved yours.”  There was hesitation. All Grian could do was stare, watching Mumbo’s iris flare with a golden glow. “I loved you long before the potion, Grian. Nothing will change that fact.”

It had been days if not weeks at this point. Mumbo was left with more questions than answers; In the span of a night, he had changed. His appearance, his attitude, his hunger. He felt fundamentally different. Something was off. Potion effects were known to be instantaneous, but they took hold overnight. Every time Mumbo thought he had come to a conclusion as to why, it fell apart. He thought, ‘Maybe the magic may have been delayed’. Yet these types of cases were unheard of. It just made no sense. Though, to be fair, Mumbo was never good at magic. It fascinated him, sure, but he could never quite figure it out. It had its own rules, its own boundaries—but even then it didn't always stick to them. He much rather keep to redstone, it felt safer and more calculated. Even so he felt as if there was a force dragging him back in—captivating him. He couldn’t stay away. For the past few days, Mumbo found himself preoccupied trying to decipher the golden book. Yet no matter how much he researched he came to a dead end. The Villagers were no help either, their words vague and cryptic. Watchers? Or was it Observers? His head began to spin, his stomach churning. It seemed like after he fixed one problem, two more would rear their heads. First, being sick from a virus, but now he just couldn't seem to keep anything down. Normal food didn't seem to have an appeal to him anymore, yet he couldn't bring himself to actually hurt anything. To slay it, and consume it seemed like an entirely other daunting task. And to top it all off, Grian was now distant. 

At first, it was general excuses of having to help someone, or that he was busy with a project, but now he was just being blatant—completely turning heel and speed walking off as soon as he caught a glimpse of the taller man—now it felt deliberate and malicious. ‘He could have at least made some attempt at an excuse’, Mumbo thought to himself. His nose twitching and scrunching a bit as he watched the other make his escape. His tail flicked in annoyance. It had gotten to a point where Mumbo had begun to sneak around Grian himself. Hiding behind buildings and peeking around corners to try and figure out why Grian had been so standoffish. It wasn't his proudest moment, he would admit. A twinge of guilt tended to follow him around. ‘Would this be considered stalking?’ Mumbo shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Grian had the same routine every day, work to home. One path. No detours. It was like he was trying to avoid everyone completely. Today was different. Instead of taking the usual route, he decided to make a detour, taking a sharp left in the path and walking to the rustic wooden docks. Grian had taken a moment to rummage through his belongings.

Mumbo trailing right behind him. Finally, he would catch Grian in a moment of vulnerability and confront him. There would be nowhere to run. No excuses—just two adults talking. Mumbo had already planned out the conversation in his head. He shuffled behind a few buildings, peeking behind the corners and observing. Eventually, he finds himself behind Grian’s fishing hut. His palms began to sweat, pushing aside the twinge of guilt in his stomach. Subconsciously, he knew what he was doing was wrong. However, he felt as if there was no other choice. He needed to know why Grian was avoiding him, he needed to know if he did something wrong. He needed him to be direct. It was driving him mad. His weight shifts, preparing himself. Yet he's hesitant. Something feels off.His feet glued to the ground, stuck in place—watching. It wasn't out of nervousness—no—something subconsciously was telling him to stay put. 

Mumbo didn’t look like it, but he was the type to believe in superstition. Logically, he knew it was out of pure anxiety, yet he couldn't help but listen to this small thought. Then, sure enough, another voice called from far away.

His breath hitched.

Pulling himself further behind the hut he pressed his back firmly against the wall, trying to be as small as possible. His hands quickly grabbed hold of his tail and held it close. “Grian?! Grian, where are you?!” An angry but familiar voice called from the path. Mumbo’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to place it.

‘Was that Gem? What was she doing over here?’ Shuffling from the fishing hut grew louder and disorganized. From the sound of it, Grian was practically scrambling. Things clinking and clanking together before the blonde bursted out of the building, then quickly running off to the right.

“Grian what are you—oh. Ohhh no.” Gem stopped in her tracks, looking Grian up and down, then let out a sigh. “Are you stress fishing?” Her hands fell to her hips. “What? That's not a thing. People don't stress-fish.” The man was completely avoiding eye contact. His view firmly fixated on the bobber that was cascading against the lake waves. “You stress-fish.” Gem reiterated.

Plopping herself down, both their feet now dangled above the water. The wood creaked from their weight.

“You have been avoiding everyone recently.. It’s almost the end of the season. Scar said he found you passed out at his base, and you haven’t shaved in about a week. Obviously something is wrong.” Her voice grew a bit stern. 

Grian wasn’t the type to respond to tenderness. You couldn't be subtle. If you wanted answers from him you had to be direct. 

The blonde grimaced. 

“What isn’t wrong..” he muttered under his breath. As he stared into the water he could see his own warped reflection.

“And that! You’re being so deprecating!” Gem snapped. Her voice raised slightly, “I know sometimes you need your space. And I get that, but.. I’m worried—” She catches herself,   “No—EVERYONE’S worried! So many people are worried..”

Gem turned her head back to the water. “I just don’t want you to think you’re alone. You don’t have to be, you know?” 

A small plop came from the sea, the bobber now submerging. Grian was quick to reel it in, tugging at the rod. “I know I'm not alone.. But..” His voice dropped, holding the line and checking it—a glittering book attached. Gem scooted a bit closer. The title was smudged, but they could barely make it out. Efficiency four. Not exactly what he had in mind.

Grian sighed, flicking his hand up—a small purple light emerged—haphazardly, he tossed the book into his inventory, the rift flickering shut after. “But..?” Gem reiterated. It seemed like she wasn't going to let it down.

“I.. feel like I keep hurting people. Unintentionally.” He once again cast his rod into the water, his grip tightening. Waves carried the hook, shadows of fishes passing under, uninterested.

“Last time I visited Mumbo.. he was going on about immortality and I panicked. He was making a potion and..” Grian hesitated. “I… changed an ingredient.” He winced. Gem’s face twinged, wanting to say something, but she kept her lips sealed. Nodding, she waited for him to continue.

“I already know what you’re going to say. I know I shouldn’t have, but—god, I really didn’t know what to do! I didn’t want him to go through anything I’ve been through! .. Or what Scar did..” Grian’s shoulders began to tense, shrinking into himself. 

His mind called back to that night. He had woken up with Mumbo snugly in his arms, clinging somewhat desperately from the nightmare he endured. His embrace was soft and protective. Looking down he had noticed Mumbo too was clinging onto him. Their legs were interlocked. Grian had never felt so safe.

In the back of his mind, he knew this feeling would never last. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly sat up and examined the other. His eyes tried to adjust to the low light.

Mumbo's features had changed. He ran his fingers through Mumbo's thick dark hair, reaching and rubbing his ears, their tails interlocked. The sun had just begun to peek through the bedroom curtains, the light resting softly on the mustached man's face. For a moment, Grian held the other in his arms. He could have prevented this. He could have saved him. Yet, he didn’t. No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does. Everything he touches dies.

His hand trailed back to Mumbo’s cheek, gently caressing it. 

He failed him. 

Tears began to well in his eyes. He blinked desperately to clear his vision. His breath quivered. Watching Mumbo, his skin began to desaturate, going from a fair ivory to a now sickly grey.

At least, he could have sworn it was.

No, it couldn't be–he tried to reassure himself. His balled fist wiped his face, hopelessly trying to clear the hallucination from his eyes. Grian’s chest tightened.

He wanted to sob. 

He wanted to scream and yell ‘till his lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Yet nothing came out—his mouth dry. Nothing but a pitiful whimper left his lips.

It was happening all over again. His friend once again left in his arms. Blood once again left on his hands. “Scar..” He finally managed to choke out with a sob. Gem wrapped her arms around him tightly, a soft gasp of air escaped Grian’s lips as he returned to reality. His shoulders slumped over–His breathing quivered. “Take a deep breath, G.. you’re not there anymore…” She reassured, rubbing small circles on his back. His breath slowly eased back to normal, head now leaning against her shoulder. Looking out to the sea, he stared at the water once again. Almost as if reminding himself he was here by the docks,not back in the desert. This was never easy for either of them. It was uncomfortable. It was messy. Gem wasn’t sure how to properly reassure Grian. In reality there's never a real way to do it. All she could really do is sit and be a shoulder to cry on, even if it were just for a moment. Silence enveloped them both. The sun now starting to set, casting a brilliant amber hue on the land. There was a light breeze in the air sweeping leaves onto the ground. For a moment, it felt like there was nothing else in the world but them.

Behind the fishing hut, Mumbo couldn’t help but feel guilty. Realistically he knew he should be upset. Actually—he was. He just couldn’t keep a grudge now knowing that Grian had a reason for it. The mustached man contemplates, a moment passing. It might be best to come back to the conversation at a later date. Besides, he could barely think. His stomach clenches and twists, overwhelming him with nausea. He almost forgot the lack of food he’s gotten. His mind now falls back to the other issue at hand. Hunger. Where on Earth is he going to be able to find easy and sustainable blood? He could never bear the thought of asking one of the actual Hermits for help. Hurting anything was the last thing on his mind. Heck—he had a whole season dedicated to peace, love and plants! He wasn't just going to suddenly give up now. For the past few weeks he had been tiding himself over with meat bought from the shopping district, yet the blood was never enough. Funnily enough, it made him feel queasy. Though that must be from the quality, surely. He slowly turned his body in the direction of one of his neighbors' bases. 

A thought occurred to him.

‘Scar has a zoo, right?’ ‘Surely with him having a mixture of both animal and monster exhibits, he might have some spare food for vampires..’ His brows furrowed, placing his hand on his chin. Logically, his line of reasoning felt sound. Without a second thought, he began his way off. He looked around, making sure no one could see him in the process, his stomach now guiding his feet. He would just have to come back to this later, when he had all of his thoughts gathered. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? Tell me what ingredients you put in it..” Gem redirected the other. Grian blinked, attempting to ground himself. “Oh.. Let me think…” Sitting up a bit he began to recall the list, “Well I think a few of the basic things: Salt, roses, cinnamon..” His voice trailed off. Hoisting back his fishing rod, he whipped it back into the water. Maybe if he kept his hands busy, he could keep his mind off things. Gem counted on her fingers–listing off the ingredients in her head, “Alright, that makes sense so far.. But what's the ingredient you changed?” Every ingredient given so far seemed simple enough–they weren't even strong enough to make a spell on its own. Her brows furrowed slightly. What on earth could have made Grian so shaken up? “It was a blood orange.” Grian mentioned casually, his gaze still fixated on the water. Gems posture straightened, her eyes widening slightly. “..And you replaced it with?” She leaned a bit closer, making Grian pull away instinctively. “Uh—a regular orange..?” He could already sense he screwed up somehow. Sweat began to bead at his forehead. Gem used her forefinger and thumb, grabbing the bridge of her nose. Hissing slightly from her teeth. 

“Yep! Yep, don’t freak out.." She tried to reassure the other, but he had already begun to spin out. “I'm already freaked out, Gem!” Grian’s tone raised slightly, the woman putting her hands up slightly in protest. Grian’s voice faltered–toning himself down,“Just… Please tell me what I did wrong.” He let out a defeated sigh, his hands now clinging to the wooden rod. He must have heightened Mumbo’s illness, or worse– hexed him. His mind only rounded back to the worst case scenario. “Okay! Okay, so… You might have actually… made..” Gem began to wince, her voice faltering slightly. “..a love potion?” Her lips pulled back to a nervous smile–once again putting her hands out slightly to calm the other. The blonde stared at her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. Surely, he must have misheard her. “What.”

Mumbo stood, looking up at the overwhelmingly large vet building. He had never been to one before, and to say it was intimidating was an understatement. Sure, there were a few Hermits that had to go to the vet every once in a while, he just never thought he would be added to the roster. His shoulders tensed slightly from embarrassment. Hesitantly swallowing his pride, his hand grabbed hold of the door handle, swinging it open. “Welcome! Welcome in, take a seat—uh.. Mumbo?” Calling out from the front desk was Scar, grabbing a few supplies from the drawer. He perked up in interest, now leaning over the desk. “Well, if it isn't the mustached man himself! What can I do for you?” Scar politely tipped his safari hat. 

Mumbo returned a timid smile. “I was wondering if you had any leftover blood bags? Or even a blood vial would do..” His body instinctively curled around himself, holding onto his torso. His stomach tightened. Scar’s face contorted, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Blood bags? What on Earth do you need those for?” His eyes dragged up and down, seeing how large his ears have gotten. “Oh. That's new, right?” Scar pointed over, “I didn't happen to miss that?” “Yeah, no, these are new…” Mumbo chuckled a bit, softly grabbing told of one of them. “I.. may have changed myself into a vampire.” The taller man's weight shifted slightly, his tail trying to hide itself. Scars eyes carefully squinted, looking the taller man up and down once more. “Vampire...” Scar reiterated, still pointing at him, his gaze interlocked.

Mumbo started to shift uncomfortably. “Uhm yes, that's why I've come by. Thought you would have some left over blood—” Mumbo's voice faltered when Scar held out his palm. “Hold that thought right there, Mumbo. I'm going to uh.. Just…”  He quickly motioned over at a few of the chairs behind Mumbo. “You know what? S-Sit down for a second.” Mumbo turns around to the quaint waiting room. It was small, but there were a few magazines and posters to look at. The ceiling lights above buzzed, hurting Mumbo's ears. “Hey, Cub! I'm going to need you over for a moment!” Scar cupped his hand to accentuate his voice. “Cub’s here?” Mumbo queried as he made his way over to one of the seats. As he sat down, the metal squeaked under pressure. “Yeah! He likes to help around sometimes when he's bored.” Scar leaned his weight onto the desk, “He likes to do all the technical stuff while I get to actually hang out with the animals!” Scar flashed a small smile, dimples forming in his cheeks. The Vex reached down and pulled out one of the drawers, taking a few sheets of paper. “I’m sure he's going to want you to fill these in.” Lifting himself from his station, he walked over to Mumbo and handed some paperwork to him. The taller man eyes quickly darting over the information. “It’s just some test stuff so we can make sure we’re giving you the best care we can offer.” Scar crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside the other. As Cub walks in, Scar is quick to pull him aside and explain the situation, keeping their voices quiet. After filling out the information, Mumbo waited expectantly as the doctors went through the documentation. Looking through it, they were left stumped—once again walking away to talk amongst themselves. They decided it would be best to do some further testing, bringing him back to do blood work, x-rays, and a multitude of photographs of his eyes. Finally, they sat Mumbo on an examination table, his body uncomfortable as he waited. The room was once again small and dimly lit. It was a bit grungy with little furniture, which made sense in retrospect. It was a vet after-all, not a regular clinic. He wondered how often he would need to visit this place if he was going to need food. It felt like hours at this point. He thought he would never go home. Was this all truly necessary? ‘Might as well start planning on moving in..’ Mumbo thought, trying to entertain himself. He was growing bored from sitting in one place, tail flicking back and forth impatiently. There was a bit of commotion from the two doctors, whispering to each other as they shuffled through his papers. Cub spoke out loud, “There’s your problem: you may not be a vampire after-all.” Silence filled the room, Mumbo’s eyes widening. 

The stout man began to speak, “I was checking your X-ray chart—like your teeth for example. Usually, vampire hybrid teeth tend to grow and protrude from either the top canines, or the bottom ones. Yours however,” Cub motioned over to the taller man, “They seem to be the exact same size. Which makes me believe that you might actually be a fruit bat instead.” Mumbo's face paled. All of this work, all of this time—the spell was a complete flunk? Something always seemed to go wrong with him. With all of this bad luck, he was starting to consider he was cursed entirely. A groan escaped him. “You see, fruit bats aren't that much different evolutionary wise. They may have sharp teeth, but if you’re turning into one.. well, your teeth wouldn't need to change.” Cub walked over to his desk and sorted through, pulling out a pen. “That was my first clue. That, and the fact that you don't have bat wings, you don't burn in the sun..” Cubs voice tapered off, eyes trailing over the documents, then once again at the photographs of Mumbo’s eyes. There was just something that wasn’t connecting; All of the features Mumbo was presenting made sense, except for his eyes. Something was different. Mumbo wasn’t saying something.“W-well… I thought that was just a myth, no?” Mumbo’s brows furrowed.  “Do they not glitter in the sun?” His hands now intertwined, twiddling his thumbs. “Oh! I think I heard Grian talk about that once! They do that only at the Twilight hour!” Scar called out from the other side of the room, rummaging through a mini fridge. A few cans and glasses clinking from pushing them aside. “I have no idea what the two of you are talking about, but that's just completely not true.” Cub peeked up from the photographs, deciding to press it a bit. “How did you manage to do this in the first place?” Mumbo never had the opportunity to talk about this before. He wasn't exactly sure where to start. Gingerly, he tried to explain. “I’ve.. been sick. For a while. I was aging rapidly. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me– and I figured after some time it might have gone away on its own.. but one thing led to another..” “Ahh, I get it. One second you’re chasing fairies, next thing you know you’re making a deal with them.” Scar solemnly nodded. Mumbo's brows furrowed, “That’s.. strangely a good comparison?” His mind rounded back to that golden creature. How it glimmered and sparkled, casting a beautiful light on him.

Did he have something to do with this? A small hum left his lips. “Don't mind him..” Cub took a moment into consideration. Reaching from behind his ear he grabbed a pen, making it click. The stout man began to write down a few things on a small piece of paper. “He's right though, you know. A lot of us have gotten ourselves into a situation similar to yours.” He hummed softly. “Sometimes when you’re backed into a corner you do desperate things.” Cub’s eyes flicked up, looking the taller man over. Mumbo swallowed a lump in his throat. At least it was comforting to know that he didn't seem silly in this situation. Scar walked back, his heels clicking against the cold tile floor. He was holding something. As he got closer, it was revealed to be two objects, an apple and a vial of blood. A sickly sweet aroma emitted from the fruit, making Mumbo's mouth practically water. His nose twinged slightly. Quickly, he slapped his hand against his mouth. He didn’t expect to act so instinctively. He quickly shook his head, trying to get rid of the feeling. “I’ve got a vial of blood, just like you wanted. But I think we both know what you really need.” The Vex tossed over the objects. They slip into Mumbo’s hands, causing him to juggle them before he could catch it. Both of them held a beautiful crimson color. Mumbo’s shoulders slumped slightly as he looked them over. “You know Mumbo, if you really wanted to live forever, you should have turned into a lobster.” Scar simply put, making the man snap out of his dissociation. “What?” Mumbo’s brows furrowed, looking up. He half expected Scar to be just spouting nonsense. “Well, like, you know lobsters cells regenerate so fast! They are known to live for thousands of years. They don't die from old age!” Scar motioned to him, desperately trying to explain himself. “I swear I brought it up for a reason!” Mumbo's gaze fixated on Scar for a moment—only leaving a small blink or two in response. A small hum left his lips. 

Why didn't he come here sooner? 

That seemed like a fairly easier idea than what he had.  Mumbo carefully began to inspect the vial, turning it slightly in his hand. He didn’t want to admit it, but the sight made him a bit queasy, watching the thick liquid press on the glass. He swallowed. “You two won't say anything about this, right? Not a word?” Mumbo lifted his head, looking at the two. They both perked up in interest. The doctors gave a glance to each other. “Hey man, if you want to be known as a vampire, the secret stays here in this room with us..” A small sly smirk pulled on Cub’s lips. “Deal?” The taller man reached his hand out for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly pulls his hand away, yelping as he sees a blue glint in the doctor's eyes. “WOAH! Hey! NO—not falling for that. No deals.” Mumbo instinctively curled his arms into himself and his tail clinged to his leg, making the two giggle in return.. “Sorry man, I was just trying to mess with you.” Cub returned his view to the desk, hand gliding his pen through the paperwork. “Of course we will keep it a secret. No promises needed.” Mumbo let out a small sigh. Sitting up, he once again looked at the objects in his hands, starting to make his way out. “Take care, Mumbo! If you need anything, my doors are wide open!” Scar cupped his hand, waving goodbye as the taller man walked away. Mumbo giving a small, timid wave in return. As much as he wanted to convince himself he wanted to drink the vial of blood, he couldn't help admitting how enticing the fruit was. He didn't even think apples could smell this good. His hands twinged. Originally the ritual was just to escape his illness, but Mumbo couldn't help but admit the idea of being a vampire was alluring. A grumble escaped him in frustration, reluctantly sliding the vial into a pocket of his. Walking outside of the Veterinary, his hands tossed the apple into the air. Catching it one last time, his arm used one of his sleeves to wipe it down in small circles. The scarlet fruit shimmered, luring him in. Bringing it closer, his teeth sank hesitantly into the fruit. It wasn’t long before Mumbo had quickly taken another bite, then a few more. Never before had he tasted grace with such a flavor—with each chomp he could feel his energy returning to him. His face was sticky from how messily he had consumed it, juice now dripping from his chin. He tried to lap it up, licking his lips, he hummed in satisfaction. When was the last time he was actually able to eat food like this? Looking up, he had almost forgotten he was standing in public—sheepishly now covering his face—luckily, no one seemed to be around. ‘At least the food situation is sorted..’ As Mumbo trekked his way through the tall forest, he was left with time to think. Leaves crunched underneath his feet. With a full stomach and a clear head, he made his way back to Grian’s base. From what he understood, Grian had deliberately changed an ingredient in the potion—possibly for a good reason. Yet, there was still a breach of trust. Mumbo didn't understand why Grian couldn't have just explained himself, surely he would have understood in the moment. Surely. Plus it didn't explain why Grian was so distant lately. Now would probably be the best time to confront him and actually put all of this behind them. It was dark now, moon light dappled through the tree leaves, resting on his skin. Night time came so rarely on the Server, it was hard to ever appreciate it. Looking up to the sky he took a moment to bask. 

The night sky seemed endless, thousands of stars sprawled across twinkled and gleamed down on the Hermitcraft Server. In Mumbo’s mind, he liked to imagine they were other worlds looking back at him. It comforted him in a way—to think that something, or someone, was looking up at the very night sky as him. The moon was just as beautiful. Though, he was having difficulty putting exactly why it was drawing him in. Then it suddenly hit him. No—the moon itself wasn't beautiful—it was its light. Its light was drawing him in. He tilted his head back a bit, basking—its warmth was almost as great as the suns. Sadly though, all the moon was good for was reflecting that light. 

What is the moon without the sun? His feet mindlessly continued to follow the scarce dirt path. As they moved, a sickly sweet scent wafted over to him. His ears perked up. Peeking over the wheat field, his eyes squinted to identify the location of the fragrance. Curious, his nose began to guide him, leading him into the field. It seemed to be emitting from behind the fishing hut. 

His brows furrowed. 

Maybe Grian left a bag down somewhere. He was always leaving things behind, leaving them for Mumbo to collect. Small scraps of papers, feathers, metal bottle caps and what not. Maybe he left some spare fruit around. The boardwalk was silent, only the sounds of waves crashing against the shore were left alongside the tapping of Mumbo’s Heels on the dock, and leaves scraping about. A small, confused hum left the mustached man's lips. There didn't seem to be anything laying around—yet the smell was stronger than ever. 

“Have you ever worked on anything mechanical—like this, Grian?” The taller man nodded over to the clock he had been working on, various cogs and screws strewn about on his desk. “Mechanical?” The bird queried, taking his eyes off from the book he had been reading. “Well, I mean, I used to work with computers. Not sure if you would call that mechanical though.” He explained as he placed his wine glass on a coaster. Mumbo slowly leaned back in his chair, placing down the screwdriver he was holding. “Com-puters, hm?” The word felt a bit foreign to him, playing with how it sounded in his mouth. “What did you do then?” 

Grian clicked his tongue, looking up for a moment to think. How do you describe computers to someone who had never been around them? 

“Well, essentially they’re like these medium-sized box machines. They have a digital display,” The mustached man’s eyes lit up—sitting up slightly in attention as the blonde continued, “I used to get paid to fix other people’s issues, on their own device.” 

“Ah, so a mechanic! Kind of like me!” The mustached man gave a cheery smile, the ends curling slightly. Turning back to his desk, he continued his work as Grian spoke. 

“Kind of? Never was interested in it that much though.. I liked making games with them.” 

“Ah, so like Tango then.” Mumbo hummed softly. He could only imagine what kind of games the other could make with a machine like that. 

Shuffling slightly in his seat, he parted his shirt. Usually, he would be uncomfortable to be this indecent in front of someone, but the room had become a bit too stuffy for his liking. Plus, Grian was probably the last person to be uncomfortable with an unbuttoned shirt. 

Well, maybe—except for Scar.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" The sudden seriousness in the blonde's tone made Mumbo jump, then burst into laughter. "Huh?! I'm being serious! you have huge scars on your chest!" To Grian, it felt like a straight forward question. 

Majority of the other Hermits had scars from momentous occasions such as battles or explosions… Sometimes stupid redstone mishaps. Was it crazy to be a bit concerned? 

Though when he leaned closer, the scars looked to be done with great precision. The taller man practically folded in half, now beginning to wheeze. 

The hangout had lasted so long into the night, they couldn't tell if they were drunk off alcohol or sleep deprivation. Maybe it was both. Either way, every little thing made the two giggle and burst into laughter.

The avian's brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and sank into the couch, blood rushed to his face. His tail slowly began tapping against the couch. Eyes flickering down, he quickly grabbed hold of it. It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to read. 

“Hold on! Let me explain." Mumbo wiped away his tears, stifling back his laughter. A small sigh escapes his lips. Shifting his weight he started his lecture, he instinctually pressed the tips of his fingers together, tapping them in a rhythmic motion. He reminded Grian a bit of a wind up toy.

“I had gender reassignment surgery! Also known as top surgery.” 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Grian returned a confused look for a second. Cocking his head to think, his hair fell over his eyes. The taller man watched his face, Grian’s brows creasing. You could almost see the cogs turning in his head. Slowly, but surely, "Mumbo. Are you coming out as a Trans woman?"

Mumbo's hair stood on end. His lips spread into a thin line. "What?! Okay—you have to stop jumping to conclusions, mate." He laughed out, though his tone suggested he was serious.

"I'm a man! Transmasculine?" The man opened up his unbuttoned shirt slightly for a better look at his scars. "Oh! God, that makes more sense..” The wings cascading on the sides of the blonde’s face instinctively covered his eyes. “Sorry. I can be impulsive when I drink.." 

Neither of them had been paying attention to how many drinks were poured; the two were just having such a good time. Nights like these really did make everything worth it though, Grian thought to himself as he swirled his drink. If only he could experience this every night. The liquid swirled around the glass. "I mean, I guess I'm flattered that you thought I was born a man? This was made by yours truly!"  Mumbo made a vague gesture at himself, sitting tall, then took a bow, resulting in a chuckle—the exact reaction he was intending. "Well, I mean.. I got Doc to help me with the surgery part.. but the rest was me! Honest." He returned to playing with his fingertips. Silence dissipated through the room. Mumbo watching expectantly and Grian shuffling in awkwardness. "So like.. How did you know?" The words fell out of the bird's mouth a bit abruptly, making the other produce a small confused hum in response.

Grian leaned in with his arms now resting on his knees, attention fully now on his friend. The other’s posture straightened. "Hm? How did I know what?" It was a simple question, sure, but it was a loaded one. Mumbo had a habit of watching people's facial expressions, trying to predict how they were feeling. It worked majority of the time—he liked to think so anyways. Though with Grian it was an entirely different story. Mumbo could never quite place exactly where his head was at. He was always so hot and cold, yet it never drove him away. To him, Grian was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Like.. did you always know? That you were a man, I mean." The bird’s hands clenched, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

The taller man's eyes flicked down, shifting his tone slightly. “Well.. I personally found out pretty young– but that's not everyone's experience..”  His hands trailed off and started picking at his gloves, playing with the rim. His mouth opened to say something before a bell chimed through the room. Then, many more. "Goodness, is that really the hour? It's gotten late.." Mumbo turned to one of the many clocks that littered his living room wall. The ticking had become background noise underneath them talking and the waltz vinyl they had on. It wasn't the methodicalness of the clocks that he enjoyed, it was the inner workings. He absolutely loved to take them apart, see how they worked, and put them back together. They were all miniature redstone machines—to him, at least. 

Mumbo had clocks of all shapes and sizes: Some bought, homemade, digital, and some completely made out of wood. All of them pristine, All of them exactly on time. 2 O'clock AM.

It would have been a beautiful symphony of chimes and organs if it hadn’t interrupted the two.

Though, sadly, as all good things do, their time had come to an end. 

"We could always continue the conversation in the morning?" Mumbo offered, walking over to his record player. Carefully grabbing the vinyl and placing it in its case almost mindlessly.  Drifting through the room, he began to gather the glasses and other miscellaneous things to clean. "Oh! Yeah, sure." Grian managed to squeak out, his gaze a bit glossed over. Mumbo started to finish the last bit of the nightly routine. It was becoming more apparent by the second that the other had no intention of going home. No matter. Mumbo would simply gather some essentials for Grian. After cleaning the dishes, he collected blankets, unsure which type Grian would like. Drifting back into the living room he saw the other, stuck in his place. "Are you ready for bed, Grian? Do you need some extra clothes?" He asked aloud to get the bird’s attention, tossing a few of the blankets onto his forearm. "Bed?" The bird’s head snapped back to the other, "Oh. Am I sleeping out here?"

Mumbo's stammered. "Well, I mean, you could always sleep in my room?" he suggested. Silence filled the space, making Mumbo awkwardly shift in his shoes. Grian considered this for a moment. It seemed like the other was expecting him to sleep. Tonight would probably be hell, but the thought of staying at his friend's house was comforting at least. Slowly, he stood up and reached out, stretching his arms. "That doesn't sound half bad.." He purred softly, sliding on house slippers before walking over. Mumbo glanced over at the couch ‘Would that mean I sleep here then?’ 

His mind began to bubble and froth with thoughts, each new one zapping a synapse.  

‘Do I have to?’

Like a match, the thoughts ignited a fire inside of him, flicks of anxiety rising in his chest. It was a familiar feeling no doubt, but he had never been able to place it before. Did he want to sleep next to Grian?

Locked in place, his stomach tangled into knots. The feelings rushed to him so suddenly it almost made him nauseous. Maybe it was the alcohol making him feel this way. Slowly he managed to pry his shoes from the floor, leading the blonde back to his room. ‘My stars, what am I doing..?’

A small huff escaped his lips, once again trying to regain composure. Realistically, he shouldn't be so nervous about this. But before he knew it, they had made their way to his room. The space is what you would call an organized mess. The walls were plastered with papers, posters, and various things that he found interesting. Some with mechanical builds—presumably his favorites. 

Others were piled notes he collected from Hermits through the years, reminders and doodles strewn about. Shelves lined up the walls with trinkets and oddities. Everywhere you looked there was something interesting to stare at. 

"I have some extra clothes in my closet if you need any." Mumbo placed the blankets he was holding neatly onto the bed. Drifting over, he collected both him and Grian some clothing before the bird could protest.

"No, I'm fine..“ Grian’s voice tapered off, eyes fixating behind Mumbo. The latter had closed the door behind them.

“Wait. Are you sleeping in here too..?" The griffin raised a brow. 

Mumbo was shy about any form of intimacy, even between friends. Grian could barely give a hug to the mustached man before he would start squirming or fidgeting. 

"Is that ok? If not, I can go into the living room! I just," His voice trails off, trying to come up with some sort of excuse, but falls short, his voice trailing off into a pitiful whimper. His hands interlocked, playing with his fingers to quell his nerves.

None of this was planned. Originally he wasn't intending on sleeping next to him, but it had been so long since he slept next to another person—and the thought of it being Grian..

Sweat beads on his forehead. 'What if Grian says no?' 

'What if Grian hates me for suggesting something like this?' 

'God this was such a stupid, stupid idea.'

"No! No. You're fine." Grian quickly reassured, hesitantly admitting, "In all honesty, I kind of need the comfort right now.."

This wasn't something he would have normally said to anyone. No, normally he would bottle these emotions until you could see the cracks form. He decided to chalk it up to the fact he wasn't sober, and absolutely nothing else. Surely, he would have done this with any of his other friends. His mind called back to those lonesome nights with Scar. The desert was cold and unforgiving, and Scar’s embrace was warm and welcoming. 

Loneliness was normalcy—Grian almost forgetting what it had been like to make a connection with another human being. Though with Scar, it felt almost destined. The two clicked so easily, it made sense to cling onto him for comfort. Surely, this was no different.

Mumbo couldn’t help but agree with Grian’s statement, slumping over in relief as he handed over a baggy tee and some shorts. With his enigmatic virus he desperately needed the reassurance that if something were to happen... 

No—he shouldn't think that way—nothing would happen. He would figure it out as soon as he awakened in the morning. For now, he returned to his routine, scooting to his bathroom to allow Grian some privacy.

Walking to his sink he twisted the cap, steam hissing. Resting his arms against the rim, he cusped his hands together to collect the warm water. His mind started to flood. First the usual thoughts, things like what he would need to do in the morning, what should be prepared for breakfast.. Then, Grian. Curiously, his mind kept circling to Grian. 

The way his blonde hair curled and fell over his eyes. His soft jawline and facial hair. The way his wings curved around his hips.. God, he really shouldn't be thinking this about his friend, should he? He couldn't help but feel guilty—but no matter how hard he tried, he just kept rounding back to Grian. At this point he couldn't tell if he was hot from his thoughts or from the steam filling the room.

The way Grian's tail flicked around when he was lost in thought, or annoyed. The way that he would burst into laughter at any of Mumbo's silly little jokes. The way that every single season, there was something different about him.. He started to wonder: What else was new about Grian? What was he hiding behind that loose sweater of his? Mumbo's breath hitched—quickly turning off the tap and panting softly.

'What was that?! Why did I think that?!'

Staring at the mirror, his hands clenched onto his mouth as if to keep his thoughts to himself. He couldn't let the other know he was thinking something like this—especially if they were going to sleep together! Or next to each other? Whatever, to him it was equally intimidating.

In an admixture of nervousness and excitement, his chest began to tighten. Looking at the reflection, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of gold. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, inching closer.

"Mumbo?" A voice called out from behind.

The mustached man let out a small yelp. Quickly moving his hands from his mouth to his eyes. He had half expected the other to walk in indecently. Peeking through his fingers, he could see the other was in fact fully clothed in the same black tee and shorts he gave him.

"Jeez, you're jumpy today! You were in here for a while.. And you weren't answering.." His eyes started to look the taller man over. Mumbo’s face was pretty flushed from the steam in the room.

Grian’s eyes squinted. 

The man stammered, trying to regain his composure. "I'm fine! Just.." 

His voice trailed off, view sweeping over Grian. His clothes were a bit big for him, falling loosely on his figure.

 "Got lost in thought." He swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to fight the urge to hide his face, as if the other could see straight through him and his thoughts. "I'll be out in a moment, okay?" Forcing out a smile, clasping his hands together almost pleadingly—then crumpled once the other had left, resting his body over the sink for comfort.

These feelings needed to get under wrap if he was going to go back out there. Maybe returning to his routine would bring some normalcy? Starting to undress, he slid off his white button up, then reached down to unlace his girdle. After a shower, he would then slip into some nice red silk pajamas. Finally, one last look at his reflection.

'Get your feelings under control. When you wake up, you will figure it out.. Then everything will be fine.' He nodded at himself as if to agree with the thoughts. His heels twisted towards the door. He hesitantly grabbed onto the bathroom handle and opened the door. The only source of light emanated from behind, causing a sliver of light to cascade onto the floor. 

Steam slowly dissipated into the space, the cold prickling his skin. The silence was deafening. As he walked out he took a quick peek over at his bed. It seemed as though Grian had already made a claim to a spot, his chest rising and lowering softly. Mumbo stares. He could see that the other had arranged multiple blankets in a way that resembled a nest. Grian was tucked away, curled up. He must have fallen asleep while Mumbo was busy. 

‘Poor thing..’ 

With baited breath he snuck his way in— careful to not wake the other with the shift. Grabbing the covers, Mumbo leaned his weight onto the bed, sliding onto it. A small sigh of relief escaped him, body now fully relaxing onto the bed. He had almost forgotten how tiring it was just doing basic tasks now. Soon, he wouldn’t have to worry about that. The two were now laying inches apart. Fearing he would accidentally break the unsaid boundary between the two, he didn't dare move any closer. The distance felt like they were miles apart—but it looked like Mumbo was going to have to settle. Watching the other’s chest rise and fall, he felt his eyelids begin to fall heavy. His eyes slowly trailed down his body.

Grian’s tail was swaying back and forth unconsciously. Mumbo couldn’t help but feel a bit entranced by the movement. If Grian ever found out the word ‘cute’ were being used to describe him, he would probably slice them alive. Mumbo would keep this secret to the grave. 

Slowly but surely, sleep began to catch up with him. Every blink brought him closer. He thought to himself, ‘If only every night were like this’ 

Exhaustion caught up with him at last, falling asleep.

Wandering. 

No destination in mind—only motion.

He had found himself in a forest. The trees morphed into one another, forming different bigger and smaller trees. 

The air was thick. 

The path never stayed the same.

Despite this, he found himself perfectly calm. 

He was searching for something. 

A chime of small bells echoed throughout the greenwood—they sounded familiar. His mind kept calling back to all the various clocks on his living room wall. He thought maybe it was one of them. Maybe the sound would lead him back home.

Every turn took him deeper within the forest, each path winding into another. He was starting to feel disoriented. Not fully paying attention to what was ahead, his foot gets caught on a root. Falling forward, he braced for impact—instead, he fell into darkness. “You found me!” A soft giggle echoed through, bouncing off the walls. "Grian..?" Mumbo's view was fuzzy.

 He tried to blink it away. His view focused.

The space slowly came into view. He was now laying on his bed, and it was incredibly dark. The only light in the room radiating from the being.

The figure's expression softened, its eyes squinting as if it was smiling. "So you understand me then? You can see me?" Grian's voice rang from the foot of his bed. 

The creature moved gracefully. As it moved, a small ringing could be heard. Its form shimmered and shined like a star, and by god it was beautiful; The creature made everything around it seem light, his hair flowing and weaving softly like waves. There was no denying it was Grian. His voice, his attitude.. Who else could it be? It slowly began to climb onto his bed, its ethereal light following. 

The angel was sitting on top of him now, making his breath hitch. His hands twitched, instinctively trying to grab him, but he remained still. The creature slowly leaned closer. 

Was he in sleep paralysis? Every sensation felt so real. His heart began to race

The angel spoke again, repeating itself, "Can you see me?" Its head cocked to the side curiously, looking down at him. There seemed to be no concept of personal space for it.  Mumbo couldn't help but feel endeared by the creature, even if he was nervous. Hesitantly he answered, "I—yes? I can see you.." Mumbo managed to squeak out. Their noses were touching now. A small hum was released from it, leaning back and sitting back up. You could see right through the being’s torso.

"I knew you would," A giggle echoed from the star. "Of course you would.." Gingerly trailing off, its gaze never left the man, enhancing Mumbo's feelings even more.

For a moment, the angel's expression twinged. Mumbo couldn't quite place what it was exactly. Was it sadness? No—it was more of a look of determination. Its hand now trailing down to Mumbo's chest, its hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt. It pleaded softly,

"Promise to do me a favor,"

Mumbo's eyes widened. His lips tightening into a thin line as the star once again leaned closer, inches apart. Reaching its hand out, it gently cupped Mumbo's cheek. As it held him, it left small traces of a glitter like material on him. The star whispered, "I can help you.” Its tone suggested it was bargaining with him. 

“That potion you made.. It didn’t seem to work quite right. I could pull a few strings, you know..” A golden feather materialized before them—the angel reached out, grabbing hold and showing it off proudly. Examining a bit closer, it appeared to be a quill. It was almost hard to believe something so beautiful—so brilliant—would need to negotiate with something like him. Mumbo’s breath hitched, latching onto every word being spoken. Never had he felt so enamored by something’s presence. Mumbo swallowed the lump in his throat. “Anything.” He breathed out. Every word he spoke felt like molasses sticking on his tongue. Doing anything in this state was almost impossible. Despite this, the message seemed to get across. The other smiled in response. “Good.” The angel used its hand to leverage itself back up.

As it pressed down, the other began sinking through his bed. Letting out a yelp, his hands twitched and reached out for the being to grab hold. The darkness beneath him felt endless.

A smile was the only thing he received from the angel. 

“Remember your promise. ‘Til we meet again, my Starlight.” Mumbo could feel his body start to slip. He desperately reached for the angel, sinking into the abyss. The angel's light slipped further and further away from him—though his warmth remained. He basked in its light for as long as he could, feeling the sun on his skin.

Whatever it wanted, he would do everything in his power to do it. But until then, he would rest.

The warmth soon began to spread against his skin once again. Groggily, his eyes opened and focused on his now sunlit room. His fingertips grazed against his cheek. As his hand came into view, it was exactly as he expected. Yep. Clean. Definitely a dream. He must have been so desperate, he wanted something to save him. His hands rubbed the corners of his eyes, trying to rub the sleep and desperation off of them. He was starting to feel a bit hopeless. Mumbo opened his mouth to say something, yet as his body turned, he found there was an empty space. The blankets formed where Grian had slept. His brows furrowed. 

Did he do something wrong? Maybe it was too forward of him after all. Slumping his legs over his bed, he forced himself to stand up. It was hard to believe Grian wouldn’t have at least said goodbye to him.

‘Maybe something came up’, he hoped. Was it bad to hope something else happened? 

He manages to find his way to the bathroom, shuffling his feet on the cold tile floor. 

Sadly he would have to put his emotions behind him for the moment. For now, he would have to figure out what to do. Since the potion didn’t work, a new plan was desperately needed. It was either that or completely decipher an ancient language. Both tasks felt equally daunting. 

His hands began to work, grabbing the tap and twisting. A violent screech emitted from it, making the man flinch. What on Earth was that? The sound felt like nails on a chalkboard. ‘Did it come from the tap? No, surely not.’ He began to investigate. 

A squeak or two was not uncommon for the sink. He knew he had not been fair with it—not giving the proper love and attention it needed. The sink definitely was in desperate need of some oil. But still, it was unrealistic that the sound came from it and not something else. His brows furrowed.

Staring at his mirror in disbelief, he grabbed onto his face—touching his skin to make sure it was real—two bat ears sat on the sides of his face, replacing his usual human ones. Maybe he was still dreaming? Using his index finger and thumb he grabbed onto one of his ears, pinching it. 

“Ow!” Yep, definitely not dreaming.

His head twisted, looking at every detail. It seemed that overnight, his full head of hair changed, returning to his dark color—Alongside his facial features, no more eye bags, no more stress lines. Completely and utterly himself. 

Well, excluding the new bat ears. ‘Vampire bat ears?’ 

The gears in his mind began to turn, recalling a faint memory returning from the night before. That gold creature—it mentioned something. 

‘Didn’t it say the potion didn’t work? If that's the case, why do I look different?’ His brows furrowed, staring at his reflection. Peering into his mirror he turned to his cheek, using his index finger to pull back his lips. 

Was his mind playing tricks on him, or were his canines sharper? ‘Maybe it helped?.. Either that or somehow the magic was delayed..’ His hands still prodded his face, fearing that they somehow forgot him. Luckily for him, it seemed his appearance was here to stay. On the other hand there was now another issue—

He was now a vampire.