#grian||mfau

Mumbo let himself drop down further, spotting another one of Grian's dragon head additions to an End Ship. It seemed like his friend had made a lot of progress since he last visited; he was quite far out now. How long had it been, anyway? He made quick work of searching the city, with no Grain to be found.

When the next End City he encountered had a ship but no dragon-shaped figurehead, Mumbo popped out of the sky and onto its decks instantly. He wasn't sure if he'd gone in the right direction from the last city, but it was worth checking out.

He ventured belowdeck first, but didn't find anything out of the ordinary, and then made his way into the End City proper. He immediately spotted a Shulker eyeing him suspiciously, but it appeared to be uncharacteristicly docile. The room was void of tiny Ender Dragons, though, so he stepped out onto a purple walkway and yelled Grian's name. For a moment, there was nothing, and then a yell of, "Go away!" Rung below him.

A frown found its way onto Mumbo's face at that. He didn't even think about entertaining the demand, of course, following his friend’s voice through a couple of rooms.

He finally found Grian, curled into the corner of a room near the base of the city. His wings were held defensively around himself, like a barrier. There was a sleeping Shulker clutched to his chest, and Mumbo had to wonder how long Grian'd been there for the Shulkers to grow comfortable in his presence.

"I said go away," Grian mumbled.

"Is something wrong?"

Grian groaned, head dropping against the shell of the Shulker in his lap.

"I just- I just want to be alone, okay?" There was a twinge in his voice that told Mumbo his friend was lying. It was the same twinge he heard when Grian assured him that he hadn't pilfered any of his belongings at the end of all his visits. He sounded as if he was about to cry, or he already had, and Mumbo grew more concerned.

"Grian, seriously, what's wrong?"

His friend made a frustrated sound, and then lifted his head to glare at Mumbo. For the first time since he arrived, Mumbo could properly see Grian’s face. He’d definitely been crying. He was flushed a pale magenta and he had deep bags under his eyes.

“What-?” Mumbo began.

“Stop pretending to care!” Grian’s outburst caught Mumbo off guard. He took a step back, having to resist the instinct to remove himself from the situation with a teleport. Whatever expression he was making, probably a mixture of confusion and concern, only served to darken Grian’s glare. “Nothing to say, huh?” he mumbled, looking back down at the top of the Shulker in his lap. Mumbo noticed that it had woken up at some point, and was now glaring at him as well.

“I’m not pretending,” he defended. When Grian didn’t respond, Mumbo took a few steps towards him. “Did I do something to upset you? Please Grian, I don’t like seeing you upset!”

“Then go away,” Grian reiterated flatly, like all his energy had deflated. “You don’t have to see me ever. I doubt it’d make a difference. You barely see me anyway.”

“Grian-.” Mumbo cut himself off, forcing himself to properly digest what Grian had just said.

Time in the End was difficult - barely quantifiable. There was no day and night, and clocks simply ceased to function as soon as they arrived on the other side of an End portal. Mumbo wasn’t even sure time there was linear. What he did know was that it passed much slower than it did in the Overworld. What felt like hours in the End was mere seconds to those in the neighbouring dimension.

He hadn’t even been considering how long he was leaving Grian alone for. Months, surely, was a reasonable amount of time between visits. But how long had that been for Grian?

Though his friend never talked much about his time before meeting Mumbo, the Enderman knew it had been lonely for him. Mumbo had felt like an outsider around other Endermen, so he couldn’t imagine how Grian had felt wandering around alone for all those decades - centuries, even.

“God, Grian,” he mumbled, eyes wide. Grian glanced up, but didn’t speak. “H-how long has it been? Oh, I’m so sorry!” He made an aborted movement towards his friend. Grian’s wings twitched, a tell of the anxiety he was feeling. Mumbo backed off.

“It’s fine,” Grian told him forcefully. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Mumbo shook his head frantically. “It’s not! I’ve been a terrible friend! I didn’t even think!”

”Obviously you didn’t. With all that important Overworld stuff bouncing around in your dumb head.” Grain waved it off, looking away. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he added bitterly.

“Of course I think about you! You’re my best friend!”

Grian didn’t say anything, but his wings drew away from his body a little. Cautiously, Mumbo made his way towards the dragon. When Grian made no move to push him away, Mumbo crouched in front of him. He placed a hesitant hand on his friend’s leg.

“Grian?” The dragon stared at Mumbo’s hand for a few moments, before turning to look up at him. Mumbo pushed the Shulker off Grian’s lap, before drawing his friend into a tight hug. “Is this okay?”

He received a stiff nod against his shoulder, and then Grian began shivering. It took Mumbo a moment to realise he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Grian’s hair, and kept at it until his friend’s sobs started to die down.

“Stop it,” Grian said, accompanied by a halfhearted shove. “Stop apologising.”

“Never,” Mumbo declared, earning himself a wet, but genuine sounding, chuckle and another shove. They sat in silence after that, Mumbo gently rocking Grian until he felt his wings fall securely around him.

“Hey... I brought some shiny stuff for you to steal from me when I’m not looking,” Mumbo murmured. Grian snorted.