Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wasn't sure what he expected. Things to go back to normal? How could they when nothing was the same?

The most obvious being that Purple wasn't Gold. Of course, he wasn't expecting Purple to suddenly be like his son. Purple is Purple. Gold... was Gold. They had similarities, plenty of them really. But he had to admit that lately, all he could notice were the differences. It chafed. Purple wasn't around as much as King wanted them to be; which was to be expected. Purple was older and more independent; they'd spent a long time alone, this was their normal. But begging for them to stay put felt... well, manipulative. And more desperate than he wanted to be. He was supposed to be strong for them, not... needy.

Even ignoring Purple's differences, he was different. He felt like he was living in the ashes of a housefire. The wrath that had driven him for so long burned clean through him. The worst part was that deep down, he could still find embers and he wasn't sure he wanted to stomp them out. They had their uses, after all. Purple was very good at getting into trouble; what if he needed someone to defend him?

But he couldn't go back to normal without letting it burn out, right? This anger wasn't his normal. It wasn't who he used to be.

He was never going to be who he used to be. He hated that. He couldn't take it back. Couldn't pretend it never happened.

But some things were still the same.

He still liked his coffee black with far too much sugar. He still loved listening to music and painting. He still loved baking bread fresh instead of buying it from the store. These little things were familiar, the pieces that survived the inferno.

He missed his son. That was going to be part of the new normal.

He was going to hug Purple too tightly. That was going to be part of the new normal.

He was going to keep moving forward, a day at a time. That was going to be part of the new normal.

He was going to have nightmares. That was a part of the new normal.

The ember was going to stay. It wasn't as easy to snuff as he thought. That was a part of the new normal.

The new normal didn't look the same as the old normal. But, of course, it didn't. They weren't the same. Some parts were missing and some parts were new. But all of it was normal.

Chapter Text

He’d not realized how far away the children’s nether portal was from his own. The journey started in exhausted silence and soon gave way to complaints from his young travelling companion.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” King winced at how harsh it sounded. The truth was King needed Purple to come because the child was the only thing keeping him moving forward instead of down. But that was something that couldn’t be said aloud.

“I want to! I just wish it was easier, that’s all,” Purple’s assertion faded into a mutter and King could see the boy start to pull into himself.

“Don’t we all?” King sighed, placing a hand on Purple’s shoulder before pressing on, the silence returning with a new bit of tension from words unspoken.

As they neared the bastion King came to the realization that the last leg of this journey was about to become much harder. Without his staff, or Purple’s elytra reaching the portal was going to be quite the climb.

He paused a moment, calculating the most efficient way up without supplies, or if it was even possible to do it without them.

Purple took this opportunity to sit down and rub his feet, “How can you keep going like this? I thought old people were supposed to be tired all the time?”

“I can’t stop. If I did I would never be able to get going again. I’ll stop when it’s over,” But King knew it would never be over, “and I am tired all the time.”

No doubt he looked it, with his wild tangled hair and dark bags and tattered clothes. He could feel the growing ache in his joints but started to climb. Purple groaned but followed obediently.

They were making good progress; King could even see the portal in the distance without having to squint too much. He heard Purple make a slight noise of anticipation as the child clearly noticed it too.

And then Purple took off running ahead, before leaping into the air and plummeting straight down.

Fortunately, King caught on to what was about to happen and was right behind Purple, grabbing onto their ankle with one hand and the ledge with the other.

He felt the pain he’d been ignoring screaming as he pulled Purple back up before crawling up himself.

King almost tore into the boy for his recklessness but Purple was already doing an excellent job without King’s help, “Stupid! Stupid! You know you don’t have your elytra! Why else would we be walking, dipstick!?”

King felt his heart twist; whoever taught Purple to think like that would have hell to pay if King ever found them.

He stood - his body’s protests once again being ignored - and offered his hand to help Purple up, “You made a mistake. We are both tired and not thinking straight.”

Purple nodded and mumbled, “I’m pretty sure I’m never thinking straight.”

That earned a bark of laughter from King and they pressed on.

When they finally reached the portal Purple once again charged ahead and by the time King caught up they had already collapsed into the Minecraft bed that had been part of the parkour trap’s testing phase.

This meant the only available bed was his own, and if wanted to reach it he was going to have to climb the ladder.

He stood in front of it for a long time - and may actually have fallen asleep leaning on it briefly - before reaching up with shaking hands to grasp the first rung and beginning his very stiff, slow ascent.

As soon as he reached the top he splayed out on the floor and was so tempted to just stop there. Every muscle was pleading for him to, but he was so close.

With something between a wheeze and a groan - and a very ominous crack from his back - he got to his feet once again. He paused for a moment to look out the curtainless window and admired the sunset before making the last few steps to his bed.

He woke with a muffled scream - he didn’t remember the nightmare but he could take a few guesses as to what it may have contained. But it didn't really matter, did it?

It was still dark, if he had to guess it was probably very early morning, around four or five. He still ached but it was bearable again, which meant it was time to make breakfast.

He opened his fridge and winced at how barren it was. A few eggs, probably rotten by now, a third of a carton of definitely expired milk, and a bit of salted butter that he wasn’t confident about either. At least the bottle of jam still seemed fine.

The freezer had nothing but microwave dinners, something quick and easy to prep and eat while he worked.

And he was out of coffee and sugar.

Fortunately, there was a 24-hour convenience store within walking distance - a great place to pick up supplies when you’ve lost track of time working on…

He stared at the living room wall before bringing his arm across the chalk drawing he’d drawn and redrawn over the years. He smudged it but he could still clearly make out the reinforced art. It wouldn’t be so easy to wipe away.

He grabbed one of the papers off the wall, flipped it over, and wrote on the back ‘Gone grocery shopping, be back soon, stay out of trouble - King’ and stuck it to the bottom of the trap door.

A sudden fear gripped him; what if Purple left while he’d been sleeping? He almost dropped down the ladder to make sure Purple was still there but he reined that impulse in before letting it give way to full-blown panic. Why would Purple have come all this way only to leave?

No. He was going to grab his grocery bag and go. And that’s just what he did.

The walk to the store was chilly and quiet save for the occasional predawn birdsong and other than the aches it was pleasant.

The automatic door slid open and the cashier greeted him, and King glanced back at her in recognition.

The cashier, Aqua, was Gold’s best friend growing up and Aqua’s parents were convinced that the two of them would get married someday. King was never convinced of that.

She’d wanted to go to university in the city, what was she still doing here?

He approached the counter with his armload of basics - he was thinking of making French toast - and Aqua - whose eyes had definitely been on him the whole time he’d been going through the store - gave him a concerned look as she rang him through.

She clearly debated with herself before asking, “Mr. King… Are... you... alright?”

“…I’m getting there.”

Chapter Text

King surveyed the carnage below him, staff in hand. The modified Virabots they had made were bringing ruin to the game that plagued his nightmares for so long. His son’s memory would soon be avenged.

The gaggle of teens that thought they could stand against him were overwhelmed by sheer numbers and soon they too would succumb to the onslaught.

From beside him, he could hear the wild laughter of his partner-in-crime, without whom this wouldn’t have been possible: The Dark Lord.

He’d never been so glad he’d gone to investigate what had been going on by the bay that day instead of just shrugging it off and returning to work on his project.

After seeing the destructive power of the Dark Lord’s armbands he knew he had to find where the stick’s corpse had landed and take them for himself. They would be an invaluable asset to have.

But what he found in the crater was not a corpse, though chances were without assistance he soon would’ve been.

King would tell himself that he saved the Dark Lord because he saw the use of his Virabots and wanted to make use of them for his plans. But inside he knew the truth… he was lonely.

The Dark Lord eagerly helped with King’s plans, the two designed the Netherite Virabots together. When the Dark Lord’s legs never quite recovered, King made the stick bracers based on the design of his staff. The two of them made an excellent team.

And now, here they were, together on the cusp of victory and King threw back his head and joined the Dark Lord in his laughter.

The Dark Lord paused in his laughter to watch his King in the throes of euphoria before drifting next to him and planting a soft kiss on his cheek, which took the King by surprise and the Dark Lord laughed at his startled expression, “Just think, my King, today Minecraft, tomorrow the entire Netscape.”

“The entire…” That thought drew King up short. He didn’t want to destroy the whole Net, just Minecraft. Sure, he’d fought the children but they had insisted on getting in his way repeatedly. But the Net was full of innocent sticks…

“Dark Lord I-“ wait was that a musical cue?

———

Blue looked up from the scene he’d set with the toys in hand to his doorway where the whole crew had gathered to watch the show.

Blue felt the flush of his cheeks as he dropped the dolls which elicited a whine from Red, “No, don’t stop! I wanna know what happens next! Does King manage to convince Dark Lord to be less evil?”

“I figured it would be the other way around, and the Dark Lord would convince King to give up what few morals he had left,” Yellow commented from her spot in the door.

“Oh, uh, actually I was thinking-”

“Don’t tell us, Blue, show us,” Second Coming encouraged.

Blue, still feeling a bit of heat on his cheeks as he picked the dolls back up, “Uh yeah, sure, where was I?”

“Dark Lord I…”

Chapter Text

It was noisy here, with so many other souls. Or, well, parts of souls. Most weren’t as complete as him anyway. Not really capable of thought or awareness just a thought or two about their last moments.

The majority were angry, lamenting about the injustice of it all. Some were disappointed, in themselves or someone else. Some just cried and others just laughed. He’d done all of that.

It was lonely, existing like this. For as much as he counted as existing.

But at least he could still see the world from his place here, sometimes he even felt the ghost -haha- of a sensation from their host.

On occasion, they might even talk, though conversations weren’t usually very long. Usually, it was Herobrine telling him to be quiet when he reacted strongly to a particular shade of orange.

He missed his dad.

He could still see him, the panicked desperation in his eyes as he pounded on the glass separating them. Gold still had his father’s screams ringing in his mind, he could hear them over the rush of the void closing in.

He could also remember the good times though. His father’s proud face as he took Gold’s report card and hung it on the fridge. His father sleepily smiled down at him as he made him scrambled eggs. Their playful days at the park. The fun they’d had at the festival… before it all went wrong.

His dad was the best dad ever, even his friends had thought so.

This was why when he saw that shade of orange and it actually was his dad, he almost refused to recognize him.

A crown on his head and a cape on his shoulders. His father’s long hair, which was usually pulled back in a neat ponytail, but now it hung wild and tangled. His eyes were sunken and dark, with something in them that Gold didn’t recognize.

And Gold had never seen that expression on his father’s face before either. But he knew it scared him. What had he become?

“A threat to all of Minecraft.” Herobrine’s voice echoed around him.

“Maybe we could talk! Maybe I could-!”

“He would not recognize you. The time for talking has long since passed.”

The fight was brutal, and Gold wasn’t sure who to root for. On one hand, that was his dad, on the other was the destruction of an entire world full of innocent creatures.

Gold had seen the life of the monsters through the school, he knew they were living, thinking creatures. Why was his father doing this? He’d said to respect life in any form once…

And suddenly the tables were turned, and Gold felt a flash of Herobrine’s fear before suddenly there was another stick in here. The red one from before-last time the red one was too deep in the throng, but this time Gold could reach them.

“Hey! Hi, hello!” Gold called, waving desperately, hoping that the red one would notice him. Which they did and they drifted closer, waving back.

Gold took a quick glance at the fight, there probably wasn’t much time, “Okay, real fast! Hi, my name is Gold! The man you’re fighting is my Dad! I don’t know what happened to him, but you have to stop him! But please don’t-!”

The internal world shook and the red stick vanished. Gold stared out of Herobrine’s intense gaze, begging for a moment of recognition that never came.

The void beckoned.

Chapter Text

It was still dark when he woke, just the way he preferred it. Gave him time to drink coffee and get a little extra work done in the early hours.

Not that he didn’t love his son, but he treasured having these early mornings to himself. He pulled the curtains open to keep an eye on the time.

He set the coffee to brew and put last night’s dishes away. He got out one work folder and began doing his calculations only stopping to pour himself a cup of coffee that was honestly much closer to “half a cup of sugar, sprinkled with a little bit of coffee.” At least that was how Finley had always described it.

He finished up just in time to watch the rose-coloured fingers of dawn reach across the sky. Time to get started on breakfast.

He pulled out the large frying pan and got out four eggs… was this going to be a French toast morning or just regular eggs?

After a moment of debate, he settled on French toast. Besides, the bread he’d baked yesterday was perfect for it.

He carved off a few slices from the loaf, the crust was perfect. He’d really gotten quite good at this whole baking thing, maybe he should pursue that daydream of his own bakery. At any rate, he was never going back to store-bought again.

He cracked the eggs in a shallow dish, tossing the empty shells in the compost. He added his secret blend for the best French toast to the eggs and gave it a mix before setting the bread to soak.

He washed his hands, plopped a pat of butter in the frying pan, and started heating it up, and soon enough it was time to add the eggy bread.

If King knew anything it was that by the time the second slice of toast was done, Gold was going to come around the corner into the kitchen.

On cue, the boy arrived, dressed and ready to take on the day, “Good morning, my sunshine boy.”

“Morning dad. You know I’m old enough I can make my own breakfast, right?”

“You can make your own breakfast when you can manage to wake up early enough.”

“Aqua and I were up late talking on the phone about how many kids we’re gonna have.”

“Oh? Did you reach a decision?”

“Not yet, still trying to coax her up to half a dozen.”

“Good luck with that - don’t expect me to be their babysitter though, this house has a strict three-children-only policy, you know.”

Gold stuck out his tongue and they both laughed, “If you really do want to help, you can get out the syrup and honey. And grab the grapes and apples from the fridge, I’m going to make fruit salad.”

“I can make the fruit salad, it’s just cutting stuff up, right?”

“…I suppose, if you want.”

“Woo, independence!”

King hovered around the kitchen nervously, watching the teen with the knives closely but he didn’t need to worry. Gold had this handled and soon enough there were two bowls of fruit salad to go with their French toast.

The table was set and the two dug in, the kitchen filled with the clinking of cutlery and dishes. They talked about a new movie coming out that Gold was going to go see with his friends. Something about superheroes? King never could keep track of what was popular these days. Soon enough it was time for Gold to head out the door, backpack in hand.

“See you after school! Have a great day!”

“You too, dad! Love you!”

“Love you too!”

And with his son off to school, he had just enough time to get the dishes done and get dressed before heading to work.

——

The sun shone, burning red in his eyelids and forcing him awake. He peeled his face off the book he’d been reading. He’d fallen asleep at his desk. Again.

With a sigh, he stood up and heard his knees, neck, and spine all crack. It hurt, but not as much as he expected. Maybe he was starting to get used to it.

He trundled to the kitchen and swung open the fridge door, rattling the half-empty bottles he really should have thrown out by now. He peered inside and scowled, his bowl of boiled eggs was empty and that meant he’d have to make more.

With a frustrated huff, he pulled out the egg carton and set it on the counter so he could fill the pot with more water for boiling and set up the coffee to brew.

He set the last of his eggs inside the pot and tossed the carton into the growing pile of cartons he really should get around to throwing out.

He just stared down into it for far too long before turning his attention to the writing on his wall. He was pretty sure he’d been on to something last night.

He was still scribbling equations when he heard the water hiss against the stovetop and it still took him a number or two to register what that was. The eggs were boiled over.

He stomped back to the stove and turned it off before filling a bowl with cold water and started pulling out and dropping the eggs into it with his bare hands - the burns didn’t feel too bad, honestly.

His coffee was also ready, and he dumped his sugar into his mug clumsily, still way too much of it for any sane man. But there was really nothing sane about him, was there?

He took his coffee into his workspace - he’d peel the eggs later. He had work to do.

——

He woke with a jolt in the dark, heart still pounding hand still reflexively grasping at the sheets. He wiped his face from the tears he knew were there.

He stood and moved to the kitchen - it wasn’t like he was going to get back to sleep anyway.

He smiled a little as he looked at the empty dish rack; Purple must’ve put the dishes away last night before they’d gone to bed.

But that left him with not a whole lot to do but stare out the window and let himself cry. He had quite the backlog of tears, after all.

And he could not cry forever. He had to move forward. He had a lot of time on his hands this morning, what was he going to do with it?

He looked in the cupboards, freshly supplied with everything they used to have before. His eyes settled on the bag of flour Purple had bought when he’d off-handedly mentioned that he used to bake bread and nodded to himself.

He was going to bake bread for Purple. They deserved it; they’d been so good to him when he didn’t deserve it.

No, no negative self-talk, he’s just going to do it.

He made sure he had everything he needed - kneaded, get it, Dad?

He hadn’t made bread in a long time, not since before…

More crying. More coffee.

He had to focus. He measured everything out and got started mixing it together. Waiting for it to rise gave him time to think and cry some more.

But giving himself that time to cry was good. It gave him the ability to focus when it came time to knead the dough. When it came to setting the oven temperature. When it came to moving forward.

And soon the house was filled with the scent of baking bread, and it smelled as good as King remembered.

It also woke Purple as he came stumbling out of the guest room - that was really just Purple’s room at this point and Purple was no longer just a guest here, after all. He was family.

“Smells really good, Baba,” Purple remarked as they sat down at the table. They didn’t comment on the dried tear tracks on King’s cheeks. They knew better at this point and honestly, letting him grieve was good for him.

“Well, hopefully, it tastes as good as it smells. It’s been a while since I’ve done any baking.”

“I’m sure it will,” Purple reassured, sitting down at the table across from King. The pair sat in silence for a moment before King stood up and grabbed a wire rack to set the bread on, along with his bread carving knife and the butter dish, just in time for the oven to ding.

With his oven mitts on he pulled the perfectly golden loaf out and set it on the wire rack to cool for a moment, “What do you want on your slice, Purple?”

“Just butter is fine.”

“Alright then, but we do have honey or jam if-”

“ I know, I was with you when we went shopping, Baba.”

“…Alright then.”

King smiled, trying to make it clear he wasn’t upset, despite the tone he’d used there.

He carved the heel off of the loaf and set it on a plate for himself. The heels were always his favourite parts and then he carved another slice off for Purple.

He buttered them both and brought them to the table. Purple took a big bite as soon as it was in front of him, “Oh, this is so much better than Minecraft bread!”

“Is it? I’ve never had Minecraft bread before,” King arched an eyebrow before biting into his own slice. Yep, he could still make great bread. Good. “So, what are you up to today?”

“Green invited me over to the PC, just to hang out for a bit,” Purple shrugged, “Apparently their creator got a new game and he thinks I’m going to like it.”

“He’s probably right, he knows you pretty well. Just… be careful, please?”

“Of course.”

“Y’know, why don’t you bring the rest of this loaf with you? I know those other sticks really don’t have much experience with food that doesn’t come from video games. They’d probably really enjoy it. I can always bake more while you’re out,” He owed those kids a lot too, after all.

“That’s a great idea! Thanks, Baba!” Purple gave King a quick hug that the stick hadn’t expected before getting up to pack up the bread and head out.

“Have a good day with your friends! See you when you get home, have a great day.”

“You too. Enjoy baking bread!”

“I will.”

Chapter Text

King woke to the smell of something burnt. Not the best way to start a birthday, but still definitely not the worst way he'd ever started it. But that was almost another lifetime ago, or at least it felt like it.

He slid out of bed, making sure his feet thumped audibly against the floor, and immediately heard, "NO! DON'T GET OUT OF BED YET! STAY PUT!"

King rolled his eyes and tucked his feet back under the covers. He settled back in bed, listening to his son scrambling in the kitchen for a few more minutes before finally appearing at his bedroom door, breakfast tray in hand and a bright smile on his face, "Happy Birthday, Dad!"

"Thank you, Gold," King looked down at the tray that had been set upon his lap. There was toast and two hard-boiled eggs, "So, what did you burn, and how bad was it?"

"Uh... the pancakes, but-but-but it's already cleaned up, which is good because we've got a big day ahead of us! After you finish breakfast we're gonna go to the park and fly a kite-"

"Aren't you a little old for that?" King asked between mouthfuls of egg.

Gold just shrugged, "Maybe, but I know you like to fly kites and it's your birthday. Moving on! After we get bored of that we're gonna take the train to the city, stop at Merlot & Lime's for lunch-"

"And where are you getting the money for that?"

"Don't you worry about that, I promise it's legal, that's all that matters. Anyway, after lunch, we're going to go to that used bookstore you like and you can pick out a book or two, then we're gonna check out the space exhibit at the museum and then supper at Coal's, then it's back home for cake - courtesy of Aqua, by the way - and presents. Sounds good right?"

"Sounds great, Gold, I'm impressed you planned this all yourself."

"Well, some of your planning skills had to rub off eventually," Gold grinned, collecting the dirty dishes, "Now, I'm going to wash these while you shower and get dressed and then we'll be off!"

And with that Gold practically skipped out of the room.

How did he get so lucky?

----

He hadn't even realized it was his birthday until he looked at the date on his phone after taking that call with Sky.

... It didn't really matter, the day was almost over.

Maybe he'd heat up one of the microwave dinners that had a dessert to celebrate. Gold... wouldn't like the idea that he'd done nothing special.

----

"Good morning, Baba!" King jerked awake at Purple's cheery voice, honestly grateful for the wake-up call, "Happy Birthday!"

King blinked at him in confusion, "...How do you know when my birthday is? I don't think I ever told you?"

"Oh, I have my ways..." Purple smirked, coming in with a tray to place upon King's lap, a fruit, yogurt, and granola parfait, and two blueberry pancakes with honey.

"After you're done eating, you need to get washed up and dressed up nice, we're heading to the city for lunch and a matinee concert, and then back here for a party later."

"A party?" King tried to keep the trepidation out of his voice, but he was sure Purple picked up on it based on the reassuring smile.

"It's just the Colour Crew, don't worry. Oh, and Aqua! She made the cake, said she knew what you liked and not to worry about it," Purple patted the big stick's knee, taking the dirty dishes, "Now, I'm going to wash these while you shower and get dressed and then we'll be off!"

And with that Purple trotted out of the room, clearly quite pleased with himself.

How did he get so lucky?

Chapter Text

“Hey Dad, I know it’s a little late, but I’m getting on the train now so I’ll be home soon. Anyway me n’ Aqua-”

Distantly a girl’s voice piped up, with a chuckle, “Aqua and I.”

“Whateverrr, Aqua and I then! Aqua and I saw a flyer for a cultural festival here in the city next weekend; there’s supposed to be concerts and food and other fun stuff. Aqua’s gonna be busy but I thought you and I could go, just the two of us. Think about it? See you in about 20 minutes, if you’re even still up. Love you, Dad!”

Beep.

“To erase this message, press 1, to save it in the archives, press 7.”

Boop.

“This message will be saved for 7 days. Here’s your main menu. You have no new messages. If you would like to-”

He never should have said yes. Now this and his untouched room were all he had of his boy’s shining life.

Not even a body to lay to rest in the earth. An empty grave.

Tears burn away to the fires of wrath at the injustice of it all. How could he believe there was any good in a world that would take away his son?

And if there wasn’t any good in that world, why should it exist?

——

King sat on the fence in front of the old park, explaining everything to Purple, about his son and about that day at the fair when the thought occurred to him.

They had been in the Nether far longer than 7 days, hadn’t they?

Panic gripped his heart and mind, hands shaking and eyes already burning with tears. He stopped mid-sentence to pull out his phone, his breath hitched as he called his voicemail box, “Welcome to your voicemail. You have no new messages and 1 saved message, to hear this message press 1-1, to-”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as he played the message back again to save it for another week, and only once he’d heard it save did the rest of the world come back.

Purple was staring at him, his expression hard to read and King started to explain when Purple held up his hand and pulled out his own phone, “It’s okay, I have a message from my mom too. But I took it off the archive and just keep the recording on my phone now.”

“You can do that?” King was honestly amazed at the myriad of skills the young stick had. Was there anything Purple couldn’t do?

“Yep. I’ll show you how when we get home. Right now, though you are in the middle of an explanation I am very much owed.”

“Right, yes, of course…”

Chapter Text

It was grey and windy the day they buried her. There wasn’t really a funeral, Purple couldn’t really afford it. But at least he could afford her a place in the ground. A place to be mourned. A place to bring flowers to.

There weren’t really a lot of people there, a few other mourners at other graves but it was really only him, one of his mother’s nurses, and the grave digger. Hiring a priest for this would have been silly - his mom had never been religious.

He half expected his father to turn up, maybe they could catch up and talk. Maybe he would have somewhere to go that wasn’t the old dingy, hauntingly empty apartment.

But no, the stick didn’t show his face. Maybe he lived too far away to get the paper Purple published the obituary in. Maybe he just didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t read the newspaper at all, though Purple could have sworn he had faint memories of sitting on his father’s knee while he’d read the paper.

The wind blew petals off the trees and bushes, they were everywhere. His mom would have thought this was a lovely day to be buried.

A hand touched his shoulder. Oh right, he wasn’t completely alone. His mother’s nurse from her hospital stay was here and she had something to say.

But try as he might to focus on what wisdom, or sympathies or whatever they were saying it just sounded so muffled to him, like they were trying to talk to him underwater (which made sense because he felt like he was drowning) so he just nodded, “Thanks for coming.”

They offered him a wet smile and patted his arm again as the last of the dirt was laid on top of her. Then they left along with the grave digger. He was alone.

——

Gold’s funeral was sunny and packed. The whole town turned out just to say goodbye. And gossip about it.

How strange. How tragic.

The coffin’s empty. There’s no body to bury.

But the grave, which was originally going to be King’s own grave, is next to Gold’s mother’s.

There are speeches. The neighbours speak fondly of his bright, shining boy and the mischief he used to get into. The people he helped. Good as gold, that one. Gone too soon.

But King isn’t there, with everyone mourning as they pat his hand or his back. He faintly mumbled, “Thank you for coming.”

He’s still back there, with the alarms blaring, a pane of glass between him and his son. If the glass would just break he could reach out and touch him. Reach out and save him.

But the glass won’t break and his son is gone.

And so is everyone else. It’s dark and he’s still standing there. Alone.

Chapter Text

The first thing King noticed was how bright it was in his room. He jerked awake and practically bolted out of bed - he had to make breakfast for -

Gold, who was already sitting at the desk in the living room, haloed in the light of dawn coming in the window with the missing curtains, “Morning, Dad! Good thing it’s Sunday, huh? I made you coffee.”

Gold held out a blue mug with a yellow bird on it, with something written in illegible cursive, the coffee inside steaming.

“Oh, right, it’s Sunday,” King nodded, feeling a little off balance, as he took the mug and took a sip. It tasted like nothing but it was so nice of Gold to bother that he didn’t care, “Thank you, Gold. Now, what would you like for breakfast?”

“Eggs and potatoes, you know your fancy skillet thing?” Gold smiled, or at least King thought he did, the light was bright and it was hard to see his son’s features.

“Sounds good, I’ll get right on that.” King nodded again, turning to head to the kitchen before stopping sharply before he turned the corner.

He had figured out what was wrong.

“You aren’t really here.” King turned back to Gold, who was still seated at the desk, face still impossible to make out, “You’re dead.”

The light behind Gold dimmed and the boy hung his head, “Yeah, but can’t we just pretend for a minute?”

King fell to his knees and suddenly his head was in his son’s lap. King looked up and still couldn’t make out Gold’s face. It was too bright and his eyes were filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Gold said and King whispered at the same time, as the howling roar of the vacuum came in and pulled them both into the dark.

——

King jerked awake, face wet, chest heaving for breath. There was only the faint glow of predawn out the window.

A dream. Honestly, it was almost a nice one.

He stood on still shaky legs and made his way to the kitchen to make his coffee-that actually tasted like something this time-and ground himself before Purple woke up.

Chapter Text

King scrunched his face up as he felt the light hit it, rolling over to waking. But then the soft whine that followed had his eyes shooting open.

Gold was standing at his bedroom door, clutching his blanket. Now that King was awake, he could smell it before Gold even said it, “I threw up.”

King looked at the clock; he’d only been asleep for two hours. Oh well, time to get moving now.

First order of business, stripping Gold’s bed and pyjamas and putting them in the wash and cleaning Gold’s floor while convincing the feverish Gold to rest on the couch.

Once that was cleaned up, it was time to take his son’s temperature. Gold whined about it, curling away from the thermometer, “Come on now, under your tongue, there you go sunshine.”

Well, that was definitely high, but not dangerously so. Not rush him to the hospital high. King shuffled his way to the medicine cabinet and pulled out the fever suppressant and something to settle Gold’s stomach.

He read and double-checked both bottles before measuring out the doses, two tablets and a glass of water.

“Here you go, yes both of them, no not at the same time if you don’t want to, down the hatch,” King steadied Gold’s shaking hand and helped him tilt the glass to his lips.

“There we go, good job,” King soothed, settling Gold back onto the couch, “Try and get some more rest, alright?”

And he could hear the washer come to a stop, so off he went to move the laundry along while his son slipped in and out of fevered dreams.

At least it was first thing in the morning and not midday, making calls and getting the day off wouldn’t be too much of a hassle. Of course, he’d do what he could at home, so the day wouldn’t be a total waste.

Not that taking care of his sick son was a wasted day.

He still hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet. At least that explained the growing headache.

By the time the sun was up, Gold’s bedding was dry and King remade the bed and scooped up the now deeply asleep child - who was soon to be too big to pick up - and tucked him in.

King placed a bucket next to the bed and a glass of water on the nightstand, just in case.

Gold slept most of the morning, crawling out of bed to sit at the kitchen table, “‘M hungry and out of water.”

“Okay, well, I want to check your temperature again, but you’re looking a lot better than earlier,” King got the thermometer again, and Gold was a lot better about taking it this time.

Definitely going down, but still a little warm, “How’s your stomach doing? You said you were hungry, how about some toast and a banana?”

Gold nodded and King went to work toasting up two slices of bread and cutting up a banana, “Don’t force yourself to eat it all.”

He managed to finish one slice of toast and a few bites of banana, to which King nodded in approval before giving Gold another dose of medicine and sending him back to bed.

King ate the remaining toast and banana and considered that his lunch.

When King went to check up on Gold later, he found his son sitting up in bed, playing one of his video games, eyes bright and alert, “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“A lot,” Gold nodded as King laid a hand on his forehead. He no longer felt feverish, that was good.

“How does supper sound, nothing big, maybe some fried rice?”

“Sounds good!”

“Good,” King let out a breath and felt himself finally start to relax from where he’d been tense all day.

——

King arched an eyebrow as Purple marched from his room, bedding in arms, to the laundry room, “Purple?”

“Just a minute,” Came the all too quiet response; once the washer was going Purple joined him in the kitchen, “Sorry, I was just a little bit sick this morning, don’t worry I’ve got it cleaned up-”

“Have you checked your temperature yet?” King chided, already getting up to fetch the thermometer from the cupboard.

“C’mon Baba, do I have to? It’s just a normal stomach bug…”

“Humour me, please?” With a whine, Purple stuck the thermometer under his tongue.

“Okay, so it’s a little high, but it’s not dangerous ‘Rush me to the hospital’ high. Don’t worry about it Baba, I’ve got this. I’ve been sick like this before, I know how to take care of myself,” Purple reassured, swaying as he stood up on trembling legs.

“Okay. I’ll try, but worried is one of my default states these days. I do have some medicine if you would like to take some.”

“I… yeah, think I would. Up in the medicine cupboard, yeah?” Purple asked swinging the cupboard door open.

“Let me get that for you, I think you’re too short to reach,” King reached up and grabbed the two bottles of medicine.

“You’ve got to stop being so tall.”

“Unfortunately, it’s a curse I must bear for the rest of my life.”

Purple measured out the pills, swallowing them dry and making King cringe, “You should probably have some water.”

“Once the medicine starts kicking in and I’m sure it’ll stay down,” Purple nodded, moving to go back to the laundry room since the washer stopped.

“I’ve got it, you go lay down in my bed for now and get some more rest.”

“But-”

“Purple, go rest. Please.”

“Fine, but only because you said please.”

—

King hadn’t really been in Purple’s room before, he wasn’t expecting it to be so sparse as he made the teen’s bed. A few purple things and a cherry blossom bonsai, no books or anything.

He’d have to get Purple some more things to help make his room more homey.

And now that the bed was made he scooped up Purple - who was definitely too big for him to carry like that - and tucked him in with a bucket and a glass of water for the bedside.

Purple woke up not too long afterwards and headed to the kitchen, “Making some toast and applesauce, if you want some.”

“No thanks, do you want any help?”

“I got it, thanks,” Purple’s tone was a little snippy, but he caught himself pretty quick, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, you’re not feeling well.”

“I am not,” Purple agreed, munching on his single piece of toast, “Gonna take some more medicine and head back to bed to ride this out.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Chapter Text

“I thought you hated that guy, wasn’t he your least favourite character?” King asked, watching over his son’s shoulder.

“Yeah, like three movies ago, he made up with his brother. He’s a cool anti-hero now.”

“Okay,” He’d have to remember that next time he was getting gifts.

—

“This one is your favourite, right?” King asked, holding the plush up to Gold who shrugged.

“I guess, I kinda like this one better now, it’s from the newest generation,” The boy handed King a different plush and King stared into its beaded eyes, committing its face to memory.

—

“I didn’t think you liked this sort of music,” King remarked, scrunching up his face. Cursors knew he sure didn’t.

“Yeah, I normally don’t, but I don’t know, I really like how this artist does it, y’know?”

“I don’t, but that’s okay,” King shrugged, “We’re allowed to like different things.”

———

“Oh, Purple! It’s that guy you like, right? From that show?”

“Huh?” Purple looked at the screen, before shaking his head, “I don’t watch superhero stuff.”

“Oh, but I-” As soon as he realized his mistake he buried his head in his hands, “I’m sorry. I was thinking of him.”

“It’s okay, Baba, I already know you’re going senile,” Purple teased, nudging the taller stick with his shoulder, but it didn’t stop King’s tears in the slightest, “Seriously, don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s fine.”

“I’m not,” Which was only half-true, “I’m thinking about how excited he would be to know his show got another season and how I wish he were here to see it.”

Purple took a deep breath and just rubbed King’s back. His being sad about it was better than him being angry about it, “Aw, Baba. You want to go home?”

“No, we came out here to pick out some new furniture and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Alright then, to the armchair section!”

Chapter Text

He stared out the window, peering into the dark. He thought maybe he heard Purple moving and wondered if the boy had woken up, or if he’d just never fallen asleep.

Should he go nag him to get some rest? It felt hypocritical, since he wasn’t planning on going back to bed himself. Even though he really should.

But it never seemed to matter, how little or how much sleep he got. He never stopped being exhausted.

Ashes.

Was this going to be his life from now on?

Why would anyone want to stay? Why would Purple want to be here? To put up with this?

He stood, pulling on his housecoat. Time to find out what was keeping Purple up, or woke him. That was why Purple stayed. Because King cared.

——

“You push yourself too hard.” A familiar phrase he’d heard his whole life, but he didn’t know how to be any other way.

But for the first time, it was tempting to find out. To just, lay down for a while. But that was a risk, if he rested, could he get back up? Or would his bed become his grave?

No, because he wasn’t alone. Purple cared. Purple wouldn’t let him rest forever. Even if he wanted to.

——

Things were quiet, work was steady, Purple was going and going and - “You push yourself too hard.”

King put a hand to his mouth, he suddenly understood what everyone else meant when they said that. What they saw.

“Come and sit a moment, I made muffins,” King could tell that Purple didn’t want to, and pushed the tray forward, “they’re banana walnut chocolate chip.”

“…Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

King tried not to get lost in imagination, in the what could haves and what should haves. It usually only hurt, but today he was alone. With Purple gone and nothing to distract him…

Imagine if the machine had worked and Gold had just walked out of the game after his allotted time. King imagined that he would have chattered about the game the entire train ride home. King wouldn’t quite understand his son’s enthusiasm but he would nod along as his son explained mechanics that he knew all too well now.

King doubted that would be the last he heard of Minecraft. His son never did anything in half-measures. Would he have turned to criminal activities just to get a chance to play again? …Probably.

Maybe there was a secret group of underground teens who had a portal much like he did now, that seemed believable.

Gold probably would drag Aqua with him, since they did everything together. Hard to say if Aqua would like Minecraft though, maybe the building aspect. King could see her building a farm.

Would Gold and Purple meet? Now there was a thought. King doubted they would get along, Purple probably would find Gold grating. Especially Purple as he was when they’d met.

Or Purple would have tricked Gold into doing something dangerous for Purple’s personal gain…

Gold would die in Minecraft all the time, but that would be okay because he’d just respawn in a bed.

Would Gold bring him into Minecraft? King doubted it. To never have set foot in the game… was a strange thought that filled him with emotions he still didn’t want to look at closely.

Gold probably would have spent that summer obsessed with the game, then gone off to college in the city. Gold had never been sure what he wanted to pursue and honestly King figured his son would become a stay-at-home dad.

King might even be a grandfather by now, though maybe not; Aqua would still be in veterinary school. He could picture the greenish baby stick, though and his son’s tears the first time he got to hold them… so like King’s own, though hopefully Gold’s tears would be pure joy and not half sorrow like his…

But… what was the point of imagining all this?

None of it was real. It hurt to do it. Made his chest ache in longing for a reality that could never be.

He was in his house alone. Sitting in the dark. He should probably go to bed, but the thoughts and feelings wouldn’t make that easy.

King pulled out his phone and checked the time before send a text to Purple anyway, “Are you up?”

Purple’s reply took just long enough that King thought maybe Purple had gone to bed, “Ye just finished the movie. Was about to head back.”

“I thought you were going to stay over there?”

“If you think we’re bad at sleeping, they are way worse. Except for orange, he fell asleep during the movie. I want sleep so I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Maybe this wasn’t all he’d dreamed of. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still good. That he didn’t have things to look forward to here. That there wasn’t still hope. That he wasn’t still grateful what he did have now.

Purple was going to get one hell of a hug when he got home.

Chapter Text

He must’ve taken the train home. He stares into the darkness of his empty house, a piece of paper held in his trembling hand.

King looked behind himself, waiting for this to stop being real. For Gold to bound in. For him to wake up, because this must be a dream, a nightmare, because it doesn’t make sense.

He left here this morning with the sun at his back and his son’s hand in his.

He looked down at the paper in the hand once held by his boy, and the urge to crush the paper or tear it or burn it but none of that was enough.

He needed to destroy it, like it had destroyed his son. Like it had destroyed him.

——

He hated who he’d become in his wrath, and he was sure Gold would have too.

Purple had been here, they’d had breakfast together, but the boy had to go get his things if he was going to stay long term.

And King needed him to stay long term.

Without being driven by hate, he was acutely aware how empty the house was. How haunted, gold dust in every corner.

He looked at the stacks and stacks of books. At the pile of failed staves. At the mess on the wall. At the pile of garbage in the kitchen. All of it had to go and the day wasn’t getting any younger.

And if he was working, he wasn’t thinking about it.

——

“You really aren’t giving yourself any time to process anything, huh?” The accusation came from Purple a few days into their clean up, while King was scrubbing the counter.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you even sat down and cried?”

“No, I haven’t, I don’t have time. This has to be cleaned up right now,” King wouldn’t, couldn’t look at Purple, because he knew the boy was right. He should slow down and stop running.

“I did, y’know. When I went back to my apartment, I freaked out so bad. Part of why I left was because I figured you needed to too. Turns out you still need to,” King stared at Purple, surprised at the vulnerability the younger stick was showing him.

“I don’t think I know how,” King confessed, returning Purple’s trust in kind, “This has just always been what I do. Just keep moving.”

“Well, I don’t have any tips beyond maybe don’t because it’s unhealthy. Take a break for a breakdown at some point, please? If you need me to be here for you, I will, or if you need me to give you some space, or whatever. Just let me know,” And with his piece said Purple went back to sweeping the floor.

——

King sat at his desk, alone in the house. Purple often split his time between several homes, and today was not King’s turn.

In front of him was an empty journal; Purple suggested that it might be easier to get in touch with his emotions through writing. Purple didn’t say whether or not he had a journal and really it wasn’t King’s business if he did.

“I miss you.” He wrote. And then again, “I miss you.”

He filled the page with, “I miss you.”

His throat felt ragged, not quite sobbing, though his face was warm and wet. But once the page was full, he stopped. That was enough, it was a start.

He was cleaning out a festering infection. There was a sense of relief. Things could only get better from here.

Chapter Text

Gold knew that something was wrong the moment he stepped out of his room. The lights were out in the house. The was no smell of brewing coffee, baking bread or frying eggs, “Dad?”

He hated how scared he sounded. He hated how that fear rose when his Dad didn’t actually reply.

Taking a deep breath, Gold walked the up the hallway to his father’s room, and opened the door. At first, in the dim light of morning, it looked like the man wrapped in blankets wasn’t breathing.

But then a ragged breath worked its way out and Gold let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and went over to his father’s bedside.

King’s face was more red than it should and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow. Gold wasn’t super experienced with illness because his dad didn’t get sick often but that was definitely a fever.

“Dad?” Gold spoke softly and King jerked awake to look at his son. Even as sick as he obviously was he managed a tired smile at the sight of Gold.

“Gold…” King squinted up at Gold, clearly processing things a little slower than usual, “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry, it’s Saturday,” Gold reassured with a pat on his father’s head, his hand coming back sticky with sweat.

“Could you close the curtains? I have a really bad headache,” King whispered and Gold obediently went and closed them. His dad must be in bad shape if he was willingly making requests.

“Are you hungry?” Gold asked, “Thirsty?”

“Not sure if I’m hungry or nauseous. Definitely thirsty though,” King nodded weakly, “but you can’t cook.”

“I can make toast,” Gold asserted, hands on his hips, “and canned soup.”

“Mmmh,” King’s expression was hard to read, “Fine, get me some water and toast then.”

“Anything on the toast?” Gold asked, ready to spring away and get to work being helpful.

“Honey, if we have some.”

“You got it dad!” Gold had his orders and off he went.

—

The toast had just popped when Gold heard a groan that came from way too close. King stood at the end of the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, leaning on the wall for support.

“Dad! You were supposed to stay in bed!” Gold scolded loud enough that King winced and held his head.

“Bathroom. And I can’t have honey toast in bed. Too sticky,” King mumbled, stumbling his way unsteadily to the dining room, where he slumped across the table while Gold finished getting breakfast ready.

“Voila, two slices of toast with honey and one large glass of water,” Gold presented with a very quiet flourish. King grabbed the glass of water and Hal emptied it before picking up a piece of toast and nibbling it. Fortunately, it did seem to be hunger and not nausea, and soon he’d finished the toast and the water.

But now he was shivering while Gold filled the water glass full again.

“Chilled,” King explained and Gold nodded.

“Yep, gonna get you back in bed, c’mon,” Gold offered his arm and King, after a long moment, took it.

It was so strange to have his father genuinely leaning on him for support. It made Gold realize just how unprepared he was if something serious were to happen to his dad. He really was going to have to start learning how to take care of himself. His dad wouldn’t be here forever.

——

Purple’s morning routine was shattered; King was still in bed. Maybe he’d had a nightmare and actually tried to get back to sleep for once. Maybe he was Sick.

No, no, he wasn’t going to lose another parent.

They half-ran up the hallway to King’s room and peered in. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, but King made a noise as soon as Purple took a step inside, just a whispered name, “Purple…?”

“Yep, just me, Baba,” Purple whispered back, drawing a little closer, both to hear and be heard in turn.

“I have a migraine, could you keep it down today?” King asked and Purple nodded.

“You got it, Baba,” And Purple quietly crept back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Time to make some breakfast. Quietly.

—

King wasn’t expecting Purple to come back. Least of all with a tray of breakfast.

“Oatmeal with fruit and honey, and a big bottle of water,” Purple laid the tray across King’s lap with a quiet flourish.

“Thank you, Purple.”

“Anything else you need?” Purple asked, eager to help in any way he could, but King shook his head.

“Some sleep, but there’s not much you can do about that.”

“I have some melatonin gummies that help me sleep, wanna try them?” King looked thoughtful but shook his head.

“Not today, but I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

Purple sighed softly, gathering up the empty tray and moving the half empty bottle of water to the bedside table, “Well, try and get some rest. If you need me, you can text.”

King nodded, settling back down into bed, “Thank you, Purple.”

“No problem, Baba.”

King was going to be fine. This was just a normal migraine. He would be fine and Purple was going to make sure of it.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t see the floor he walked on, just a long expanse of white. Was this all death was? Walking alone?

He’d hoped… that… Gold would be here. Or Purple. Or Banana. Or anyone, really.

But all he had for company was the sound of his own footsteps. Something drove him to keep walking; what was he looking for?

Out of the white, his old house appeared, monochrome, door ajar. He had nowhere else to go, so he continued on, stepping inside.

No signs of his… project remained, making him realize how much of his life he’d let it occupy. How empty he was.

The sound of chalk scratching on his wall got his attention. He saw himself being drawn, alongside his son. Happier times.

He watched, as Minecraft appeared and took his son from him again. The ache in his chest twinged as he saw himself lose his grip and collapse to the ground.

He became a giant and began beating Minecraft in return. There was satisfaction there, it deserved it.

But then, creatures appeared. Minecraft was full of life that he was hurting. And then that group of children appeared, trying to protect them.

And then Gold appeared and King felt the satisfaction drop to the pit of stomach and turn to regret. He watched as the giant… as he… grabbed his son and began using him as a weapon.

His son would hate who he’d become. He told himself he was okay with that. It wasn’t true.

He touched the wall, trying to smear the chalk, to wipe it away, to stop himself, but it did nothing. His son changed into Purple as he began pounding on the wall, begging it to stop.

Purple, the boy who had only wanted his approval. Who seemed content with the faintest praise. Who he’d used. Who he’d killed.

Something happened that had only ever happened in his dreams. The sound of shattering glass surrounded him as he broke through to the darkness on the other side.

The glass shards hung in the air around him, but that didn’t matter. Purple sat on the ground, spotlight on him and surrounded by drifting petals.

King launched himself forward, footsteps echoing heavily as he ran. Purple looked up as he approached, and got to his feet, bracing himself for a punch.

But all he received was a hug. Maybe the tightest one he’d ever got.

“I’m so sorry,” King whispered, while Purple was still stunned. But as soon as he got his bearings, he returned the embrace.

“You’re forgiven.”

And then there was an incredibly loud whooshing sound as the pair were pulled backwards and spat back out into the world of Minecraft.

King landed flat on his back, Purple still cradled in his arms. And though Purple said he’d forgiven him, it still came as surprise when boy moved to help him up.

The other Orange came through the portal and King quickly got to his feet. He watched as they warily judged Purple, waiting on the Pig’s approval before approaching.

They were just kids.

He hung his head as Orange drew forward, before dropping down to one knee and removing his crown, “I am… incredibly sorry for all the trouble and pain I’ve caused all of you, I-”

Orange reached down and took his hand, pulling King up a little and gave it a shake, “If you’re done hurting people, we’re not gonna keep fighting you.”

Purple pulled King up the rest of the way and King placed the crown back on its true owner’s head, “I believe this belongs to you.”

While Orange seemed sincere about letting it go, it was clear that group as a whole didn’t quite agree. And King couldn’t blame them.

He had one thing he still had to fix, well, technically he had a lot of things to fix, but this was one he could fix immediately.

He reached down and picked up the staff, and fixed the command block back in it. All of the kids stepped back, even Purple, which, even though he couldn’t blame them, still stung a little.

He respawned the Titan Ravagers he’d destroyed earlier. And then, with that completed, he handed off the staff to Yellow, “Take care of it, please. An incredible amount of work went into it.”

King watched the children say goodbye to the friends they’d made, culminating in the hug Purple so deserved.

Well, it was time to go.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” Purple called out, pulling out of the hug to reach out for him. He froze, before going back to the boy and giving him an awkward handshake.

“I don’t think I should really linger here anymore than I already have, but you’re welcome to join me, if you want.”

And much to his surprise, Purple did, in fact, want to accompany him home.

Maybe… things would be alright.

Chapter Text

He looked down at the mug warming his hands, one of the many "#1 Dad" ones Gold had gotten him over the years for Father's Day. This one was one of the older ones, a little chipped on the edge from a time when Gold snuck up on him while he was washing it and he'd dropped it back into the sink.

There were some that weren't so lucky to make it to today... much like the one who'd gifted them.

He knew there was one that had been broken in the yard, though the how he didn't know. He just found the shards from time to time in the garden.

What was he going to do when he ran out? He couldn't very well buy his own "#1 Dad" mugs. Well, he could, nothing was stopping him, but it felt dishonest.

He had a few plain mugs, some with quippy jokes, but he always gravitated to the "Dad" mugs first.

What would happen when there was no trace of him in the house? Time destroyed all things, after all.

That day was so far away as to almost be inconceivable though. He still hadn't touched Gold's room, other than to place a few things of his they'd found while cleaning the main mess. Things that were supposed to be in his room. Things he didn't remember moving, but he must have.

He could hear Purple stirring in his room - rather early for him to be up.

He watched Purple creep out of his room, holding something in his hands, but King couldn't make out what it was, "Morning, Purple."

The young man fumbled with whatever it was before tucking it behind his back, "Shoot, you're already awake. Morning, Baba. I, uh, I'll be right back, gimme a sec!"

And he darted back to his room, while King chuckled. He loved Purple's little quirks.

A moment of rustling later and he came back out with a bag and a card, which he set on the table. The card was in the shape of a crown, with a simple "Happy Father's Day!" written on it. It was signed by Purple, but also the other kids from the PC.

It meant a lot to him that they had bothered to sign it - he was never quite sure where he stood with them, but this was an indicator that at least they probably weren't afraid of him anymore. Maybe he should have them all over for a movie night, now that he had a TV.

He set the card down and Purple slid forward the silvery giftbag with purple and white tissue paper poking out, "I hope... you don't think this is... rude or bad or - I just noticed a pattern and I hope that I'm not stepping on memories or whatever and if this isn't good enough I'll get you something else, I just thought -"

Before Purple could keep rambling in that very Purple way of his, King reached into the bag and felt around for whatever was inside. His hand brushed something ceramic and he knew that this was a mug. He found the handle and lifted it out of the bag to get a look at it.

It was purple, and written on the side, in fancy golden cursive, were the words "#1 Baba". One the bottom of the mug, both inside and out, a golden crown had been painted, slightly off-centre.

"I, uh, made it myself. I hope it's -" Purple was interrupted by King reaching across and pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you Purple, this was very sweet," King's voice was husky as he held Purple tight. Purple hugged him back equally tightly.

"Happy Father's Day, Baba."

Chapter Text

King was awake in the dark, a very large part of his life, it seemed, was him lying awake in the dark. There was something that clenched his heart until it ached this morning, something he couldn’t shake as he laid in bed.

It was both shocking and perfectly understandable. Previous years he had been too… busy to try and process it.

He’d hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet and the weight of the day was too much.

Purple would understand if he didn’t get around to making breakfast. He knew what today was. King didn’t know how, he hadn’t told Purple the date.

He was torn between wanting to wallow in his grief, just let himself hurt and let his heart bleed tears on the pillows. And the familiar drive to ignore it, to keep moving forward, to treat the day like any other.

He got up, heading to the kitchen to start making coffee before pulling up short. He was going to go to the corner store for coffee. He was sure if Aqua was at work she might like the company… she had lost him too, after all.

He packed up a little bag of the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies he’d made the other day and set out into the dark.

It was a quiet walk, the sky not even bright enough to trigger the morning birdsong yet. He stared down the road to the cemetery… maybe today he could find the strength to visit.

But first coffee and Aqua.

He swung the door open and he could tell the difference between her usual greeting and today’s and he wondered if he was as obvious as she was.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you this morning, y’know with everything…”

King couldn’t get his his words to come out, so he just held out the bag of cookies which she gladly took.

“Ooh, pumpkin chocolate chip, not my favourite but pretty dang close,” Aqua smiled, turning away to start the coffee machine, “The usual, I assume?”

“Mm,” King nodded an affirmative and Aqua got to work. While the coffee brewed, they simply sat in silence, normally they shared a little gossip about recent happenings, but it seemed wrong to do the usual today.

Today was not just any day after all.

She handed him the hot coffee, and he took it to the coffee station to fill the cup with too much sugar.

Coming out here was a mistake. He wasn’t being very good company for Aqua at all. He hadn’t even said a word to her. He’d probably only reminded her her of what they’d both lost.

“Have a… nice day, Mr. King.”

The coffee burned his tongue and throat as he walked back out, he couldn’t even taste the sugar in it.

—

By the time Purple was up, King had long since finished his coffee. King had even made breakfast, just some fruit salad and toast.

“Oh thanks,” Purple sat down to eat, watching King as the older stick laid draped across the table, clearly in his own mind, “You can go back to bed if you want, y’know.”

“I might,” King conceded, raising himself from his seat and slouching his way back to his bedroom.

—

He woke, the roaring of the vortex echoing in his mind. He clung to the blankets as if they were his son’s hand, the sobs tearing their way out of his chest, leaving him breathless.

It had been a long time now since he’d had a nightmare that intense, but it was to be expected today.

He lurched out of bed, trudging to the dining room. There was a note on the table:

“Hey Baba, I went out for a bit, there’s tomato soup in the pot on the stove and a grilled cheese sandwich in the toaster oven. I’ll be back in time for supper, don’t make anything, I’ll pick something up on the way home.”

King warmed up the lunch Purple had left him, sore heart full of love for the boy. Purple was too good to him.

—

After eating and doing the dishes he left Purple a note of his own: “Gone to the cemetery.”

—

It was a warm walk, in the afternoon summer sun, but King didn’t mind. He’d take this over the stifling heat of the Nether.

He stepped into the cemetery and realized he hadn’t been here since the service. But he knew his way easily, since Gold and his mother’s graves were side by side.

And Gold’s grave was covered in flowers, mostly marigolds like the ones King had brought, but among them was one sunflower. Aqua must’ve dropped that off after her shift.

“Look at how many people miss you, Gold. Could you even imagine getting this many flowers? Where would I put them all if I had to take them home?” King allowed himself a watery laugh as he set down his own offering.

“Thank you for… for having been here. For bringing your sunshine into my life. I miss your smile, even if I can still see it in my pictures. I miss your ability to find the good in anything.”

“I hope you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you and how proud of you I was. You were… you were a good kid.”

It was too hard to keep talking, his eyes were burning and his face was wet. He laid his hand on the headstone and tried to breath through the lump in his throat.

And as much as this hurt, it was better than the anger he’d known previously.

As tempting as it was to stay here surrounded by the memories of others, to drown in the flower petals and grief, he had someone back home waiting for him.

Living.

Chapter Text

King had just finished packing the cooler when Purple strolled out of his room, already dressed for the day. He looked surprisingly more awake than King was used to at this hour, "Good morning, Purple. I'm afraid I haven't started on breakfast yet."

"Oh, that's okay, Baba, I am up early after all. What's... all this about?"

"Oh, I'm heading out fishing this morning. I should be back in time for supper, but you'll be on your own for lunch."

"Ah," Purple looked at the cupboards, and at the cooler, and finally at King, a hand to his chin before asking, "Can I come?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, of course. I just never really took you for the fishing type."

"... I'm not, but... maybe that was just because of the company... y'know?" Purple laughed before looking away and clutching his arm.

King nodded knowingly, not pushing Purple for any further details on that, "Well then, let me go get some supplies for you. You want to make up a sandwich for yourself and tuck it into the cooler while I go grab them?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Purple nodded, broken out of his thoughts, and the two of them scooted around each other in the small kitchen, King heading into Gold's room.

He looked at the room, having barely touched it other than to dust it occasionally. He took a deep breath. This was okay.

Gold would be okay with lending Purple his fishing pole. He would have done it without a thought.

King opened the closet, and found the pole leaning against the far right wall, tacklebox and hat sat at its base. Ah yes, they'd been planning a fishing trip before... and Gold had hunted it down and set it aside.

King smiled, and reached to touch his face. It wasn't the first time he'd smiled remembering his son but it was not yet a frequent occurrence. It still took him by surprise.

He reached out and gathered the gear in his arms.

When he came back out to the kitchen after setting the pole and box by the door, Purple was just tucking his sandwich into the cooler. King grinned at him and pulled out the hat, plopping it on Purple's noggin.

The hat was one of those classic fishing hats, decorated with various lures. Honestly, it was an eyesore. It definitely did not fit Purple's general aesthetic at all.

"Do I have to wear it?" Purple groaned, pulling a face.

King laughed good-naturedly, "No, not if you really don't want to, but you will definitely want a hat, or your face will get very sunburned and a hat with less brim won't protect you enough, and a much wider brim will definitely get caught by the wind on the beach."

Purple frowned, hand leaving the hat with a sigh, "Fine..."

"If it actually turns out you like fishing we'll buy you your own hat and rod, alright?" King reassured, grabbing his own equally tacky - get it? because it's covered in lures aka tackle? - hat.

"...Wait, you mean this is...?" Purple took the hat off, looking at it again in a new light.

"Yes. It's Gold's old hat," King confirmed, noting Purple's frown, "You really don't have to wear it if it makes you uncomfortable, I'm sure I can find another hat."

"No, it's not... it's not that. Just... are you sure I can... wear this?"

"I wouldn't have offered it to you otherwise. Just be careful with it, okay?" King reassured, shifting the cooler in his hands, "Now grab your rod and tacklebox and let's get out to the car, we're going to miss the tide."

"Right, yes, sir! Uh, King!" Purple hastily corrected himself, grabbing the borrowed rod and gear while King held the door open for him. Purple looked back into the house one last time, feeling a real connection with the boy who used to be there, "Thanks for the gear."

Chapter Text

King looked up from his book as the stick on his bed took a shuddering breath. He watched the barely visible face screw up in what was probably pain, before relaxing again.

--

He'd pulled the stick out of the crater he'd found them in almost a week ago, their red flesh spiderwebbed with a burning acid green. He'd actually thought the stick was dead.

King had intended to take the bracelets, which were clearly the source of those blades that had destroyed all they had cut. King would need something like that if he wanted to avenge his son.

But when he reached for the bracelets, the stick moved. Growled something King hadn't been able to make out at the time and then fell still again.

King watched the stick's wound heal only to open again and heal again. He should have taken the bracelets and left. Or maybe even killed the stick with them. It might have been a kindness.

But the soft voice of Gold still echoed in him from time to time. We have to help him, Dad.

King sighed and heeded the words, reaching down to lift the stick up. No reaction. It wasn't looking good. But he still obediently took the not quite a corpse yet to his car and buckled them in. He drove as carefully as he could back to the main road.

He arrived home after dark, which was very convenient, because he had no idea what to tell the neighbours about the stick that hung limp in his arms.

As soon as he stepped inside he had a dilemma to solve. Where to put them?

They could take my bed! King shook his head viciously at the thought. He hadn't been able to set foot in his son's room since the accident; he certainly wasn't putting a stranger in there!

"They will be using my bed," He said to the empty house with an air of finality that none would dare argue with.

He set them down upon it gently.

--

Since then, they had awoken a few times, never long enough for a conversation, usually only long enough to get a glass of water and a bite of food in them before they passed back out.

Even without the ability to converse, King had learned a few things about his house guest/patient. What he'd initially thought was grievous head injury was actually simply a natural feature of this stick. King had to wonder what their Creator had been thinking when they made them.

And something tickled his memory whenever he looked at them. Like he should know who they were, but every time he tried to grasp the knowledge, it slipped away.

Besides, he had to focus, there was so much more to learn about Minecraft.

--

King woke up to the loud sound of a thump, and even louder cursing. He scrambled to untangle himself from the sleeping bag and went to go take a look around the corner.

As he suspected, his "guest" was awake, and trying to drag themself across the floor.

"Where do you think you're going?" King asked, eyebrow arched and arms folded, tone scolding.

The stick on the floor craned his neck to look up at King, "Outta here."

"Oh yes, I see that's going so well for you," King remarked, crouching down.

"Yeah, well, it'd be going even better if you'd get outta my way," The red stick growled, trying to shove King aside, but the tall stick didn't budge.

As a matter of fact, King grabbed the other stick under their arms and set them back on the bed, despite their protests.

"Listen, you aren't in any state to be going anywhere, especially not 'outta here'. If I wanted to hurt you I would have left you in that crater. Or killed you myself," He's not going to mention he had considered both of those things at one point.

"Then, clearly you must not know who I am!" The red stick folded his arms.

"You're right. I don't. Should I?" King tilted his head curiously as the red sticks hollow head split into a sharp-toothed grin.

"I'm The Dark Lord. Y'know, the 'Net terrorist!"

Well, that did take King by surprise, but the more he thought about it, the more perfect this could be. A living force of destruction was just what he needed after all.

"Well, that's... surprising, certainly."

"Surprising?! That's it?!" The Dark Lord's face fell in disbelief.

"Yes. But not completely unwelcome," King nodded, expression thoughtful.

"What do you mean, exactly?" The Dark Lord narrowed his eye cautiously as King spread his arms wide.

"I am working on a project that could really use your talents."

Chapter Text

"It was very nice of them to invite me," King remarked as he rolled up a colourful towel, "Are you sure you're going to be able to carry me and our beach day things?"

"You can't be that much heavier than Green, it'll be fine," Purple reassured, popping his own towel into the bag, "Besides, it's not like there's that much in there, a couple of towels and some sandals..."

"There's an entire picnic in the other bag," King reminded Purple, hefting the aforementioned bag over his shoulder, "Oof, and it definitely has some weight to it."

"Okay, so we might walk for a little bit," Purple rubbed the back of his head, "But I should be able to handle getting us over the big lava lake and across the soul sand valley."

"If you're sure," King frowned, picking up the beach bag and hanging it off the opposite shoulder.

"I've got this," Purple reassured, and the two made their way to the basement portal.

--

And to Purple's credit, he did, in fact, got this. There were definitely some long stretches of walking through the Nether, which gave King an opportunity to talk with Purple.

"So... they did actually invite me right? This isn't going to be an unpleasant surprise for them and me right?"

"What? You don't trust me, Baba?" Purple put his hand to his chest in mock hurt.

"I know you well enough to know you're more of a 'it's better to ask forgiveness than permission' sort sometimes is all," King defended, putting a hand on the bag at his hip.

"I promise, Baba. They actually invited you. They don't hate you as much as you think they should. They're kind of like that. Way too forgiving. Besides, you've clearly shown them that you're not... The King anymore, y'know. Through me and stuff. And you keep feeding them, you'd be surprised how excited they are to get your baked goods," Purple reassured with a hand on King's back, "Now we've got one more section of flight to do, think you're ready?"

"...As I'll ever be."

--

Stepping out of the portal and onto the PC was a little jarring and King sort of just stood there taking it all in for a moment. He could hear the sounds of the beach coming from all around him...

Purple pushed past him and started climbing down, out of the window and calling out to the others, "We're here!"

He turned back to look at the awestruck King, and smacked himself in the head, "Oh yeah, this is your first time on a PC, isn't it, Baba?"

"...Yes," King answered, shifting his feet a bit, and Purple held out a hand.

"C'mon, follow me," Purple coaxed the older stick into taking his hand and they climbed down onto the main screen together, landing on the sand blocks with a crunch, "Wow guys, this looks great!"

The whole screen was done up like, well, a beach, with sand and water and few palm trees. The trees looked hand-drawn, but the rest of it looked like Minecraft assets.

"Very... tropical," King nodded, gaze drifting out of the PC, but the view was... very fuzzy. Better to admire the kids' work.

"Oh, you actually came!" Red clapped excitedly, with a parrot perched on either shoulder, "Guys, Purple and King are here!"

And it was like magic, the way the others just seemed to appear, dropping down out of other windows. Green ran and embraced Purple whose cheeks definitely turned a shade darker in response.

"Glad you could make it," Orange said, holding his hand out for King to shake. King took it politely and gave it a single shake.

"Thank you for inviting me," King smiled as Yellow approached and peeked inside the picnic bag.

"He brought food!"

"Yes!" Blue cheered from their spot on the beach.

"Just a few sandwiches, really, since I wasn't sure what any of you would like. Tuna, chicken salad, egg salad, bologna and cucumber. Two of each, so anyone who wants to try can at least have one triangle to themselves," King explained as Yellow took the bag off his shoulder and carried it to the drawn picnic table.

King followed her, setting his other bag down next to the table before making his way to the water's edge and dipping his feet and legs into the cool water.

Despite hearing the sounds of the surf, the water was actually placid. That was kind of nice, it meant he wasn't about to get soaked from head to toe by an errant wave.

No, he was going to get soaked by the gaggle of children charging past him to get in the water.

King couldn't even be upset about it; the kids were laughing and having fun. Honestly it was a bit of a relief that they didn't seem to feel tense or on edge at all. They seemed wholly unbothered by his presence.

King watched them play something akin to volleyball; he wasn't quite sure what the rules were but it was three on three, so it wasn't quite proper volleyball. And goodness were they ever competitive.

He frowned as he started to notice... all of them were covered in scars. Even Purple, who had a dark scar that spread across his whole torso like a lightning bolt... Had Purple ever been electrocuted before? That felt like something they would have told him. He'd ask Purple about it later.

He got up and headed to the picnic table to unpack the sandwiches, enjoying how the sand didn't get stuck to his feet. A few moments later and the kids had noticed his absence, and they all came charging out of the water as a unit.

The eagerly settled around him, grabbing sandwiches from the trays. It seemed they didn't have the best table manners, but honestly they still weren't the rudest people he'd ever eaten with.

King happily chatted with them, mostly with Yellow about her experiments with the command block staff but eventually King managed to get Purple's attention.

"So, where did you get that scar?" King asked, and despite his conversational tone the whole table went silent. Green and Blue bit their lips and Orange just stared at King, trying to lock eyes with the stick, but King's gaze was focused on Purple, who squirmed under it like he'd been caught in a lie.

"I... you..." Purple started, and licked his lips and started again, "...are you sure you want to know?"

King paused, aware that Purple genuinely thought there was a reason he wouldn't want to know. He looked at the scar, and he felt the staff he no longer had vibrating in his hands; he lashed out in anger then, hadn't he? "I... gave it to you, didn't I?"

He very much wanted Purple to shake his head, but the young man only hung his head and King flinched, "I'm sorry."

Purple shook his head, "You already apologized for it. And I forgave you then."

King knew what he'd wanted to say wasn't the right thing to say, so he didn't apologize again, or insist that Purple shouldn't have forgiven him. He just hung his own head and went back to his sandwich quietly.

He expected the Colour Gang - as Purple called them sometimes - to stay silent and them politely guide them out, but that's not what happened.

Instead, they took turns talking about their own scars. It turned out that King wasn't the only one who'd hurt someone he cared about. It was pretty shocking to hear about all of Green's scars and how many had actually come from the others.

It... made him feel a little bit better.

These kids were good for Purple. He'd already been pretty confident about that, but it was good to see it in action.

And if he was being honest with himself, they were good for him too.

Chapter Text

He was seated in the police station. Not under arrest, but being questioned. He was pretty sure he said something stupid along the lines of: “The game ate my son.”

His face was wet and he tasted salt. He wanted his son back. He wanted to go home.

They were talking about sending him to the hospital. He did not want to go to the hospital. He wanted to go home. Surely Gold was there. Waiting. Because this was a prank. A joke. Not a very funny one, he’d have to talk to the boy about that. Pretending to be… gone.

King stood up, “Am I being arrested?”

The cops shook their heads.

“I’m going home then.”

“We’ll be in touch,” A bright blue one said, with a hand on King’s shoulder.

“Sure,” King pulled away.

—

“I’m here to pick up my books,” King said, handing over his slip to the bookseller. The pale green stick smiled and looked over the slip with a nod before ducking under the counter.

“Oof,” She remarked, pulling up the large bundle, “this is a lot of books. Do you need a bag? Are you walking far?”

“Just to my car,” King replied, taking the package from her and walking out.

He sat in the car reading for an hour.

—

King looked at the calendar on the wall. The nineteenth was circled in purple and he didn’t remember circling it, “Purple, why is the nineteenth marked on the calendar?”

“Oh, uh, it’s my birthday, sir,” Purple answered, tying off yet another garbage bag. It felt like the mess King had made was endless.

“Ah, do you have plans? With your friends?” The older stick asked, still wiping down the counter as if it weren’t already spotless.

“Traditional birthday lunch with Sky, but other than that, no,” Purple shrugged, trying to play it cool and indifferent.

“Now you have dinner plans as well,” King smiled and chuckled at Purple’s confusion, “with me.”

“Oh no sir, that won’t be necessary!”

“I insist. Besides, it’s been… a very long time since I’ve made a cake, so you’re partially a test subject. What kind do you like? I was thinking something with ube maybe?”

“Ooh, I’ve never had ube before!” Purple clapped his hands in excitement.

“Ube it is then. If you don’t like it I’ll gladly make you something else later. Sounds like a plan?” Purple nodded while King began plotting in earnest.

Maybe he could try to get a hold of the PC sticks. Though if he were going to invite them over the house cleaning had to be finished. And what was he going to get Purple as a gift? The cake didn’t count, even if Purple insisted it did.

Finally some work he was excited to do.

Chapter Text

He stared at his reflection; he was definitely looking better than he did a month ago. He wasn’t as gaunt, his facial hair was shaved and his eyes no longer had such heavy bags under them.

But there was still one thing that stood out. His hair. It was long and wild, and that was after both his and Purple’s attempts to brush it out.

“It needs to be cut,” A simple statement. It filled him with dread.

He hadn’t cut his hair since before… the accident. It was something that Gold had seen and touched and letting even this little piece of himself that Gold loved felt… like too much.

But, like most of the changes King had gone through without Gold, the boy would not have liked this part of him either. It was a mess. He was a mess. Still. Forever.

Besides, he couldn’t cut it himself and asking Purple to help him with yet another bit of cleaning up the mess he was turned his stomach. That meant making an appointment with Crystal, his hairdresser.

He didn’t want to talk to Crystal. He didn’t want to sit and have her chatter at him about metaphysics and chakras and what rocks are helpful with grief.

But at least she wouldn’t ask questions. She would already know. Not the full extent, of course, but enough.

He grabbed his phone off the sink, opened his contacts and hit call before he could think himself out of it. It rang one, twice, three times before she picked up, “Hello King.”

“Hello, Crystal,” They both sounded so stiff and businesslike, as though they’d never been friends. As though that were another life, “I’d like to make an appointment for a haircut.”

“Sure thing. I actually just had a cancellation this morning, if you’re available now,” They both knew he was.

“Sure, I’ll be right along,” He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to convince himself out of it on the short walk there, let alone if he had to wait several days, so sooner was better than later.

He pulled on his jacket, slipped on his shoes and strode out the door, trying to walk with purpose. At least the crunch of the dirt road underfoot sounded nice and the morning sun was pleasantly warm on his face, despite the slight chill still in the air.

The old farmhouse where Crystal lived and worked looked the same as ever, though maybe it had the windows redone.

He rang the bell and she opened the door immediately, clearly having been waiting just beyond it, “Come on in, the chair’s ready.”

She guided him to her little salon and he took a seat in the chair, “Cut off the mess, but try to save as much as you can.”

“You got it,” Crystal nodded, touching his hair and inspecting it before soaking it and giving it a good rinse.

Normally there would be conversation, but Crystal didn’t initiate and King didn’t feel like talking.

“You know, this isn’t as bad as it looks,” Crystal finally said, scissors in hand, “I mean, it’s still bad, don’t get me wrong, and don’t let it get this bad again, but it’s not unsalvageable. I’m not gonna have to shave you bald, which is good because I don’t think you could pull that look off.”

“Hmph, rude,” King teased, feeling a bit like his old self.

She laughed and returned to silence once more, focused on getting his hair under control.

—

“Aaand… done! What do you think?” She asked, turning King to face his reflection. He peered at the shoulder-length hair that nicely curled at the ends, just long enough to pull back into a ponytail. He looked like himself. Finally. Again.