Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

  Today was going to be a terrible day, Grian realized as he stepped outside his base near the lake. His head felt slightly heavy, and he could feel a cough tickle the back of his throat. The weather was changing, a chill in the early morning air. Grian knew he was more susceptible to colds during this time of the year. Did that stop him from continuing with his builds? No. Did that stop him from going down into the mines and going through portals to the Nether to gather materials and resources? No. Did it stop him from fishing for a mending book every time he found himself with a bit of spare time? Obviously not.

  He had been working day and night on his starter base, determined to get it done within a deadline he had set for himself. That, plus fishing and working out all the problems at the permit office left Grian with no time to actually breathe. To be fair, Grian wasn’t complaining. He enjoyed doing all of it. What he didn’t enjoy however, was being ill. 

  Falling sick meant delays on all his projects, delays which Grian would very much like to not have. So he cleared his throat, shaking his head and took flight away from his almost finished starter house. Today he would be spending most of his time at the permit office, having organized a small event for the distribution of the unclaimed permits that the office had in its possession. 

  He landed in the parking lot of the permit office, wondering whether leaving his sweater behind was a good idea or not. The sun was still not properly up in the sky, which meant that the chill in the air was particularly bad while flying. It also meant that Grian was all but frozen to the bone. He was wearing his uniform today on occasion of the ‘Permit Challenges’, the game Grian had organized.

  Well, technically. He hadn’t really done much preparation for the whole thing yet, despite having a month to get everything ready. In true permit office fashion really. Grian still had to create lists of tasks for each participant, build a little dock for one of the said tasks and actually have the permit office ready for all of this.

  He coughed into his elbow, wincing at the slight pain in his chest that it caused. Grian assumed that it was probably a result of all the travelling he did between the Nether and Overworld yesterday while building his guardian farm. That was the only explanation he could find for this sudden development in his health. 

  Once Grian had finished making enough copies of the tasks for the participants of ‘Permit Challenges’, he entered the permit office to tidy up a little bit and gather the unclaimed permits and prepare for actual tasks. 

  Almost three hours later, which included a lot of flying and building and travelling through portals to both the Nether and the End, Grian was finally done. He added some finishing touches to the permit office, especially down in the waiting room before making it back upstairs. 

  To his surprise there was a line of Hermits waiting outside. Grian opened the doors to the permit office, wincing at the noise the hinges made due to extreme disuse. Everyone waiting in line turned to look at Grian, a slight grimace on their faces due to the noise.

  Their expressions soon changed to excitement as he straightened up, clasping his hands together—

  “Hello everyone, come on in!” Grian greeted, beckoning them all in as he went to take his spot behind the counter, “lemme see how many of you guys are there.”

  Grian’s estimate while making the tasks was about right as he scanned the room. X, Cleo, False, even Scar had shown up. He hadn’t expected to see Scar participating. The man had a new outfit, in line with his build theme this season. Grian quite liked it. He’d seen it in passing earlier, which was obvious considering Scar was his neighbor, but he hadn’t really looked at it properly. 

  “Alright,” Grian cleared his throat, looking at everyones expectant faces, “I’ve created a little list of completely unfair and incredibly stupid tasks that are unique to each permit. I will be explaining more once we have finished distributing them, so form a line please. The permits, as you all know, are gray terracotta, cyan, orange and lime glass, so please tell me which permit you would like to compete for.”

  The Hermits quickly lined up, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Grian began handing out the task books according to their requests, most of them competing for the gray terracotta permit. 

  “Hello hello,” greeted Scar, Grian noting the familiar twinkle of the other’s eyes, “I would like the gray terracotta permit please.”

  “Of course—” before Grian could say anything further, he had to cut himself off to cough into his elbow. Shaking his head, Grian picked up the book of tasks of the gray terracotta and handed it to Scar, clearing his throat. 

  “Oh dear,” Scar said, “are you alright Grian? That didn’t sound too good.” The other Hermits nodded in silent agreement.

  “Pshh,” Grian waved him off, coughing again, “I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry about me, worry about Cleo or Cub getting the gray terracotta permit before you do.”

  “Well that you are,” Scar mumbled under his breath without breaking eye contact, Grian raising an eyebrow as the other continued, “but yes! Cleo that permit will be mine. You should forfeit actually.”

  The other Hermits laughed, the slight awkwardness that had formed dissolving instantly. Grian checked his inventory for any health potion that could help keep his slowly approaching cold in check for the duration of the ‘Permit Challenges’ at minimum. He didn’t have any but he knew there was a half used one in his ender chest from earlier in the day so he’d probably go grab that while the others raced to finish their challenges. 

  Soon, he had finished handing out the books. Everyone, at Grian’s direction,  had gone downstairs to wait in the waiting room. He followed Etho down to the waiting room, to be met with a very, very amusing sight. 

  Etho and Grian both looked at the ten Hermits that had piled onto the only chair that was in the waiting room, then looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Etho went up to join them as they all struggled to maintain their balance. Grian nearly folded over in half laughing as he watched Etho join Scar under the chair. The others began laughing as well, looking as Grian nearly on the floor laughing.

  He coughed violently, trying to stop laughing as the others tried to stifle their laughter. Grian cleared his throat, feeling something catch in his throat as Scar wiped a tear from his face. Soon everyone managed to compose themselves and Grian managed to stop coughing before it became too concerning for anyone else. The tingling feeling of something being stuck in his throat didn’t go away, however, much to his annoyance. 

  “ Ahem — okay so,” Grian began, taking out his communicator. “First off, you all look really really stupid so please hold on I must take a picture.”

  Everyone stopped fidgeting as Grian snapped a picture of the precariously balanced group, X and Cub trying not to fall off the chair as he sent it into the general chat of the server. 

  “Okay now,” he clapped his hands, looking at everyone present, “since you all have your tasks with you, let’s go back out so we can get started.” 

  The group promptly tumbled out of the chair and onto the floor, both Etho and Scar yelling in protest as Grian began laughing and coughing at the same time again. Everyone began filing out of the waiting room, Grian waiting to the side as they passed him. 

  Scar was at the end of the line, a bit of a gap between him and the rest of the group. Grian looked at him in confusion as Scar gave him one of his signature (and stupid) smiles. He slung his arm over Grian’s shoulder, who let out a small noise in surprise.

  “Walk with me Grian,” Scar said, the avian leaning into Scar to maintain his balance, “I wanna talk.”

  “If you wanna bribe me for the permits that’s not gonna work Scar,” Grian teased before turning away and coughing into his elbow.

  “Are you feeling alright Gri?” He looked back up at Scar who had concern very visible in his eyes, “you’ve been coughing an awful lot today.”

  “Ah—” Grian cleared his throat, waving his free arm dismissively, “y’know, weather changes and all that. Don’t worry about it, worry about your tasks.”

  Scar frowned and Grian couldn’t really decipher what was going on in the other’s head much to his confusion. He squinted looking at Scar whose expression quickly turned back into the all too familiar grin.

  “Well,” Scar began, as they exited the permit office, both of them squinting due to the sudden change in lighting, “once we’re done with these permit challenges I’m stoppin’ by with some soup for you. Soup always helps fix a cough.”

  “Oh Scar you really don’t have to,” Grian said, breaking free of Scar’s arm around him. He almost felt like going back to stand like that again which was rather stupid to think about. 

  “Well I will,” Scar nodded, “can’t have you all sick now can we?”

  Grian snorted before turning to address the remaining Hermits, Scar joining them. “Okay! So like I said, each permit has different tasks, you must complete all of them and go back to the waiting room. The fastest person wins the permit. You cannot look at the next task before completing the previous task, understood?”

  The Hermits cheered, all excited to start the race. 

  “When I say go, you begin, have fun and— good luck!” he surveyed the crowd, eyes landing on Scar who looked like he was too bored to be there. Grian knew better however, his stomach swooping as Scar winked at him. Odd.

  “Ahem—” Grian coughed into his elbow, “get ready everyone! Ready? Three— two—”

  The Hermits flipped their books open, ready to begin their tasks at Grian’s command. But Grian wasn’t one to do things straightforwardly. 

 “—Two,” he repeated again, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as the others groaned, “—four, three— twoooo— one! Go go go!”

  There were shouts of confusion and flipping of pages as they all read the first task. Scar gasped, Grian looking at him in amusement as the other began spinning in his place. The others joined him, Grian watching Scar’s hat fly off his head midway through. 

  Never did Grian think he’d see a bunch of his fellow Hermits spinning around in the parking lot of the permit office. It’s something he would’ve thought impossible really. If it weren’t for the fact that he is the reason they’re doing it.

  “Okay done!” Scar announced, stumbling towards Grian dizzily. He wore his hat again before flipping the pages to the second task. Grian found himself smiling at the lopsided ‘zookeeper’ hat the other had on. 

  One by one, everyone took off, leaving Grian with only a couple of Hermits. Now that things had calmed down to a certain extent, the avian set up his communicator to show the general chat while he watched the others attempt their tasks. 

  Hours later, they were at the final challenge. Fishing. Grian flew around the area everyone had decided to fish in, quite offended that none of them used his dock. The dock he had built for this . 

  He landed on the soft grass, nearly everyone at the lake now, trying to fish for a non mending book. Grian was a little away from the main group, close enough to be in communication range but at a distance that he could see almost everyone fishing. His cold hadn’t really worsened much to his relief. But the cough persisted, which was rather annoying. 

  The sun was properly up in the sky now, light filtering through the leaves as everyone let out near collective groans every time another fish or miscellaneous item was pulled out. Grian found himself watching Scar, who had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up even further. He didn’t even think that was possible. The shirt was essentially a weird tank top. The sleeves had been pushed to their limit and Scar had decided to leave the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Much to Grian’s confusion, his heart skipped and stomach swooped every time Scar would look his way with his tell tale grin and wave.

  An excited yell from the crowd snapped Grian out of his stupor. He spread his wings, getting ready to fly over to the other end of the crowd before he heard whoever it was yell again. He flew over to see Xisuma looking at the book in his hands like it had personally wronged him.

  “Please tell me that’s not a mending book,” Grian said, barely concealed humor in his voice as he landed. Scar came up to them, a book in his hand, and a triumphant look on his face. 

  Xisuma simply sighed and held the book out for Grian to see. He could feel Scar lean down over his shoulder to see the title of the cover. 

Mending.

  They stared at it in disbelief before bursting into laughter. X buried his face in his hands while the other two laughed. Grian had to lean back into Scar’s shoulder, trying to compose himself. He jerked forward almost immediately however, after realizing what he was doing.

  Grian cleared his throat before handing the mending book to X. “Okay so, since you have fished up a mending book, unfortunately you are now disqualified.”

  Xisuma shook his head in defeat while Grian turned to Scar. “Scar, yours isn’t mending right? If it’s not then you can go down and wait in the waiting room while everyone else gets their books.”

  “It’s Efficiency I!” Scar exclaimed, turning the book around for Grian to see, “also I think I’ll hang around here, I wanna see who gets the other permits. I’m assuming I won the permit right?”

  Grian nodded before indicating where he and Scar can wait and watch. The two of them sat in the grass, waiting for the rest of the participants to complete the final task. The avian felt exhausted now, the toll of all the work he had done in the last 2 days catching up to him. He knew the last task would take a really long time, Grian just didn’t expect it to take this long. Both X and Scar were the first to fish up a book and that itself had taken nearly an hour. He found himself resting his head on Scar’s shoulder, which wasn’t uncommon for him to do. It felt— odd though today. He chalked it up to the stupid cough he was suffering through. 

  “Are you feeling better now, Gri? Or is the cough persisting?” Scar’s concerned voice broke through the sleepy haze that was building around Grian.

  “Mm?” he looked at Scar sleepily, before clearing his throat, “mhm, I’m fine Scar. Don’t worry.”

  Grian could feel the skeptical look Scar was giving him. He didn’t need any concern for this. It was just a cold, a trivial matter. A negligible matter even. The cough would probably be gone by tomorrow. Grian turned to look at Scar who had concern in his eyes.

   Cute.

  Grian frowned at that thought, looking at Scar who seemed to be examining his face with mild concern. Grian looked away from the other and back at the participants just in time to see a couple of others all fish out books of various enchantments.

  He then stood up, his wings nearly slapping Scar in the face as he stretched. Scar was rather amused by this, standing up to join the avian. Grian ignored the burning sensation on the back of his neck, choosing to take the book Cleo had fished up to check whether it was Mending or not.

  “Go with the others to the waiting room,” he said, turning to look back at Scar who took his book out of his inventory, “I’ll be there once the rest of them fish out a book.” 

  Scar nodded and Grian could swear he saw a flash of disappointment in the other’s eyes. He blamed it on his exhaustion playing tricks on him. Because that really made no sense. Grian didn’t get another second to dwell on it, the remaining participants calling for his attention. 

    Nearly two hours later, the Permit Challenges came to an end. Grian finished signing off the permits to their new owners and all but collapsed into his chair. Most of the Hermits had left after he had announced who had won which permit, leaving those who needed his signature. 

  “Man, today was eventful,” Etho said, placing his permit in his inventory, “but wonderful games, Grian, it was awesome.”

  Grian rested his head on the counter, groaning in response. He could hear Etho laugh softly, Scar joining in as well. He was too tired to come up with a response, sitting back up to blink at the other two. 

  “It was super fun,” Scar agreed, “you should get back to your base and sleep Grian. You’ve got that cold coming up and you know how you get when you have a cold. I’ll come over with some soup later if you’d like.”

  Grian cleared his throat, getting rid of the cough that was rising up and shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Scar. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. And don’t go through the trouble of getting soup, I’ll be fine .”

  Scar seemed to be a little displeased by that answer but Grian was way too tired to reassure the other again. He stood up and stretched, cracking his joints until he felt better. 

  “I hate when you do that,” Etho winced, Grian snorting, “it sounds like you’re taking yourself apart and putting it back together.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s why G does it,” Scar added, a twinkle of humor in his eyes as Grian nodded  looking at Etho.

  Etho laughed before bidding farewell to the other two. Grian waved as Etho clipped his elytra on and left the permit office. 

  “And then there were two,” Scar said in what Grian called his ‘announcer voice’, “do you need help with any of the cleanup? Wait no you’re sick you definitely need help with cleanup. What do I have to do? Should I go take down the sandstone fish that are outside? Which by the way, that was smart, I believe you’ve made a good five or six diamonds out of that. Anyways, there’s a mess—”

  “ Scar ,” Grian interrupted, mildly amused at Scar’s rant, “it’s fine, I’m not as sick as you’re making it out to be, it’s barely even a cold, it’s the most minor of coughs. I can deal with the cleanup on my own. I’m sure you have better things to do than this.”

  “Better things than hanging out with Grian?” Scar exclaimed like it was almost offensive to say, “never ever! This is the best thing one can possibly imagine!” 

  Grian blinked, feeling his face flush. He  was suddenly glad that he had installed the dimmest most oxidized copper bulbs in the office. Scar looked at him expectantly, waiting for his response.

  “Well—” Grian pursed his lips together, half his train of thought being occupied by his attempts to stifle his cough, “we could start with the mess in the parking lot? I don’t think we need to deal with the rest really. The dock can stay up and the waiting room doesn’t need more chairs.”

  Scar laughed softly before pulling up the photo of the group Grian had taken earlier that day, “Are you sure about that?”

  “Hmm,” he started, moving out from behind the counter to look at the communicator screen, “yep! Looks all good to me!”

  Grian looked up at Scar who was covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his laugh and grinned. He was then taken by surprise as he found himself being led out of the permit office, Scar’s arm once again around his shoulder. He found himself leaning into the warmth that radiated from Scar. 

  He severely regretted leaving his sweater behind now, the thin green fabric of his uniform doing nothing to protect him from the cold. Grian hated the cold which made him even more appreciative of his current situation. Even if it meant he had to deal with an inexplicably fluttery stomach. 

  “Well, how about we go home right now and come back tomorrow morning to fix this mess? The sun is setting now, we don’t want to be caught in a mob death zone,” Scar suggested with a small grin. Grian looked at the sandstone builds in the parking lot. There weren’t just fish built out of sandstone, there were towers of scaffolding and items strewn everywhere in chests. The thought of having to clear it all up was exhausting enough. 

  Maybe he should’ve made the final task about cleanup. Bit of an oversight on his part really.

 Grian turned away from Scar, coughing into his elbow who retracted his arm a little bit. He tried clearing his throat of the feeling that something was stuck but to no avail. Grian could feel Scar rubbing light— almost feather-like— circles onto his back. 

  A minute or so later, it passed, Grian’s throat feeling sorer than ever now. He could feel a headache coming on as a result of this cold forming. Scar’s eyes trained at the back of his head didn’t provide much help either.

  “Um—” Grian began, unsure of how to break the silence.

  “We’re taking you home,” Scar said, cutting Grian off, “I don’t think you should fly. Let’s walk till the main shopping district bits and steal Bdubs’ horse.”

  He blinked, looking at Scar who— to his surprise, had a no-nonsense look on his face. The kind that Grian rarely got to see. The kind that he knew meant Scar would not be taking no for an answer. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying however. Obviously.

  “But I prefer flying,” Grian pouted slightly, looking up at the dusky sky, “it’s not even fully night yet. No risks!”

  Scar simply stared at him, expression softening a little as Grian rolled his eyes in acceptance. They were going to have to walk for a bit. Grian offered his arm to Scar, a rush of giddiness filling him as Scar accepted it. He was going to have to look into what this rollercoaster his stomach and heart seemed to be taken every so often meant. Grian couldn’t think of any logical reason really. But that was a problem for future Grian. Current Grian was being walked through the forest that intentionally separated the main shopping district from the permit office.

  As it turned out, Gem had left her horse in the shopping district, a message coming up on both their communicators as they exited the forest. Grian had sent her a reply letting her know that he and Scar would return it to her once they reached Grian’s base. Scar had refused to let him even steer the horse, citing his ‘horrible, awful cough’. Personally, Grian thought it was really not that serious and all Scar was doing was making a mountain out of an ant hill. 

  But he didn’t argue to appease Scar and also because Grian really wanted to just get home and sleep. Preferably before his cough makes it too difficult to sleep soundly. Which reminded him that he was going to need to start brewing a bunch of health potions. He could buy them from the shopping district, technically, but that meant people finding out he’s buying them and that mean Grian would have to explain that he had a cold to way too many people. 

  Grian did not want that. 

  Within minutes, they were at Grian’s fishing hut, where he had set up base temporarily. Until he finished the interior of his house on the mountain that is. If he finished it. But the fishing hut did well and Grian found it quite comfortable. Even if Mumbo sometimes said otherwise. 

  “You can keep the horse here,” Grian said, taking the lead from Scar who was equipping his elytra, “Gem’s right over the bridge. It’s late for you as well.”

  “Grian it’s barely eight in the evening,” Scar said, in what Grian considered to be his ‘announcer’ voice, “we have the whole night ahead of us! Well, I do, you have a good night’s sleep ahead of you.”

  “Oh,” Grian scrunched his nose in mild disappointment, “but I wanted to fish for my mending book.”

  “No.”

  He turned to give Scar a deadpan look only to snort in laughter at Scar’s attempt at a stern face. Grian covered his mouth with his hand, failing to stop the laughter escaping him. Scar placed a hand on his chest, looking offended. Grian would’ve been inclined to believe that he was really offended if Scar’s eyes didn’t betray him.

  “ Grian! ” Scar exclaimed in mock offense, “how dare you laugh at my face. I look gorgeous, thank you very much.”

  That only made Grian laugh harder, making him lean against Gem’s horse as he gasped for air. Scar simply shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

  “Okay ahem — um—,” Grian started, trying to compose himself, “leave the horse here I’ll walk it over the bridge in a bit. You get home now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Stupid like what?” Scar leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows. Usually, Grian would return the action, in order to tease Scar. Today however, he stuttered, hesitated before going to lean forward, narrowing his eyes. Which was odd. This type of banter was natural between him and Scar and Grian knew that. 

  “Well y’know,” he replied, ignoring the confusion that raced in his mind and was mirrored in Scar’s eyes for a millisecond, “you tend to do stupid things like uh— die.”

  “Hey now!” Scar protested, “all my actions are perfectly well thought out.”

  “Even dying?”

  “ Especially dying.”

   Grian rolled his eyes and looked up at Gem’s horse. “I should probably return this guy to Gem now, or at least keep him in my stable until I can.”

  Scar nodded before stepping back from the horse and Grian. “I too should get going unfortunately. See you tomorrow, Gri?”

  “ Well —” he said, looking at his feet and whistling.

  “I hate you,” Scar declared. Grian stuck his tongue out in response. 

  Scar fired a rocket, taking off into the sky with a flash of gunpowder. Grian looked up at the sky, watching him fly over to his base in the distance. Scar’s base wasn’t too far from Grian’s, a silhouette of it in the far distance, its outline almost always present. The only thing in between was Mumbo’s town that he was building into the side of the mountain. 

  Gem’s horse whinnied, clearly unhappy at being kept away from its stable for so long. Grian looked at the horse then back at Scar’s flying form in the distance before leading the horse towards the bridge to Gem’s.

  A couple of days later, Grian’s cough hadn’t really gotten better. It had been worsening on the contrary. Scar had taken it upon himself to deliver soup whenever he could. Grian tried to send it back every time he caught Scar trying to leave it on his doorstep. With a minimal success rate.

  Grian, in an attempt to control his incoming cold, stuck to relatively minor tasks for the week. Fishing for his book, restocking his shop with items he had gathered beforehand, helping Mumbo with some designing and so forth. He went down to help Etho with the game he was building in the shopping district. Grian even managed to get a bit of his interior done. 

  Scar for some reason cited all of these activities as major tasks. Grian found himself wanting Scar to stay back more often, whenever he would stop by with another bowl of soup. He found him subconsciously taking note of how Scar’s eyes lit up when he laughed or how his offended looks never had malice behind them, the subtlest of mischief in them.

  Grian assumed it was to do with how clingy he tended to get when ill. It was a trend he noticed with Mumbo, and knowing how his cough was progressing, it wouldn’t be too long until he had a fever and was clinging to the first friend that he found.

  Another thing Grian found essentially undesirable.

  One day, about four days into Grian’s cough showing up to torment him, he decided to go to the Nether. Grian needed blaze rods if he wanted to make health potions and save his diamonds. And public image really. 

  So Grian gathered his armor and sword and flew up to his Nether portal. Only to meet Scar standing in front of it. 

  “Grian!” Scar greeted, “you’re meant to be resting!”

  “Well—” Grian tried edging past Scar, the scent of spruce mixed with ash filling his senses. A smell that he had grown to associate with Scar. “I really need to get some resources from the Nether y’know? Besides, a little cough can’t stop me.”

  Scar stared at Grian, contemplation clear on his face. Grian shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking back at Scar who hummed.

  “Well you can go only if I come with you,” Scar said finally, turning around to face the portal. 

   “What—” Grian was— confused to say the least. What confused him even further is when his heart skipped a beat when Scar looped his arm around Grian’s, leading him to the portal.

  “So where are we headed?”

  Hours later, that involved only about three mild coughing fits, Scar nearly losing his things in the lava, and being chased by a hoglin, did Grian and Scar emerge triumphant from the Nether. They both had collected enough resources to last them both for a while. Especially the blaze rods.

  “Well,” Scar began, the two of them now at Grian’s wheat farm, “this is where we part ways.”

   Grian’s breath hitched as Scar placed a hand on his head. Only to squawk in defense as his hair was tousled. He then bid farewell to Scar as he coughed into his fist. The coughing had become so frequent that Grian had begun to consider it a part of his regular routine. Although it was quite inconvenient, he had grown to ignore it for the most part.

  His horse was missing from its stable again. Which was a likely thing to happen. Grian couldn’t care about the horse anymore. However there was a different horse near his stable. Which he recognized to be Gem’s horse. Sending Gem a quick text on his communicator letting her know that he’d be coming over to return the horse, Grian went to find a lead.

  On his way back from Gem’s, a pumpkin pie replacing the lead in his hands, Grian realized his cough had subsided a little bit. The soreness in his throat was still very present but he hadn’t coughed more than once in the past hour much to his relief. 

  Maybe thinking about it jinxed it because the moment Grian entered his hut, a cough began to tickle his throat. He found himself in the middle of a coughing fit, his body physically unable to stop as he leaned against his bedpost for support. It was as if there was something stuck in his throat that his body had to expel. 

  He blindly reached out into his inventory looking for water, spots forming in his eyes. Grian’s fingers closed around the bottle, bringing it to his lips. The water helped clear the itch in his throat, eyes watering from the pain in his chest. 

  A couple of very painful minutes later, Grian found himself dazedly sitting on the floor. The cool glass of the water bottle helped keep him grounded as he gathered himself. His head pounded, tiny spots forming in his vision. Nausea swirled in his gut as Grian searched his pockets for a napkin he could use. 

  He hated falling sick. Even a common cold could make him feel like he was on the brink of death. Misery all around. 

  Grian drew his knees close to his chest, wings curling and wrapping around his body. With one hand he fished out a tiny cloth napkin, feeling another cough creep up his throat.

  His cough was violent, it felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to many parts of his throat. Grian spat something into the napkin, and assumed it was phlegm as he curled into a tighter ball around himself trying to get it to stop. 

  After a couple of seconds that felt like hours, the cough stopped long enough for Grian to open his eyes. Long enough for him to stare at the previously white cloth that he had been using as a handkerchief. 

  What he thought was phlegm lay on the napkin was in fact spots and flecks of the one thing he didn’t expect.

   Blood.

Chapter Text

  Grian stared at the napkin in shock.  Surely coughing up blood meant nothing, right? Right? He had a simple cold, and seeing blood was definitely not normal. Unless it— was? He wasn’t really sure to be honest. The last time he had this bad of a cold was— quite some time ago. Usually he was just miserable and didn’t really cough up blood . 

  A knock at his door made Grian jump out of surprise. He quickly wiped his mouth of any possibly remaining traces of blood and stuffed the napkin out of sight. Whoever was at the door knocked again just as he reached the door, rechecking to make sure that nothing looked out of the ordinary.

  Scar stood outside, a bowl of— something—  in his hands. Grian looked up at the other who hovered in the doorway, hair messy from flying. Scar’s windswept hair was something Grian found almost endearing, the way he managed to get it messier than every other Hermit combined while flying. He also found himself wanting to fix it immediately.

  “Grian!” Scar exclaimed, Grian shuffling backwards as he brought himself back to the present and away from Scar’s hair. “How’ve you been doing? I hope the coughing has subsided a little, it sounded a bit better as we left the Nether, but I know you better than that so I’ve brought soup!”

   I know you better than that . 

  Grian felt his heart race at that statement, the spiky feeling in his throat easing up a bit. He cleared his throat, cheeks flushing. Grian checked over his shoulder to see if there was any proof of his coughing fit before stepping back to let Scar in. If Scar knew he had coughed up blood, Grian wasn’t too sure what would happen but definitely did not need to know Scar’s reaction to that. 

  His illness and problems were his and his only. There was no need to concern or bother anyone else with it. And it was just a bad cold. Grian knew this. 

  Scar stood in the middle of the room, head barely scraping the ceiling as Grian pushed away blueprints and notes from the tiny dining table he owned. 

  “Sorry about the mess,” he apologized as Scar placed the bowl on the table, “I don’t usually have visitors to this house.”

  “Pshh—” Scar waved him off, “don’t stress too much about it! It’s completely normal to have this many blueprints all over the place! Plus I bet your actual house up there is much more organized.”

  “Well—” Grian winced, thinking about the mess that awaited him in his house on the mountain, “you could say that—”

  Scar snorted, shaking his head and giving him that stupid stupid smile that made Grian’s stomach feel like it was on a ride in Scarland. He cleared his throat, and turned away to look for smaller bowls. Grian could feel Scar looking at the back of his head and chose not to turn back around until he knew he looked less like a tomato. 

  Bowls and spoons in hand, Grian turned back to Scar who was seated at the dining table now. He could feel the itch in his throat begin to rise and it took everything in Grian’s power to swallow anything and everything that could possibly happen as a result of him coughing. 

  The last thing he needed was not Scar seeing any remnants of his last coughing fit, but having Scar actually witness any of it happening. That would be very decidedly not good. He knew if he spoke more than three sentences his throat would give out, so he poured the soup into both their bowls before looking at Scar.

  “Tell me your plans for your base,” Grian said, before taking a sip of the soup. He almost forgot what he had just said, flavor exploding in his mouth as he stared at his spoon in shock. Scar laughed, Grian looking up at the other before looking back at the soup.

  “Holy mother of cheese ,” he said, before looking at Scar’s bowl, “Scar I’ve decided I don’t want to share any of this. I’ve also decided that you’ll be showing me how to make this.”

  Grian looked at Scar, expression dead serious, watching as the other burst into laughter, an amused twinkle in his green eyes. He could feel a smile pulling at his lips as Scar covered his mouth, unable to stop laughing. 

  He felt his insides near melting at the sight of Scar absolutely losing it at the most mundane thing possible. The other’s expression made Grian want to keep making Scar laugh, the sound almost magical to his ears. He wasn’t sure why he felt like this, but Grian definitely didn’t want it to stop by any means. 

  Scar looked down at the table in an attempt to calm himself, Grian hiding his grin by taking another sip of the soup. 

  “ Ahem ,” Scar cleared his throat, cheeks red, “let’s ignore that. You wanted to know about my plans for this season?”

  Grian sat up straighter, nodding, Scar’s laugh still echoing in his ears. He ignored the burning feeling on his ears as Scar began detailing plans for the zoo he wanted to create. Grian didn’t say anything throughout, only giving out the occasional noise of interest to let Scar know he was listening.

  Scar’s eyes had a sparkle in them as he described exactly what his vision was. Grian found it mesmerizing, nodding along as each plan was laid out in front of him. 

  “—and yeah!” Scar concluded, eyes as bright as the stars outside, “I’m a bit worried I may have bitten off more than I can chew but y’know what? I don’t care because I’m really excited for this season.”

  “That’s wonderful Scar,” Grian said quietly, still focusing on the way Scar’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and the way his face shone with excitement for his plans, “I’m super excited to visit the zoo— even though I know I’d get the first ticket, obviously.”

  Scar laughed before nodding, “well yes, obviously, I’ll even get you a VIP ticket.”

  “VIP?” 

  “Yes, the special tour given by yours truly,” Scar winked. Grian felt his face flush as he laughed, before that familiar tickle of a cough began to reappear. He frantically cleared his throat, getting rid of the feeling before anything could rise.

  “Well,” Scar clapped his hands and stood up, “I should get going now, lots of work to do tomorrow for my train.”

  Grian was torn between feeling disappointed that Scar was leaving and relieved because he didn’t want the man to see any sign of blood. He settled on sighing dramatically to avoid any sort of suspicion. 

  “Who’s gonna make me more soup now?” he lamented, shaking his head slowly as Scar snorted, “I’m going to die hungry, devoid of good food.”

  “Don’t worry Grian,” Scar patted him on his head, jumping back in amusement as a wing came out to smack at him, “I’ll get you soup tomorrow if you’d like.”

  He grinned before handing Scar his hat. “Absolutely. I expect soup on a weekly basis at minimum now.”

  Scar laughed and Grian caught himself leaning towards the sound, soaking in the joy in his laugh. He bid farewell to the man, who equipped his elytra and took off towards the train.

  Grian felt the energy that had filled his base drain immediately. The clock chimed twelve as he dragged himself over to the dining area to clean up. He couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened. Not about Scar bringing him soup or talking to him about his plans for the season. 

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Scar .  

  The way he would laugh at Grian’s jokes, the way his eyes would shine while talking about topics he was interested in. Everything. It was the only thing in Grian’s mind as he cleaned up.

  Just Scar.

  Grian had no idea or even a sliver of a theory as to why he kept making the smallest of observations about Scar and treating that information like it was the most necessary information needed. He wasn’t allowed to ponder the subject about the twinkle in Scar’s eyes further, however, the cough that he had pushed down earlier traveled back up before he had a chance to stifle it.

  Pain shot through his chest almost like it was being ripped apart. His throat burned and spots danced in his eyes. Grian curled up on the floor, shaking slightly as the coughing fit subsided. He tasted copper on his lips, hissing in pain. 

  He clenched and unclenched his fists, wings flaring, breathing heavily as he tried to ground himself. His vision was blurry, glasses lost somewhere on his floor. Grian patted around blindly, shaking as he located his glasses. Swallowing heavily, he sat up, the world around him swimming, throat stinging and prickling.

  Grian brought his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead against them. He felt the tiniest bit of calmer now, save for the near excruciating pain that was wrapping around his lungs. A thousand questions ran through his mind. What triggered this sort of sickness? Why was it progressing so rapidly? Why were the coughing fits so bad? Why could he not stop thinking about Scar? 

  Well technically the last question was unrelated. Thinking about Scar obviously wasn’t related to him coughing up blood. Although it was oddly timed to both happen in the same time frame. Different problems and different questions really.

  Once Grian trusted his legs to not give way upon standing up and his lungs to not turn themselves inside out within ten minutes, he pushed himself upright and standing. His fishing hut was not built for long term stays if he were to be ill. It was built purely for his mending book expedition. There were the most minimal medical supplies, most of which were already consumed or used in the last couple of days since this sickness began. 

  He gathered everything he needed from the fishing hut and stored it safely in his inventory before stepping outside. Cold air hit his face as he closed the door behind him, the distinctive smell of fish causing him to wrinkle his nose. Grian may have spent months fishing but he still wasn’t used to the smell of fish and his countless barrels with fish were only contributing to the smell.

  The moon was bright enough for him to see everything ahead of him as he walked away from the fishing hut, gravel crunching under his boots. Grian barely had any energy left, but he knew if he wanted any chance at getting better he needed to be up in his actual house with all his supplies. 

  He stretched and flexed his wings, wincing a little as another sharp pain shot through his chest. Taking a deep breath, Grian took flight, wind whistling past his ears. It always felt wonderful to fly, everytime he took to the skies, a rush of adrenaline filled his system.

  Instead of directly flying into his house, Grian decided to take a loop around his base, feeling the cool air on his wings. It made him feel a bit better than he was feeling earlier, as flying usually did. But he knew that he didn’t have the energy to fly for too long, landing shortly after.

  He coughed as he opened the door, this time due to the dust that met him. Grian knew he had neglected this house for a while, in pursuit of the mending book. A fine layer of dust covered everything in sight. Thankfully he did have the foresight to cover most things with a cloth. His bed and dining table were safe from the dust. The same couldn’t be said about his enchanting setup unfortunately, the bookshelves dusty and grimy from neglect. Grian decided cleanup would be a problem for tomorrow Grian, instead going to look for the important items— a Regeneration II potion and a Health II potion. Also a cup of tea. Obviously. 

  Grian set the tea to boil, placing the shining potion bottles on the table. He needed to also take inventory of how many supplies he had to make multiple bottles of these potions because he’d be damned if he was buying any of that from the shopping district. He knew multiple Hermits had seen him coughing back in the Permit Challenges event and not to mention Scar who had technically seen what they would consider the worst of it. He would not be taking any risks. No one could know how ill he was. They simply couldn’t. 

  His illness and problems were his and his only. This was something Grian stood by. Even though Pearl has said otherwise. And Joel. And Gem. And everyone else he knew really.

  Grian took the Health potion first, letting the magic wrap its tendrils around his system, hopefully fixing what was wrong. He poured his tea into a mug, sipping it slowly as the potion eased the sharp pains a little bit. Once he finished his tea, he took the Regeneration potion. 

  Regen was stronger than Health, proven by its complex recipe as well. Grian knew it was not advisable to take both of them at the same time, even if he was breaking the doses up with the cup of tea. But he needed to get into a better shape if he wanted to get any of his work done and figure out what was wrong with him. 

  So he settled into bed, the Regeneration potion numbing most of his pain, much to his relief. The occasional stab of pain got through however, his wings puffing up everytime. Grian felt tired and frazzled, the clock on his nightstand indicating it was nearly dawn. Sleep pulled at his eyes while the pain pulled him away from sleep. He was exhausted by the mysterious illness that had begun to take root in his body, by the pain in his chest and the questions in his head. 

  Eventually, sleep won over the pain, the regeneration and health potion combination leading to minimal pain and the occasional cough as Grian drifted off to sleep.

   The regeneration potion lasted long enough for Grian to get five hours of interrupted sleep. The pain and coughing hadn’t gone completely, but he would take what he got. Even if he felt ten times more tired and frazzled than the night before.

  He woke up feeling incredibly miserable and wanted nothing more than to sit in bed all day. Which he probably should do. Each cough felt like lightning was hitting his chest and when he stood up, his knees could barely handle it. 

  But Grian made the executive decision to take another Regen potion and go on with his day, Health potions in his inventory. Surely that wasn’t a bad idea. Surely. 

  His list of tasks was never ending, Grian realized as he glided around the base, looking at what needed to be built today. Not only did he have work at the base, he had to build a proper prismarine shop as well. The Permit Office was planning on doing a crackdown on pop up shops to encourage proper shops once the newly distributed permits were given enough time.

  He decided to gather all the materials needed for his projects before he started anything. So Grian took out a book and quill and landed on the roof of his house. He surveyed the land from there and began to write.

   The shopping district was surprisingly busy as Grian flew over it, inventory full of empty shulkers and diamonds to buy whatever he could. He spotted Mumbo and grinned, descending before landing silently behind the man. 

  Mumbo was surveying a new building in front of his gold shop and Grian nearly gasped in awe as he read IRON. This seemed to be Mumbo’s iron shop and it was gorgeous . Grian was so distracted by the absolute stunner of a build that he nearly forgot why he was behind Mumbo in the first place. 

  “Hmmm— oh! Goodness me Grian!” Mumbo exclaimed, Grian jumping slightly at that before grinning wide. “You startled me! I think I’m gonna have a heart attack if you keep this up mate.”

  “Good morning Mumbo!” he greeted, and only then did Grian realize how horrible his voice sounded. It was like his vocal chords were made of sandpaper covered in gravel and roasted in the desert during a hot Sunday afternoon.

  Mumbo seemed to notice too, eyebrows raising in alarm. “Are you okay Gri? You sound pretty awful if I’m being honest.”

  Grian coughed into his elbow before shaking his head, “Eh– y’know, just a little cold. You know how it gets.”

  “I don’t think that’s a little cold mate, you sound like you had a cheese grater for breakfast.” Damn Mumbo for being too observative. 

  “Trust me,” Grian cleared his throat, “see! All okay now.”

  He most definitely didn’t sound anywhere near okay. Mumbo furrowed his eyebrows, concern flashing in his eyes. Grian prayed that Mumbo wouldn’t push and thankfully, he didn’t.

  “Anyways!” Grian exclaimed, coughing lightly, “what is the marvelous beautiful absolutely gorgeous build in front of me that has ‘this was made by Mumbo Jumbo’ all over it?”

  Mumbo’s face turned a bright red as Grian stepped closer to the building, looking at each detail on the wall in front of him.

  “Ah— well— um— it’s not that lovely looking really— I do have to make some changes and— I know it’s not perfect yet—”

  “Mumbo, are you insane?” Grian spun around to look at Mumbo in disbelief, “this? You’re saying this isn’t perfect or lovely? Mate it’s one of the best builds I’ve seen ever. I love it.”

  “Oh—” Mumbo turned a deeper shade of red, fiddling with his thumbs, “thank you Grian that means a lot.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short man,” Grian shook his head, before looking over Mumbo’s shoulder to see Etho once again buying all the gold from Mumbo’s other shop. “Hey Etho! C’mere, isn’t Mumbo’s iron shop absolutely lovely?”

  Mumbo sputtered as Etho walked over, shulker box of gold disappearing into his inventory. Even Etho stopped to stare at the building for a good moment, Mumbo looking at him anxiously.

  “Oh wow,” was all Etho had to say before looking at Mumbo, “Mumbo you are insane. Grian’s right, this is quite lovely indeed.”

  Mumbo sputtered a bit more, Etho laughing a little before bidding farewell to the two. 

  “Is the iron shop done yet?” Grian continued, once Etho left, “can I go in to buy some?”

  “It’s not fully done,” Mumbo admitted, “I was testing out some things with the lift but you can use it. Come, I’ll show you how it is inside, I quite like it.”

  Grian proceeded to have his mind blown for the second time that day, the interior of Mumbo’s shop just as beautiful. He had created a replica of an iron mine and it was the coolest thing ever, Grian almost felt like he was in an actual mine. He nearly had to smack Mumbo multiple times to get him to admit that the building was beautiful. 

  As they exited the shop, Grian felt that familiar feeling of a coughing fit travel up his throat. He tried clearing his throat, coughing into his elbow. After a moment of attempting to cough discreetly, the feeling passed and he sighed in relief.

  Mumbo was looking at him with that concerned look again. Grian would always joke that even his mustache would slant downwards like it was frowning. He didn’t think he should make that joke right now. Mumbo knew Grian like the back of his own hand. The only other person who could possibly know him as well was Pearl. The two of them could read Grian like an open book. 

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Mumbo said, and Grian swore he saw fear in Mumbo’s eyes, “I know you aren’t G.”

  “It’s just a cold,” he said, voice emotionless because he knew Mumbo wouldn’t be taking anything other than the truth for the answer. He didn’t need to burden his friend with the unnecessary concern that came with Grian’s always fluctuating health.

  A flicker of disappointment flashed in Mumbo’s eyes and it almost had Grian reaching out to apologize. But he refrained, for reasons unknown. In the distance behind Mumbo, he could vaguely see Scar coming to a horrible landing, nearly dying from fall damage.

  “Is it?”

  Grian looked Mumbo in the eyes, at the swirling confusion, concern and worry. He swallowed down a cough and the truth and nodded. 

  “Don’t worry Mumbo,” he reassured the other weakly, “I’ll be fine in a week.”

  Mumbo pursed his lips, Grian fidgeted with the hem of his sweater, his throat tickling with the inevitable coughing fit. He felt horrible lying to Mumbo but he knew it’d be worse if Mumbo knew. The man was a chronic worrier and Grian did not need to be an additional bother. His illness wasn’t even that serious anyways.

  “If you say so,” he said unconvincingly, “take care please, Gri, okay? We have to build our wart shop, you can’t die on me before that.”

  “Pshh—” Grian laughed, although weakly, “I’m not gonna die on you, Mumbo. It’s just a cough. Trust me.”

  “Alright—” He knew Mumbo wasn’t convinced in the slightest but he was glad the man dropped the subject. He bid farewell to his mustached friend and took off into the sky. 

  Grian wasn’t too sure what items he should go for first, settling on flying round the shopping district looking at each and every shop there was. He opened his inventory log on his communicator mid air, as he usually did. He slowly flew around the ugly portal building that the permit office should probably order be taken down. This was normal for Grian to do, so he didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings as he pondered over what item to start with. 

  That was his first mistake.

  “ Grian!”  

  <Grian hit the ground too hard>

  <Goodtimewithscar hit the ground too hard>

  Grian woke up instantly in his base, respawning working as expected. Or so he thought. He got out of bed before crumpling to the floor as it hit him. Pain exploded in his chest and throat, spots dancing in his eyes. The feeling that was becoming familiar by the day clawed its way up Grian’s throat as he gagged and choked. He felt his throat constrict and tighten as he retched. Eyes blurry with tears, the only thing he could find himself able to do was curl up on the wooden floor, shaking while waiting for the pain to pass.

  After what felt like hours, Grian staggered to his feet, patting his bed blindly for his glasses. Once he could see relatively better, he winced at the sight. His communicator had managed to go all the way to the other side of the room. There was blood on the floor. A lot of it. A terrifying amount. Grian turned to look at the mirror, suspicions confirmed. The white collar of his undershirt had flecks of red on them, the rest of the blood being hidden by the red wool of his sweater. 

  Grian coughed into his fist, feeling as though he had dragged sandpaper all over his vocal chords. He washed away the blood on his face and changed out of the blood covered clothes, trying to look for any other indication as to why he was coughing out blood. His floor looked like a crime scene even though Grian was certain he hadn’t coughed out that much blood.

  He walked over to his communicator to see how he had really died. 

  <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> grian im so sorry i didnt see you im sos so sorry

 <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> i respawned in the shoppin district but i thin k u respawned in your base 

  <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> grian?

  <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> oh my god are you alright?

  <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> grian?

  <Goodtimewithscar whispered to you> im coming over

  <MumboJumbo whispered to you> you fell pretty badly r u ok

 <MumboJumbo whispered to you> i have ur things have you respawned at ur base

  <MumboJumbo whispered to you> gri?

  <MumboJumbo whispered to you> grian.. 

   <MumboJumbo whispered to you> im coming over

  Uh oh.

  Grian ran to his storage chests, looking for a carpet or rug that he could throw onto his floor to hide the evidence. He looked outside his window to see Scar land in front of Mumbo who was standing outside the fishing hut. Quickly, he stuffed his blood covered clothes under the bed and laid out the really dusty rug over the drying blood. Clearing his throat and wiping all traces of blood from his face and hands, Grian was ready to receive Scar and Mumbo as though he wasn’t coughing out the Red Sea moments prior.

 He took a sip of water, soothing his throat enough to sound like he had when he was talking to Mumbo earlier. Because that was the closest to a normal voice that he could get right now. 

  Even though he was expecting them, the rapid knocks at the door had Grian nearly jump out of his skin. He schooled his face into the least panicked most resting after respawning face he could muster. He went and placed his communicator facedown on a chair furthest from his bed. Then Grian opened the door, just as Mumbo had raised a fist to knock again.

  The two barged (literally) into his house, Mambo grabbing him by the shoulders and examining him, mustache twitching as he took note of Grian’s appearance. Scar on the other hand inspected Grian’s bed. Grian could only pray that no blood got onto the bed sheet. After Mumbo finished giving him a concerned look over, it was Scar’s turn.

  Which was somehow thrice as worse than Mumbo’s. With Mumbo, the only indicator of emotion was his mustache. Scar muttered apologies as he inspected Grian’s face with the gentlest of touches.

  He could feel his ears burning as Scar hugged him tightly, apologizing for colliding into him.

  “I collided?” Grian asked, confused, “I thought I just forgot to actually continue flying and fell.”

  “Yeah! I’m so so sorry Grian, I genuinely hadn’t seen you coming, I would’ve slowed down if I did!”

  Grian simply stared at Scar straight in the eyes, primarily because Scar had held his face in such a way that he had a full view of Scar’s face. Every bit of perfection that Grian could see was taken and noted like he needed that information later. He didn’t know why his nose and ears burned as Scar looked at him. Scar was one of his best friends for void’s sake! 

  But he almost— longed— for Scar to turn back and look at him like that again and again until Grian had an answer as to why he felt like this. Why his stomach swooped when Scar laughed, why his ears resembled tomatoes when he was up next to Scar, why he just felt so— like that . 

  Scar pulled Grian into a hug apologizing profusely, the latter’s wings flaring out behind him in surprise before they settled down. Warmth engulfed Grian as he practically melted into Scar’s arms.The discomfort in his throat began easing up slowly. The hug felt familiar, comfortable, safe.  Not quite like how Mumbo’s hugs would make him feel, these were different. Grian wasn’t too into initiating hugs unless it was Mumbo. Because it was Mumbo. Obviously. 

  The moment Scar let go of him, Grian wished he hadn’t, the feeling of comfort and safety disappearing immediately. His wings wrapped around him trying to replace that feeling. Grian remembered the blood and made sure everything was still hidden. Mumbo noticed him looking around and gave Grian a questioning look.

  Grian shook his head and Mumbo, bless him, didn’t push any further. 

  “I appreciate you guys coming over,” he began, voice scratchy, “but I’m fine really. It’s all okay, I’m okay. You could’ve just messaged if everything was alright.”

  “We did!” Mumbo exclaimed, before looking around the base, “look here you’ve got your communicator on the floor— oh dear, do you not clean it ever Grian?”

   Shit . He hadn’t accounted for the communicator getting hit with some of the blood. Fortunately, Mumbo assumed it was some sort of unrelated event. Grian quickly took the communicator out of Mumbo’s hands, the other two looking at him with confusion clear on their faces.

  “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to get to that,” he said, trying to sound more sheepish and less like he had many things to hide. Scar seemed to deem that an acceptable answer, nodding along. Mumbo nodded hesitantly, and Grian knew, just like a little while ago, Mumbo had done everything but accept that as a reasonable explanation.

  “Okay well,” Scar began, “Gri, I know you’re kinda sick right now so please let us know if you need anything. We will be at your doorstep in minutes!”

  “Pshh—” Grian waved him off, stifling a cough, “don’t worry about me, although— did you guys pick up my stuff?”

  The other two exchanged a glance as Mumbo slapped his forehead. Scar placed down a couple of shulker boxes much to Grian’s relief. He had all this good gear on him when he fell so losing all of that wouldn’t have been very fun and would’ve set back his goals for the day by a milestone.

  “I completely forgot about that,” Scar admitted, Mumbo and Grian both laughing at that as Grian took all his stuff from the boxes. He thanked the other two for retrieving his stuff and coming to check on him. He waved off Scar’s apologies and gave Mumbo a reassuring smile. Even if every fiber in his being knew Mumbo knew something was wrong and that Grian was hiding something despite everything.

  Once they left and Grian was alone again, he slowly pulled the carpet away from the floor, cringing at the way the carpet now was stained as well. His chest felt like tiny little needles were stabbing at him with more intensity compared to earlier in the day before he collided with Scar. He felt significantly dizzier and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth was prominent. Grian got down to cleaning out the floor, choosing to dispose of the now blood stained carpet.

  He thought of how his cough was making him cough up so much blood. Which couldn’t be normal, right? Joel had a library in his city, so did Keralis as far as Grian could recall. He was going to have to do some snooping because asking was going to lead to more questions for him. Which wasn’t too ideal. But then again, what was a book going to tell him that he couldn’t tell himself? It wasn’t like there was anything odd going on other than the obvious, aka the blood.

  So Grian decided to finish cleaning all traces of blood and move on with his day. Since there wasn’t anything else he could possibly do. He did take Regeneration and Health potions for safe measure. After loading all the empty shulker boxes into his inventory, he decided to do the difficult item gathering first.

  Concrete.

   As it turned out, having many coughing fits and a horrible headache paired with chest pain was not ideal for gravel gathering. Grian took hours and hours to finish gathering the amount of gravel that he would need. And that was only for gravel. 

  He stared at the now full boxes of concrete, contemplating whether it was worth going sand gathering or to just buy out the sand shop in the shopping district. As another cough began to claw up his throat, the taste of copper nearly permanent now, he decided to just buy every single block of sand that was in the shopping district. 

  On the way back, he met Etho and Bdubs who were poring over a map together. 

  “Oh hey Grian,” Bdubs greeting, “what are you up to today? And will you be able to do me a favor?”

  “Um—,” he raised an eyebrow, looking at the two, “well I was resource gathering— but sure—?”

  “Oh you were already gathering? Perfect.” Bdubs seemed to be very pleased and Etho just looked incredibly amused. Grian had a feeling he was about to regret saying yes to Bdubs.

  Bdubs dragged Grian and Etho to the nearest swamp for gathering things he was going to need later on in his build. He initially didn’t mind, until Grian remembered why he avoided the swamps.

  The swamps were humid and sticky, which made Grian quite unhappy. The three of them took out their axes and got to work looking for the familiar greenish bark of mangrove wood. He had always avoided coming to these types of biomes as much as possible, the humidity something he did not want to deal with. They were awful for his hair and his wings and just his mood in general. If he ever needed mangrove wood he would just go through someone’s storage. The undeniably easier option.

  Treading through the mud, he could hear Etho telling Bdubs that the latter owed both of them big time and snorted. Grian began chopping down the mangrove tree and storing it in the shulker box he had been given by Bdubs. 

  After what felt like hours, they had gathered enough wood for all three of them. Grian had tried to stifle his cough as much as possible whenever Etho or Bdubs were around just in case it turned into a fit. But that came with its repercussions, the pressure in his throat nearly rendering him unable to speak without coughing. 

  After dropping off the shulkers at Bdubs base, he bid farewell to the two and rushed home as fast as he could without falling and crashing. He nearly failed at that, taking loads of damage trying to land at his front door. His head was pounding now, throat clogged as though something was stuck in it.

  The all too familiar tickle began to nag at his throat and this time Grian didn’t try to stifle it. He didn’t think it would be too much of a hassle, forgetting how bad his coughing fits were getting by the hour. It was almost as if his body wanted to expel something lodged in his throat. 

  He hacked and coughed, retched and wheezed. Finally, the coughing fit passed, leaving something— weird, in his mouth. At first, Grian thought it was phlegm, grabbing a napkin to spit it out in. It was only until he spit it out that he realized something was very wrong. 

  In the blood stained napkin, sat something quite unusual. He picked it up with trembling fingers, trying to identify exactly what it was.

  A singular lilac petal was in his hand. He had coughed up a lilac petal. A petal . Grian stared at it in confusion wondering how it came out along with his cough. He remembered thinking about how he might need to find someone with a proper library and realized he definitely needed to now. He couldn’t really go to X about this, it was probably something trivial. 

  Even if coughing up a petal seems rather absurd. Well it was absurd. But maybe it was something Grian ate. It was probably something he ate earlier, he tried telling himself, examining the petal. 

  He coughed again, throat numb from the amount of torture it had gone through in the last week. Grian could almost say he was desensitized to the illness if it weren’t for the way it was progressing. First the blood, then the petal. And Grian had a feeling this petal wasn’t the last. 

  Unless of course, it really was something he forgot he had eaten. Even though he had that slight feeling that this train of thought was just a way of convincing himself all was okay.

  Grian crushed the petal between his fingers, the blood that coated it spreading across his fingers. He coughed, cringing as that familiar feeling returned. Lowering himself to the floor, Grian covered his mouth with the napkin as the coughing fit began. He was learning the symptoms and the signs of an oncoming fit. But that did nothing to minimize the excruciating pain that pierced his chest as though his ribs were puncturing his lungs. 

  Minutes later, eyes blurry and head dazed, Grian curled up on the floor weakly, reaching for the potion bottles in his inventory. The Regeneration potion helped a little bit and Grian couldn’t help but notice that the Regen and Health were becoming less and less effective with each coughing fit. 

  Once his vision cleared, he stared at the napkin, three more purple petals of a lilac sitting almost innocently amidst the flecks of blood. Grian exhaled, feeling panic set in. He might’ve lied to Scar and Mumbo and everyone who asked him how his cold was, but he knew something wasn’t quite right. Even though he hated to admit it. 

  He patted around for his communicator, trying to regulate his breathing. It was just out of reach, much to his annoyance. Grian leaned over to get it, hissing in pain as something sharp shot up his side.

  <Grian whispered to Smallishbeans> can you please send the coords to your library

  He stared at the message before sending another just for good measure.

  <Grian whispered to Smallishbeans> need to check out this building style i heard abt maybe its in the library ?

  Joel replied almost instantly, Grian’s fingers shaking as he hoped the other wasn’t too suspicious of his sudden interest in reading. That was an incredibly real probability considering Grian never really gave away much to do with his interests in general. 

  <Smallishbeans whispered to Grian> yeah sure wont be able to give u a tour of it 2day though :( 

 <Grian whispered to Smallishbeans> thats okay give me a tour some other day i wont snoop around too much 

 <Grian whispered to Smallishbeans> unless i steal smth >:)

  He prayed to the void and everyone possible that Joel wouldn’t call him out on acting too suspicious. Grian coughed into his elbow, gasping at the pain that shot through every fiber of his body. His wings had wrapped around him in an attempt to soothe himself.

  A ping on his communicator indicated that Joel sent the coordinates for his library. Grian slowly got to his feet, exhaustion pulling at his bones, pain piercing his muscles. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to wipe away the sickness that was so clear on his face. 

  His illness and problems were his and his only. Grian would not be bothering anyone else with this problem. He fell sick and it’s up to him to fix himself before anything else goes wrong.

Chapter Text

  Grian flew over to Joel’s library the moment he knew the latter wasn’t around. It wasn’t that he wanted to avoid Joel, he simply did not want anyone to look at him and figure out something was wrong. Especially considering how sickly he seemed to be right now. Mumbo was already suspicious, Joel getting suspicious would mean the two of him at his door within hours. 

  Which wasn’t particularly ideal. At all. Especially considering how Grian’s illness had worsened over the last week. Grian had brought the flower petal along with him, crumpled and crushed. It sat on the table in front of him, almost innocently. 

  He coughed, throat burning. Grian could feel something in his throat, but no matter how hard he coughed, it would not budge. His throat was sore, his chest aching. Everything hurt and Grian couldn’t even drink the potions correctly, his throat so red, so numb and sore that it wouldn’t function at all. 

  There were hundreds and hundreds of books in Joel’s library. When Grian stepped into the building all he could do was stare in awe. Thankfully Joel had told him there would be a paper guide to help him navigate through each of the sections. He had found the guide after a little bit of searching which then helped him figure out where the medicine and disease sections were.

  The paper guide did not warn him, however, in the slightest as to how big the section would be. He cursed Joel out in his head out of awe. The further Grian went the more he was convinced that Joel was a madman and his builds contained more magic than he had ever seen. Well the second half didn’t really need much convincing, he knew what Joel could do. 

  He browsed the sections until he found a big book labelled ‘ Magikal and Rare Diseases of the Universe ’ which— sounded promising enough. Grian was not strong enough to hold it, proven moments later as he found himself flat on the ground, book on top of him.

  The impact did nothing to help the pain in his chest but it did a lot in knocking the wind out of him. He lay on the group, stunned trying to force a cough back down as it clawed at his throat. After a couple of minutes of struggle, he managed to get back up. 

  Grian decided to not move the book to a table and made himself comfortable on the floor. The book was probably two thousand pages and four million words with the way it was equal to a quarter of Grian. Or even more. He opened the book, running a finger down the table of contents.

  The familiar taste of copper began to fill his mouth as Grian turned away from the book and began coughing into his napkin. He felt like something was stuck in his throat and Grian had a slight idea now as to what it might be, suspicions confirmed as he spit it out onto his handkerchief.

  But despite all that, Grian wasn’t sure why. He didn’t even think such a thing was possible. Which was kind of why he found himself in front of the two hundred kilogram, as heavy as thirty anvils, magical disease book. 

  Grian was no stranger to magic. But he never really found himself in need of a book about magic. Not that he was magic. But— he has come across magic— before.

  The table of contents had a tiny little section called “Plants and Foliage”. Grian had nearly missed it as well. Considering he had coughed up a literal flower petal, that seemed to be the best chapter to get his information from. 

  He flipped to the “Plants and Foliage” part of the book, looking at what looked like regular diseases caused by plants in odd situations. Flowers in the wrong soup recipe, moss placed in the wrong area of a build and so on. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

  Then Grian came across the first disease he truly hadn’t ever heard of. 

   ‘HANAHAKI’

  He pursed his lips in thought, looking further down to see the illustration of the disease. Once he realized what he was seeing, Grian nearly shut the book out of horror. It was a drawing of a person, gnarly and gory. It was so intricately detailed Grian couldn’t help but wonder whether the person once knew the person illustrated.

  Flowers were pouring out of the person’s mouth, and something that looked suspiciously like the roots of the flowers tore through their body. Grian found himself both horrified and mesmerized at the artwork. He tore his gaze away from the artwork, choosing to read the description. 

   ‘Hanahaki is a disease caused by unrequited love. By love so strong that the compartmentalization of the feelings manifest themselves into flowers, taking root in the lungs of the lovestruck. How the disease came to be is vastly unknown for Hanahaki is rarer than most diseases. The disease manifests itself in stages, the initial stages so minor the afflicted passes it off as a cough. The disease reaches its first final stage once the first flower comes to bloom.

  Proof of this is the lovestruck coughing or removing flower petals of a certain kind. Each victim in history has had a different type of flower bloom in their lungs. The second stage is higher concentration of petals and eventually full flowers. The full transition from one stage to another is indicated by a higher amount of clumps of petals than previously noted. The transitions are usually not immediate or quick and can take up to a week’s time minimum to move from one stage to another. Once the disease has fully taken root in the victim’s lungs, their fate is sealed. 

  Unrequited love may manifest in multiple ways including if the afflicted is unaware. Hanahaki is a fatal disease with only two people surviving the disease since its first recorded discovery. There are only two known cures, even though one may debate that they are truly cures. The first would be the beloved sharing the affections of the lovestruck and thereby saving the afflicted before it’s too late to save them. The other, admittedly more dangerous than the other, is cutting the flowers out of the afflicted person’s lungs.

  The fatality for this ‘cure’ is a different statistic to the deaths due to Hanahaki disease. Upon forceful removal of the flowers, should the afflicted survive, they will have lost all ability to feel any form of human emotion. Most afflicted with Hanahaki choose to be killed by the disease rather than be void of any humanity and feeling. 

  Hanahaki is one of the rarest plant based afflictions that exist in the history of our universe. Server admins have said to sometimes have the power to conduct the removal of the flowers should the need arise. But that too, is rare. Once flowers have begun to manifest, it is near impossible to rid oneself of the feelings one may have for another.

  Those inflicted with hanahaki in its final stage DO NOT RESPAWN . Regardless of whether respawning is enabled on the server. Whether the respawn limit is unlimited or not. Whether it is set to quite painless or quite painful, the inflicted will NOT respawn. They will be killed and dead forever. Choosing to die of this illness means to be dead forever.

  Cure: majorly unknown. Mutual or reciprocated love may be the afflicted’s only chance at survival. 

 Fatality rate: 99.9%

Symptoms: coughing up blood, weakness, coughing up flower petals or flowers, chest pains, dizziness.

  Author’s note: if you are reading this due to a similarity in symptoms, my sincerest apologies and condolences. I truly am very sorry. Please turn to page 388 for treatment recommendations until you figure out what must be done. If you are reading this for information may you find a love that doesn’t cause you so much agony and pain.’

  Grian traced the handwritten author’s note given at the bottom of the page, staring at the symptoms listed. 

  Unrequited love, that’s what the book said, that flowers have manifested in his body because he was so deeply in love. But— with whom? Who was Grian so in love with that it’s killing him? He could feel a coughing fit coming up, his throat tight and constricting. Grian pushed himself away from the book, wings curling around him as dark spots appeared in his eyes. He began to cough, loud and painful. Blood coated the inside of his mouth, the weird thing in his throat desperate to be unlodged and ejected. 

  Grian coughed violently into his napkin, wincing everytime he could taste blood. Something thin and velvety rolled around in his mouth as he tried to spit it out. On his napkin were five , almost innocent, lilac petals. His head was spinning and the flower petals did the job of confirming what the book said. But what it didn’t confirm was why Grian ? 

  That was one thing he couldn’t figure out. He didn’t even know he was in love with anyone the way the book described it.

  He swallowed thickly, the burning sensation in his chest persistent. Grian didn’t even know who the reason for this ailment was or even could be. Grian never thought of himself to be in ‘love’ before. It wasn’t really something he considered. Although that was mainly because he didn’t think someone would be in love with him. 

  But since he joined the hermits for their seasons, he always found himself caught up with something or the other. With Scar or Mumbo or even Gem. Grian liked reminiscing about his memories with everyone. Especially Scar. Because Scar’s his best friend! He has his happiest memories with Scar. And Mumbo, obviously. Nothing topped the memories he had built with the two of them over the years.

  Grian didn’t know why his brain picked out Scar from each memory to remember. The way Scar’s eyes would crinkle when he laughed or the way his voice would get when talking about something he was passionate about.

  He didn’t know why or when he noticed any of that. Or even if that were normal. His communicator pinged and Grian groaned in response. He stopped groaning when he realized who it was. Scar was inviting him to his base for some advice. 

 < Goodtimeswithscar whispered to Grian> psst would you be able to come to my base in like 30 min? need help :(

   Grian found himself smiling like a stupid idiot. He probably was a stupid idiot. He never smiled when Mumbo or Gem would message him. Why was Scar different? There was no reason for him to be different. To Grian. It was just Scar. Just Scar.

  < Grian whispered to Goodtimeswithscar> omw :D

  He looked back at the book, the illustrations stark and gory. Shutting it, he lugged it into a spot where Joel wouldn’t really come across it until way later. If it wasn’t as heavy as the Ender Dragon then maybe Grian would’ve kept it back. But for now this was good enough. 

  The taste of copper filled his mouth as Grian coughed into his sleeve. The red of his sweater hid the darker specks of blood. Grian knew he had to get to the bottom of this illness, because it couldn’t be this ‘Hanahaki’ thing. Obviously. He didn’t have a crush on anyone. It sounded almost silly to even say. 

  Grian didn’t even know what being in love felt like. 

  His communicator buzzed again with the coordinates at which he had to meet Scar. Which were— Scar’s base coordinates. Grian rolled his eyes in mild amusement before looking for  something to cover the disease book with. He did not need Joel to put two and two together. 

 Grian decided to just shove the book in the gap between the bookshelf and the floor. That seemed like a  natural place to find the books.  After ten minutes of struggling to put the book back, Grian succeeded. Then, as unsuspiciously as he could, even though there was no one watching him, Grian left the library.

   He checked his communicator to make sure no one was in the area before taking flight. Which was probably a mistake, as Grian realized the moment he was in the air. A wave of nausea and sickness overwhelmed him as he decided to glide his way down to the ground before his wings gave up on him. It was probably the coughing fit but it didn’t stop the nausea from overwhelming his senses. Thankfully for him, he was a good enough glider to get nearly the full way back to his base. 

  He kept an eye out for Joel the whole flight back to his base. He wasn’t quite sure as to why he was so paranoid. But again, Grian did not want questions. And the way he looked right now, pale and with blood probably on his face, it was sure to warrant a lot of questions. 

   Grian chose not to go to the fishing hut again, instead going to his actual house. He stumbled into the house, discarding the crushed lilac petals to the side. He dug through his chests for a Regeneration potion and chugged it down, sighing in the relief the numbing brought. He remembered the author’s note saying to check another page for treatment options but it was obvious that Regeneration and Health are recommended because that’s what anyone would say. So Grian just took the potions himself. No need to read anything extra then.

  Grian changed into a less ratty sweater and cleaned all the blood from his face. He grabbed his sketchbook just in case and spread his wings, taking off towards Scar’s base. 

  “—well, what if we didn’t do that?” Grian decided that Scar was utterly, incredibly insane. The latter had just told him of his plans to add a hostile mob car to the train he was building. The already constructed and working carts were beautiful and Grian could not get his eyes off of them. But— Scar’s newest idea? Horrible, horrifying, will cause multiple casualties and he wasn’t quite sure how it would be executed.

  “Well that’s no fun now is it?” Scar all but whined. Grian suppressed a giggle as the man flopped down into the grass, his zookeeper hat falling down on his face. He reached out and straightened it, Scar looking at him from under the hat with a disgruntled expression.

  Grian flicked Scar on the forehead as he thought of a smart reply only to yelp in surprise as Scar dragged him down to the ground. Except the force exerted was a little too much. Grian stumbled over his feet then Scar’s feet and found himself falling straight on top of Scar. 

  “ Oof— ” Grian’s face collided with what he thought was Scar’s neck. He lifted his head to find himself looking straight into a pair of very familiar, very endearing green eyes. That were very close to his face. Along with the rest of Scar’s face. Their noses were barely touching, and their lips— oh void.  

  The spiky pain in Grian’s throat eased up so rapidly as he found himself more and more aware as to how exactly he managed to fall on top of Scar that it almost made him dizzy. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at Scar, unable to think. 

   It’s just Scar . The annoying voice in his head said. Just Scar . It was enough for him to scramble away, ears and cheeks burning. His wings wrapped around him as he fell to the side and away from the other, temporarily putting Scar out of his immediate line of sight. The tightness in his throat appeared just as quickly as it had begun to subside, leading him to nearly wheeze in shock. 

  Scar cleared his throat awkwardly as Grian gathered himself, ignoring the way his face burned and ignoring the way Scar’s face looked just as red as his ears felt. But Grian’s suffering didn’t end there. The tickle at the back of his throat returned in full force. He barely had any time to take out his napkin before the coughing fit began. 

   He can’t let Scar see him like this.

  His wings wrapped around him as tightly and protectively as he could make them, as the coughing fit began. Grian tried to suppress it as much as he could, Scar’s very loud and obvious concern was evident to him. He cleared his throat and swallowed and gulped, the mysterious thing— in his throat trying to make its way out. Grian knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for too long. 

  Covering his face, he unfurled his wings, to see a less red, very concerned looking Scar. The man seemed hesitant to reach out to him and Grian put that hesitation to immediate use.

  “I’m r’lly sor’y Sca’,”  he apologized, voice muffled by the handkerchief, “my col’ hasn’t r’lly go’en bette’ and it’s affe’ed my ba’ance too I fea’— don’ worry too mu’h I’ll ju’— clean up an’ be ba’ la’er if you still nee’ my hel’— don’ wan’ you get’ing si’k due t’ me—”

  He didn’t wait for Scar to reply or say anything more than half a questioning sound before he ran off— well technically flew off and away from Scar’s base. 

  Suppressing the cough was stupid and painful but Grian did not dare to show Scar the true extent of his “cold.” He knew the other would be very suspicious and probably very confused by now but he could only hope that Scar wouldn’t push the issue. 

  Grian made it home on what felt like half a heart after accidentally being pricked by a pufferfish in multiple places in his chest and throat. Aka very precariously. His wings nearly gave out on him in multiple instances. He could only thank the stars watching that Scar didn’t think to follow him. Even if that thought increased the tightness in his chest. Fumbling for his communicator he could see that Joel, Mumbo and Pearl were all away and thus couldn’t be directly contacted by Scar even if the man wanted to. Which was a bit of relief. 

  He knew Scar well enough to know that the man would have tried to contact one, if not all of them the moment Grian took flight from his base. Once in the safety of his base, deep inside the house, Grian stopped suppressing the cough. 

  The spots forming in his eyes and the pain ripping his throat apart had become almost familiar to him. Almost routine like. Grian curled up in the corner of his base, the swirl of the nether portal drowning out his wheezing and choking as something all but clawed its way out. 

  He spat blood covered petals into his handkerchief, breathing heavily as his vision swam. There were way more than one singular petal, he realized dazedly as his wings wrapped themselves around him even tighter. These were clumps. Not full flowers. But not singular petals like he had seen earlier.

  Grian faintly remembered the book in Joel’s library. Of the contents of that one specific disease he read about. And what it meant. Of its causes and fatality.

  But most importantly, he remembered the author’s note. 

   My sincerest apologies.

  All his symptoms pointed to this fictional disease. Grian wasn’t even sure if the book was messing with him about it being real or not. But the final symptom, the main symptom, was something Grian didn’t have. He wasn’t in love with anyone. Unless he secretly was and he just forgot to tell himself. Which made no sense. For obvious reasons. But what other illness consisted of coughing out bloodied flower petals? 

  Eventually, lots of pondering and wondering later, Grian began to clean up the flower petals, sweeping them into a hidden corner. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to properly dispose of them just yet. Maybe he could enlist the help of Ren or Cub and get into one of their labs. But for that he’d have to come up with a convincing enough cover story. Especially one that would convince Cub, considering he too had more than enough knowledge in magic to get to the bottom of this— problem— Grian was facing. 

  But then again,  his illness and problems were his and his only. Grian would not be bothering anyone else with this problem. Even if they were well versed in magic like Cub and X or medically like Gem.

  Once his floor was free of petal clumps and the blood specks were wiped away, Grian took a look out his window only to realize it was halfway through the night now. The moon was high up in the sky, and mobs were spawning wherever there was no proper established light source. A zombie wandered into his wheat farm, followed by a couple of his friends. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, temporarily forgetting the tightness in his chest in favor of the more annoying problem. Mobs.

  Grian really did not want to deal with burnt zombie corpses in his farm the next morning. He also remembered, with a groan, that his bow and most weapons were currently sitting in his fishing hut and not in his main base. He had left them there earlier in the day before going to Joel’s library. 

  The zombies seemed to have decided to throw a little party down in his wheat fields, the crops getting trampled as more zombies and even other mobs decided to join them. Which meant Grian had to deal with the stupid infestation. Or he had to deal with cleanup. At least killing them would mean no cleanup. 

  He should ask Xisuma if there was a way to get rid of the mobs that died due to daytime automatically. Although Grian knew the answer was to just light up the area. Which was stupid and dumb and so much work. 

  Flying down to his fishing hut, Grian slipped inside before the death party happening outside could figure out he was there. All his gear was here, except for his chestplate but Grian never used his chestplate, it was in his base for decorative purposes only. He couldn’t find his shield but that was probably fine, all he really needed was his bow.

  His infinity bow was missing however. As was his axe. And his helmet. Which he then remembered was sitting on his bed in his main base. 

  Grian was starting to think that maybe he should take up Pearl’s offer on learning how to maintain a proper sorting and storage system. He grabbed whatever gear he did find, aka his sword and regular enchanted bow. 

  Peeking out of his window, he let out an annoyed noise. The stupid mobs were flattening his wheat . That was unforgivable. Grian exited his fishing hut, setting his respawn point to the bed that was outside, just in case. 

  Although he was heading to the groaning mess in front of him, the first zombie groan he did hear was from behind him. Grian held his sword out, finishing off the zombie in a single stroke. Because he was simply that cool. 

  However that meant the rest of the death party was alerted to his presence. Grian began to use his bow, monster killing a familiar rhythm to him now, having done this an uncountable number of times. What wasn’t familiar though, was his cough. 

  And its innate ability to come up in the worst of the worst situations. Grian could feel it crawling up his throat almost comically slowly as the horde came closer, causing him to take a step back. He cursed internally, swinging his sword at a zombie who was getting too close for his liking. Grian tried to cough into his elbow, attempting to get rid of the cough before the horde was up in his face.

  He didn’t realise how close he was to his fishing area. The cough along with backing away to keep a safe distance from the oncoming horde made him stumble a little, his foot catching on one of the wooden planks set down to mark the start of his dock.

  Grian flailed and stumbled, falling backwards as the zombies reached out for him and—

   < Grian was slain by Zombie>

  He shot up in his bed. That was right next to where he had just died. His stuff was being picked up by the zombies, there were skeletons on top of spiders turning to face him, bows ready. Grian had no time to scramble away before—

< Grian was shot by Skeleton>

  Back in bed—

< Grian was slain by Spider>

  Back in bed—

< Grian was blown up by Creeper>

  Back in bed—

< Grian was killed by Baby Zombie>

  Back in bed—

< Grian was stabbed to death by Zombie>

  Back in bed, this time Grian didn’t let himself reorient first, bolting out of the bed the moment he appeared. But the mobs were all around him now. Geared with his armor , his weapons. A zombie grabbed at his arm and in his haste to escape—

< Grian hit the ground too hard while trying to escape Zombie>

  Back in bed, Grian tried to get to his communicator, trying to send out an SOS. There were no hermits awake. No one should be awake at this time of the night. 

< Grian > heaadlp

< Grian was slain by Zombie>

< Grian > he lp

< Grian was shot by Skeleton>

< Grian experienced kinetic energy trying to escape Creeper>

   Grian shot up in bed, wheezing and panicking, ready to scramble back out when he heard the tell tale sound of multiple rockets being fired. But he didn’t hear the zombie descending upon him.

<Grian was slain by Zombie>

  He couldn’t feel his hands, his vision swam, there was the tell tale taste of copper in his mouth as he respawned, hands raised in fear of another zombie or skeleton or spider or even enderman. But the blow never came.

  “Grian?” 

  Slowly, he lowered his arms, chest heaving. Standing in the middle of many despawning corpses of the horde were Pearl, Mumbo and Scar. All three of them had weapons in their hands and concern on their faces. And they all looked hesitant to approach him. 

  Grian got out of his bed, knees weak. He swallowed thickly, the taste of blood the only thing he could fully feel in that moment.

  “What—” Mumbo looked around them then back at Grian, who was still struggling to orient himself, “what happened? Are you— are you okay?”

  Grian nodded, unable to find the energy to speak. Scar broke the trance that the three of them were in, rushing forward to Grian. He couldn’t help but flinch, still fully expecting another zombie to attack him or a skeleton to shoot him. That caused Scar to slow down slightly, stopping right in front of Grian. He looked up at the other, who then proceeded to place his hands on either side of Grian’s face. Almost like he was inspecting him for more injuries. The repeated respawning had fogged up Grian’s mind and therefore judgement. So he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Scar’s chest in order to reorient himself.

  Grian felt Scar’s hands leave his face, the man wrapping his arms around him. Shuffling on either side of him alerted him to Mumbo and Pearl moving closer. Pearl let out the faintest of coos , only loud enough for Grian to hear. A familiar signal. A familiar question.

   Are you okay?

  Grian wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t. But Pearl could not know that. He would not let her know that. So he replied, just as faintly, just as inaudibly.

   Yes.

  Scar’s hug was comforting. It eased the pain in his chest and calmed the daze in his head. Grian’s throat felt like it did before all this flower nonsense began. The more he sank into the hug, the better he felt. It also cleared the daze up in his head enough to realize what exactly he was doing. 

  A shudder ran through Grian, causing Scar to loosen his hold on him. Grian stepped back, breathing heavily. His throat felt tighter now, looking at the fear in Mumbo’s eyes and the worry in Pearl’s. He didn’t look at Scar’s eyes. He was afraid of what he’d see.

  “What happened?” Pearl asked, voice gentle, “if Scar hadn’t seen your message, I dunno how long this would have gone on for Gri—”

  “I—” his voice was rough and raspy. It was almost painful to speak, “I was dealing with the monsters and um— tripped. Spawn was right here so didn’t get a chance to be able to run.”

  “You— tripped?” Mumbo sounded almost skeptical, and if Grian couldn’t see the horrifying stress Mumbo seemed to be under due to this whole incident, he would’ve thought so as well. 

  Grian nodded and pointed at where he had fallen, the wooden plank sticking out a miniscule amount. He assumed the three of them would just look at it and nod in— understanding or something. He did not expect Scar to take out his axe and hack away at it until the plank block was in his hand.

  “ Scar !?” Both him and Pearl said in unison. 

  “What?” Scar sounded almost innocent, like he hadn’t just ripped out one of Grian’s planks, “I’m making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  He then proceeded to place the block back down, in a slightly better fashion than Grian had. The edges that had stuck out were gone now, from miniscule to invisible.

  “Oh—” Grian looked at it then up at Scar, “thank you—”

  Scar grinned, and it was almost goofy if not for the murderously serious look in his eyes. Even Pearl and Mumbo were standing a little away from Scar, Grian noted. 

  “Thank you guys,” Grian continued, “I— I don’t know how this happened.”

  “Thank Scar mainly really,” Mumbo joked weakly, Pearl nodding, “he took out like eighty percent of them.”

  “Really?” Grian looked at Scar who shrugged and let out a non committal noise, “then maybe you should build that train car— maybe .”

  Scar let out a small victory noise, much to the confusion of the other two before stopping in his tracks and squinting at Grian’s face. Grian felt his face redden as Mumbo and Pearl also looked at him, following Scar. 

  “Why is your mouth bleeding?” Scar asked, calmly. Calmly was an understatement. Calmly was a figure of speech. Calmly would be the expression Grian used if Scar wasn’t addressing him . “I don’t think that comes from respawning. Right Pearl? Grian is everything oka—”

  “I’m fine!” Grian exclaimed, the other three jumping in mild surprise at the force of his statement, “I kinda maybe bit my— tongue— cheek? Inside of my mouth?”

    Now, Grian could say Mumbo was skeptical. He pursed his lips, accepting the handkerchief Pearl shoved into his hands. All three of them, Mumbo, Scar and Pearl looked at him like they believed nothing he had just said.

  “Guys, trust me,” he said weakly, “I’m fine. A drink of water and I’ll be completely fine. Trust me.”

  Scar took an incredibly slow step back, disbelief still clear on his face. Mumbo and Pearl followed suit. Grian wrung the napkin between his hands anxiously as he looked at the three of them. He tried to avoid looking at Scar in the eyes, he had seen them up close too many times for him to count today. 

  “You guys need to sleep. Go back to your bases now.” 

  Mumbo looked almost offended at Grian’s suggestion. Pearl rolled her eyes and Scar snorted in somehow, more disbelief. 

  “I’m serious,” he protested, an amused smirk making its way across Pearl’s face, “I’ll go to bed as well now.”

  “He’s right,” Scar said, and Mumbo and Pearl turned to look at him with an expression that pretty much said ‘ are you serious? ’.

  “You both go back to your bases, especially you Pearl,” Scar waved them off, “I’ll take Grian up to his base.”

  Mumbo and Pearl seemed unsure. Grian felt slight unease at the fact that Scar was going to enter his house. Which hadn’t been fully cleaned of his coughing fit earlier. The death loop he was just in had left him shaky but it also gave him the slightest of excuses as to why there was blood on his face and on his jumper. 

  Scar managed to shoo them away, not before both of them gave Grian a quick hug leaving him stumbling in surprise. They both flew off, Mumbo activating his elytra and Pearl spreading her wings. Which left just him and Scar at the fishing hut, alone.

  It reminded him of the night after Permit Challenges, which felt like forever ago. He shuffled on his spot, wings shaking themselves in an attempt to stretch them. 

  “You were awake?” he asked quietly, looking down at the wooden plank Scar had just fixed.

   “Yep,” Scar said, moving to stand right next to him.

  “Building?”

  “No, thinking.”

  “Thinking?” 

  “Yeah— about— stuff y’know?”

  Grian hummed, stepping back to sit on the bed. Scar joined him, the bed creaking due to the rust in its springs. The resultant sound was amusing, to say the least. Grian giggled, which led to Scar laughing which led to the both of them dissolving into barely silent laughter.

  “Why—” Scar gasped, “why is it so squeaky .”

  “It’s— ahem — the rust,” Grian coughed, catching his breath as Scar buried his face in his hands laughing. 

  Once the two composed themselves, they fell into a more comfortable silence. Grian almost felt like leaning his head against Scar’s shoulder. Like he had done before. But he stopped himself. He didn’t know why. He just did. 

  “Why were you awake?” Scar asked.

  Grian paused for a moment. What could he say? ‘Coughing up lilac petals’? No. Of course not. 

  “Same as you,” he settled on saying, “thinking.”

  It wasn’t fully untrue. He was thinking. Thinking about why he was coughing up something that shouldn’t even be inside his lungs or whatever right now. But Scar never really asked for the details so it was technically true.

  “Thinking about what?” Scar’s voice was low, quiet.

   Damn it.

  “Oh y’know—” Grian waved him off, a nervous laugh escaping him. He didn’t look at Scar, fixating on the very interesting grass in front of him. Very very interesting grass.

  “I see,” Scar said simply, “well, we do need to get you to bed.”

  “Ugh—” Grian groaned, “y’know what? Hang on—”

  He stood up, Scar copying him. Grian opened the door to his hut, Scar letting out a disapproving noise to that. He ignored that however, choosing to drag the outside bed back in to its designated spot. 

  “Grian you should go to your actual base—”

  “Is this not a good place to sleep?” Grian squinted at Scar in mock offence.

  “No! I mean— yes! It’s just— you kinda went through a lot just now— wouldn’t it be better to sleep in your actual base?”

  “This is perfect.” Grian declared, flopping onto the bed. Scar let out a laugh that was almost— fond. He looked up at the man, and realized Scar didn’t have his zookeeper hat on. Scar never went anywhere without his hat. 

  “Where’s your hat?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion. Scar’s ears reddened, as Grian looked at the man realizing quite a bit was missing from his outfit. Like his belt. And a sock. 

  “I saw the death messages and your message and panicked and kinda just— came here as soon as I could?” Scar said sheepishly.

  “Oh— thank you.”

  Scar hummed, and they fell into a lapse of silence again. 

  “You know you should probably go back to bed now,” Grian said, looking at Scar, “I’m fine now.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid and or get into a death loop of sorts again?”

  “It’s more of your thing,” Grian grinned, “being your savior is more my thing” 

  “Hey! I’m literally HotGuy,” Scar protested, ears even redder as Grian laughed, “promise me though.”

  “I promise Scar.” 

  Scar seemed pleased enough by that, bowing dramatically before exiting out the front door of the hut. It was only after Grian heard the swoosh of the elytra being equipped and used did he realize the tightness in his throat and chest wasn’t there the whole time. He felt it coming back rapidly. But it was gone— even if it was gone for a mere five minutes.

   A week and a half went by and Grian noted the way his health was rapidly deteriorating despite the constant potions. He figured out when Joel wouldn’t be at his base just to go and take a second look at that book he had found. And to see if there were any other options that could match his symptoms. 

  As it turned out, the only illness that even had flowers involved was this ‘Hanahaki’. But his symptoms didn’t match . Well, they did. Except for the main causation. Which was something he couldn’t figure out. But there was a footnote. The tiniest of footnotes. He missed it the first time. But this time it was almost like Grian was meant to find it. And it was really really messed up once he realized why. It wasn’t an author note. It was an annotation. Like a previous reader had added the note as a warning.

   ‘If you have hanahaki or relate to these symptoms, please note, rapid / repeated respawns worsens the condition by tenfold. Stages that take weeks to develop turn into days. Your time will have become limited. Very very limited. 

  I really hope you don’t go through something like that. Or a death loop. A death loop is a death sentence on you as a whole. My sincerest apologies and I can only hope that you pass as peacefully as possible.’

  Grian left the library sick to the stomach. The note replayed in his head as he walked. Yes, walked back to his base. The shock was a little too much for him. He had been handed a death sentence. For what? By whom? Why? Grian didn’t know. And it drove him oh so crazy. His body was killing him for something he was brutally unaware about.

  Mumbo and Pearl were at his door nearly everyday, either together or alone to check up on him. Which was making hiding the petals and the blood and himself , harder and harder to hide. Grian began hiding out in the Permit Office until both of them gave up on showing up at his door to be faced with next to no answer. Scar was a little more relentless but his building projects took over his time. 

  Once Scar was focused on a build, it was like the man was in a trance until he had achieved his goal. Mumbo too, once faced with a redstone project. Slowly the three of them were engrossed in their personal projects enough for Grian to stop hiding from them. 

  He just didn’t want them to worry. That’s all! And Grian knew, there really wasn’t too much to worry about for him. Whatever was happening to him was something he was going to have to find out himself. Which he was pretty much on track for!! Right? 

   Grian had gotten into the building and creating trance himself, spending his times in the farthest of deserts and swamps and everything to gather materials for his farms and buildings. He was on the strongest Regeneration and Health potion concoction he could possibly create. Which was probably causing another thirty problems in his system. It was definitely causing problems in his player code because X sent a message in the general chat of the server trying to figure out who had taken a potion strong enough to damn near vaporize oneself.

  The potion might be able to vaporize him but it failed at vaporizing the flowers in his body so was it really all that serious? No. Of course not.

  Grian only remembered the true desperation that was in the author’s note and annotation by the end of week two after the death loop incident, after a particularly horrible coughing fit. Clumps and clumps of not just lilac petals now, but poppy petals as well. He didn’t know what it meant. He was afraid to ask. Two types of flowers surely weren't normal. Surely not. He didn’t really expect his evening to include a new flower type . 

  He was wiping the blood from his mouth, the coughing fits incredibly familiar to him when a knock at his door sent him scrambling. Quickly checking in the mirror that his face had no blood at all, he went to open the door.

  Joel stood outside, much to Grian’s surprise. He had expected Scar, or Mumbo or Pearl. 

  He was hoping it would be Scar .

  “Joel!” he greeted, checking over his shoulder to make sure nothing suspicious was immediately visible. “Long time no see dude. How are we?”

  Joel squinted at him, suspicion clear on his face, “why are you being nice? What did you do?”

  “Um— nothing—?” Grian sounded extra suspicious now. Joel rolled his eyes and Grian grinned, stepping out of his base and shutting the door behind him. 

  “Anyways whatever, I wanted to ask how you found my library? Tried a different style with it, added some magic bits and bobs and whatever you saw it. How was it?”

  “Oh the library? The library was beautiful dude,” Grian began describing everything he loved about the build.

  “Okay wonderful,” Joel looked relieved after Grian finished his spiel of compliment upon compliment, “and— hang on is that blood ?”

  Grian flinched before following Joel’s line of sight to realize he forgot to wipe the blood off of his hand. Of all the places he could have forgotten, he forgot to check his left hand.

  “Oh no! I may or may not have um—” his mind spun for a suitable lie, Joel looking back at him then at the splatter of blood on his arm, “been making beet juice! Yeah, beet juice. That’s not blood. That’d be crazy though.”

  Joel gave him a look. Grian laughed nervously and shrugged. Joel gave him an intenser version of the first look. Grian did not back down. Joel rolled his eyes and muttered a ‘ be careful loser ’.

  “Pearl did mention you’ve been acting all sickly and weird,” Joel said with a sigh, “didn’t realize how true that was.”

  “Excuse me, I am not acting all sickly and weird,” Grian gasped in offense, like his voice wasn’t actively betraying him. 

  Joel simply gave him a look before bidding him farewell. With another “Take care loser” being thrown into the mix. 

  Grian stepped back into his house, a weird type of emptiness filling his stomach as he coughed, a painless remnant of the fit from earlier. Maybe, maybe he should take that book more seriously than he had been. 

  He set up his dinner to cook in the furnace as he went back to clearing out the flower petals. Grian had taken to using them as burning fuel. Which was maybe a little messed up but if his body wanted to kill him with flower power then he was going to burn the stupid flowers however he pleased. 

  Hours later, once done with cleaning up and dinner, Grian stepped outside his house into the cool night. His base had been lit up properly now, courtesy of Pearl, which meant no more zombie attacks like the other day. 

   Grian flew down to the base of the mountain, gliding slowly. He could see the silhouette of a familiar redhead, sitting at his dock. Gem seemed to be engrossed in her own train of thought as he sat down next to her.

  “Hi G,” she greeted, “can’t sleep?”

  “Somewhat,” he said, “can’t stop thinking really.”

  “Thinking about what?” Gem shifted so that she was sitting facing Grian. He moved as well, leaning against one of the wooden poles of the dock. 

  “Just—” Grian pursed his lips, trying to figure out what to say. Gem waited patiently, arms around her knees. It’s not like he didn’t trust Gem. He just didn’t know what to say.

  “What does—” he stopped himself again, Gem humming in encouragement, “okay this whole thing, purely hypothetical, purely due to something I read—”

  “You read?” Gem sounded amused. Grian gave her a look.

  “What would— ‘being in love’ or like loving someone,” he began slowly, “like properly, I guess. What would that— mean?”

  “What does love mean?” she repeated, Grian nodding hesitantly, “well that depends I suppose. There’s all types of love in the universe, right? So I would assume it depends.”

  Grian thought back to the excerpt in the book back at Joel’s library. “What about— romantic, for example. What does it mean , what does it entail ? How— how does it feel?”

  Gem stared at Grian with an unreadable expression on her face. He drew his knees close to his chest, thinking over the answers to his own question.

  “Well,” Gem said, “to me? Love is like— this is about to be the most cringey thing I ever say.”

   Grian laughed at that as Gem took a deep breath. 

  “It’s like a safe space, but in someone. Y’know? You find yourself safe and secure with them. You find it easy to be yourself around them. Everything about them makes you really happy. Just happy. Doesn’t even have to be more than that. You’re excited to see them, talk to them. To me, it’s like I see flowers and I’m like oh! That’s Pearl! Y’know? They’re your best friend and main supporter. They’re there for you for everything you could need and you’re there for them.”

  Grian blinked, trying to process everything Gem was trying to tell him. 

  “Did I lose you?” Gem asked, and all Grian could do was just nod sheepishly.

  “Um—” she trailed off, looking at the ocean. 

  “How did you know with Pearl?” Grian questioned quietly, “that you liked her? That you loved her?”

    “Well, it’s the little things. The way her eyes shine when she’s telling me about her latest build idea. The way she jumps around in excitement when her redstone machine things work. The sun hits her hair so perfectly, it’s like an angel’s halo forms around her. I love her smile, her voice, her humor, her eyes— I could go on like this for hours honestly Grian. I love her for how she is and I love her because she’s Pearl. Just Pearl. But she’s the most perfect person I’ve ever met. And you’re never going to breathe a word of what all I’ve just said here, are we understood?”

  Gem’s little ramble felt like little neurons were fired in multiple parts of Grian’s brain. He turned away from her and coughed into his elbow, the cough almost like a tiny reminder of why he was even asking all of this.

  “Oh,” was all he could bring himself to say, his thoughts racing a million miles, “that— helps. It really does.”

  “Is everything okay G?” she asked gently, and Grian nodded. Even if he wanted to shake his head to say ‘no’. 

  “Well I do hope you find something as nice as me and Pearl, and do take this as me flexing because she is the coolest ever.” Gem winked, mischief glinting in her eyes causing Grian to laugh weakly. 

  He stood up and bid farewell to Gem, who went back to staring at the water, this time a bit of a happy glow on her face. Probably from talking about Pearl, Grian realized with slight amusement.

  What Grian also realized is, somewhere, deep inside him, he felt the same about someone. Someone! And that was causing his lungs to grow flowers and his floorboards to be stained with blood. He thought of everyone on the server of everyone he knew. Grian tried to relate the emotion he heard in Gem’s voice to anything or anyone he knew. 

  When it came to love, Grian knew one thing: he loved his friends. A lot. He cared about them very very deeply and that was that. Anything more than that? No. 

  He never really thought about Mumbo’s smile the way Gem was talking about Pearl’s smile. Even if he really admired Mumbo for being Mumbo, that was his best friend. Grian stood at the border of his wheat field, under his base, pondering and contemplating. Joel was the same. As was Impulse. Or even Skizz!

  Grian looked in the distance at the massive mountain of ore that towered over the builds in the distance.

   Scar.

  But, would that even make sense? Grian thought back to that moment near Scar’s train, when he fell. He thought back further to during the Permit Challenges, when Scar sat with him. He thought about Scar’s eyes and how they shone when he was talking about something he loved. He remembered Scar leaving his house that night, moonlight making him glow almost—

  Wait.

  But— but it didn’t make sense . None of it made sense . Why would it even make sense? It was Scar! Scar, his friend, his best friend. Scar! It made no sense.

  A ding from his communicator broke him out of his thoughts. He checked it to see a message from Gem.

  < Geminitay whispered to Grian> i forgot to add, none of it ever makes any sense in the slightest :)

  He turned back to look at the dock only to see it empty. It was almost as if Gem read his mind. 

  But it not making sense meant that he liked Scar . And— and it made sense but it didn’t make sense at the same time. It made sense in the way that he was disappointed if the person at his door wasn’t Scar, in the way that he gravitated towards Scar if Scar was in his immediate vicinity. It didn’t make sense in the way that it was Scar. Which, when Grian put it all together, he realized that what Gem was describing for Pearl was what Grian was thinking about for Scar . But then, it also made no sense at all.

   Grian remembered another excerpt from the book. An excerpt that made his heart break just the slightest. And confirmed what he felt like he had known for ages already.

    ‘Hanahaki is a disease caused by unrequited love.’

  Unrequited. Unreciprocated. 

  Even if he really did love Scar to the extent of this mysterious and stupid stupid illness, unrequited meant only one thing:

  Scar didn’t feel the same. 

Chapter Text

  Grian was avoiding Scar. 

  There was no other way to put it. He knew he was avoiding Scar, he knew why and he knew Scar was beginning to notice the drastic shift in his behavior. But Grian didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he were to find himself face to face with Scar, he didn’t know what he would do if a flower made its appearance midway through a conversation with literally anyone on the server.

  So Grian chose to avoid Scar and Mumbo and Joel and Pearl and everyone else who was in his immediate vicinity. Or any vicinity.

  He even moved all his stuff down into the mending book shrine he had created months ago. No one knew it was even there except for Cleo and a few others, and Cleo wouldn’t think of looking for him there if they needed him either. Which meant his chances of avoiding everyone increased tenfold. 

  But no matter what Grian did, nothing could stop the cough and the blood and the flowers. And the constant thoughts about Scar did nothing to help either. He found himself going over every interaction they’ve ever had, trying to pinpoint when did Scar become Scar to him. When did it start? The flowers in his lungs? Why did it take his body to start self destructing for him to find out what he felt? Why did it take him being on the brink of permanent death for him to realize what was going on?

  What is he going to do now that his body is killing him for falling for someone who didn’t feel the same way? There was no cure for hanahaki. Even if Grian convinced himself to go to Xisuma for help, what could the admin do? The only power he  had for this was to remove all the love from Grian’s heart. And to think about that was physically impossible for Grian. 

  So all he was left with was a deathbed of flowers of his own making.

  The universe was cruel that way. 

  Grian managed to hide out in his Mending book shrine for a whole week before him leaving the place was more out of necessity than want. He decided to leave at night when at least ninety percent of the server would be asleep. And if they weren’t then they would still be working at their bases therefore letting Grian do his work without being interrupted or confronted.

  He flew up into the sky, the taste of copper so normal that he forgot what his mouth used to feel like before all the blood. The night was still, even the mobs seemed to not be too focused on terrorizing the land, only the occasional skeleton clattering around. 

  Gliding over Mumbo’s base, Grian flew by as quietly as possible, keeping an eye out for the man. He spotted him at the riverbed, talking to someone he couldn’t quite see just yet. As he got closer, he could see that it was Scar, who had a big basket of something in his hands. That just made Grian speed up more, getting away from the area as quickly as possible. 

  He made his way to the shopping district with nearly no incident, the only issue being the sharp prickly sensation that was becoming permanent in his lungs. Grian made a quick job of buying building materials and golden carrots and apples before someone else found him. The Hermits were known not to have good sleep schedules, it came with being a builder on here as Grian found out in his first ever season.

  Which also meant that while it may be two in the morning, it was like two in the afternoon for everyone awake. And that meant he could run into anyone right now. Grian looked like a ghost and he felt like it too, so he would very much prefer not seeing anyone who might question what is happening with him. Which happened to be everyone. 

  The entirety of the Hermitcraft community knew each and every one of their peers like the back of their hands having spent so many years together. And Grian, well Grian was an open book to all of them. Especially Pearl, Scar, Gem and Mumbo. With Joel joining them, that just added another name to the list of people who could tell that something was wrong with Grian if he blinked wrong.

  All in all it was a very inconvenient arrangement for him considering ninety-nine percent of his problems were in fact irrelevant and not worth the amount of time these guys would spend on it for him. The 1% could be this current situation Grian had found himself in if he tried hard enough, but was it really that serious? No. 

  A sharp pain shot through his chest, reminding him of what was growing inside of him. The thought of something inside his lungs and chest was creeping Grian out day by day and he almost had half a mind to claw the roots out of his body on his own. 

  He slipped into Joel’s honey shop, honey bottles being the next item on his list. In a world of magic, Grian knew honey wasn’t really all that needed for remedial purposes, but he had grown attached to the simplicity and nostalgia honey tea would bring him. Although him buying it meant putting Joel on his case. Also why he was there at two in the morning. The music wouldn’t work at such an ungodly hour. 

  Or so Grian thought. 

  He placed the diamonds in the chest, and turned around, honey bottles in his inventory only for—

   Honey honey honey—

   Oh no.

  Oh no no no—

  Grian stumbled over his feet and burst out of the shop as the song all but blared into the quiet night. Almost like it was a security alarm. His communicator pinged as he did the most logical thing he could think of and ran away from the shop. 

  It was only when he was halfway through the shopping district that it occurred to him that he could just— fly. Which he then did, shoving all his items into his inventory and pulling out his communicator. He took flight, unlocking his communicator. Grian knew full well that this was an accident waiting to happen but he just had to make sure no one actually saw him. Even if that meant flying without concentrating.

  There were a couple of messages in the general chat, mainly people asking who on earth was buying honey at this ungodly hour. Grian chose to ignore those. Scar’s icon sat at the top of his unread messages list, the number of messages only increasing. 

  It hurt Grian in a way previously thought impossible to continuously ignore Scar and his attempts to talk. But he just couldn’t . He couldn’t find it in himself to face the man. To know what was happening to him because of what Grian felt. And to know that it’s happening simply because there was no possible way for those feelings to be reciprocated. 

  He put his communicator back in, almost losing control of his flight in the process. Heart racing, Grian took the long way round to his base, over the cherry mountain and away from Mumbo and Scar’s bases. 

  Landing quietly on his fishing dock, Grian looked up at his base on the mountain side. He could see some sort of movement, squinting to try and make out who it was. 

   Oh.

  There was no mistaking the enormous hat he could just barely make out from where he stood. Before Scar could notice him standing at the docks, Grian all but ran to the secret entrance in his fishing hut. A ping at his communicator made him pause to check, Scar’s icon bobbing up and down to indicate a new unread message.

   < Goodtimeswithscar whispered to Grian> where are you :(  can we talk?

  < Goodtimeswithscar whispered to Grian> im sorry if i did somehtng :( 

 < Goodtimeswithscar whispered to Grian> grian..?

   –4 unread messages from Goodtimeswithscar–

  He swallowed thickly, the all too familiar prickling sensation closing in on his throat before slipping the communicator back into his pocket. Grian simply couldn’t face Scar right now. Or ever. 

  The password to the secret entrance to his Mending book shrine had been changed a little after Grian moved into the place just in case Cleo did manage to figure out where he was. They were the only other person to know the password and Grian was not going to let there be any chance of discovery. 

  The area was humid and a little too wet for his liking but it was underneath the river so he really couldn’t complain about it being too wet. He had set up a bed near his statue and a furnace and crafting area in the driest part of the cavern. Grian was about to set up a kettle of honey tea when another ping from his communicator distracted him.

   < Smallishbeans whispered to Grian> what the hell are you buying honey for its 2am

   < Smallishbeans whispered to Grian>  i know it was you, are you sick

 < Smallishbeans whispered to Grian> where are you? Scars worried sick and so is everyone

<4 unread messages from Smallishbeans>

   Scar’s worried sick .

  Grian thought back to a bit ago when he saw Scar’s silhouette outside his house. The tightness in his throat lessened ever so slightly, his mouth dry. He sniffled, the author’s warning of hanahaki and the inevitable flashing in his mind.

  He couldn’t face Scar. He couldn’t tell him what had happened, no matter how worried his friends were. 

  After all, Grian was dying, he couldn’t let Scar’s last few memories of him be riddled with the guilt that he knew would follow if he did tell Scar. Because if Grian told Scar that he loved him, he would have to face the reality that Scar didn’t feel the same .

  And Scar would have to live with the fact that that is what was killing Grian. That something completely out of his control was killing Grian. And he didn’t blame Scar. How could he? He brought himself into this situation. All Scar did was exist. And be wonderful and kind and beautiful and everything that confused Grian to an unimaginable extent. 

  So no, no one could know. No one could help him with his illness. Even if Xisuma could, he couldn’t ask that of the admin. So Grian made his decision. He was on his own for this, which wasn’t unexpected. But he will not let anyone else get involved with him and his illness and surround himself with the pitying looks and everything that would come with dying . 

  As expected, his body hated the decision. Within seconds, Grian found himself curled up on the unforgivingly cold stone floor, wheezing and retching, clumps of blood soaked petals filling his mouth. 

  Eventually, the coughing fit ended and Grian was surrounded by the poppies and lilacs that were killing him slowly and painfully. His communicator pinged occasionally as his friends kept trying to establish contact with him. Grian reached out to the device, fingers cold and clammy and shut it off completely. 

  The silence that followed was near deafening. It was as if the silence itself was echoing off the cavern walls. The cavern was poorly lit, adding to the pressing quiet. But, Grian found the peace that it brought almost, comforting. 

  With his communicator shut down, they couldn’t find him based on coordinate either, which was doubly helpful. Gathering all the flowers into a singular pile, he lit them on fire. It was a particularly bad coughing fit, weakness pulling at his bones. His wings lay limp and his legs felt like they were on fire with every movement he made. His hair stuck to his forehead, sweat beginning to form all over his body.

  He managed to drag himself into bed, shaking and trembling as the fire he had lit crackled to an end. The bed was comfortable, and Grian, exhausted, gave into the sleep that pulled at him, trying to keep the image of Scar out of his mind.

  Grian’s health worsened as the days passed by. He didn’t dare switch his communicator back on in fear of seeing what was waiting for him on the other end of the screen.

  It was getting increasingly difficult for him to get out of bed. His wings felt heavy and limbs weak. Grian barely had any energy to even move in his bed. The only time he actually forced himself to move was when he could feel a coughing fit crawl up his throat.

  But blood stained lips and crumpled sheets had become a constant factor of his life now. Grian had lost track of time and the days passing. His only indication that time was passing was because of the way the river water would reflect against the glass dome of the cavern. 

  The glow of the torches, paintings and statue were faint and didn’t provide as much light as Grian had expected either. It left the whole area dreary and dark. It was depressing.

  The only things consistent in his mind were those cursed author notes of that book of diseases haunting his every breath and— Scar . While the author’s notes which sealed his death in ink and paper haunted his breaths, Scar haunted Grian’s heartbeat, his dreams, each and every movement. It was as if a ghost of Scar was looking over his shoulder at any given moment.

  Grian knew exactly what Scar was feeling as a result of his decision to avoid the man. He had done this exact thing a couple years ago as a joke. A simple prank in the middle of them messing around. It had been hardly for a day or two. But it destroyed Scar. To be ignored by Grian was something Scar simply couldn’t fathom. He was at Grian’s door every half hour back then, holding flowers and cakes and trinkets and simply anything to get Grian to talk again. 

  And so he knew, Grian knew exactly how this decision of his was tearing Scar apart. He didn’t need to access his communicator to know that. It destroyed Grian to put Scar through that again. He had promised his friend he wouldn’t ever try something like that in the future.

  But Grian made his choice. Because he knew Scar the same way Scar knew Grian. And if Scar had even the slightest hint that he was why Grian felt this way. And why Grian’s body was in irreversible self destruction—

  No. Grian would not let any of them, not Scar, not Mumbo. No one. He would not let any of them live with that information and guilt. He would not cause any more pain to them than he already had.

   His illness and problems were his and his only to tackle. Grian would not be bothering anyone else with this problem. And no one could find him either. They had no access to his communicator, and no one could get into his cavern even by accident.

  Unless—

  No.

  They wouldn’t ask X to use his admin powers to locate him. Grian wasn’t worth that effort.

  He could feel the flowers in his lungs taking deeper root, slowly but steadily taking him to the final stage of hanahaki. And— well, he didn’t know what to do.

  Grian’s energy had depleted almost completely. The gapples and potions provided tiny energy bursts that felt like they were becoming more and more unstable with each dosage. He knew it was a direct result of the amount of magic coursing through his blood. 

  It wasn’t healthy or recommended or anything good at all really, even for someone with a higher magic tolerance like Grian. But he was starting to give up. He couldn’t think of any other solution to easing his pain other than magic. And because of that, he could feel his body falling apart at a molecular level. His bones were weak, his feathers dull. But to keep the cough and pain away, he was willing to push the limits as far as his body would allow.

  On top of everything, his potion and food supply was slowly running out. Grian couldn’t find it in himself to even roll over in his bed, choosing to shiver under the woolen covers. About a stack of everything was left, but with the way he was running through the potions, Grian wasn’t sure how long he had left with these supplies. He curled up in his bed shivering and sweating. And he prayed to whoever was watching for all the pain to just end .

    “Grian?”

  Grian squinted in the bright light. He was outside his fishing hut, the sun warm and gentle on his skin. Scar was running over to him, a comically large basket in his hands.

  “Scar?” 

  “Oh my god Grian, where have you been?” Scar dropped the basket and crashed into Grian, enveloping him in a hug, “It’s been so long, how dare you do that to me.”

  Grian’s face was buried in Scar’s shoulder, the air squeezed out of him due to the force of the hug. So all he could say was—

  “Mhmpgph.”

  Intelligently. Obviously.

  Scar let go of him minutes later, Grian shaking his head to reorient himself.

 “What’s this?” he asked,  pointing at the basket at Scar’s feet. 

  “Oh! This is for a picnic! I wasn’t sure if you’d actually be here though— otherwise I’d have brought way more.”

  “More?” he snorted, “Scar this looks like you’ve fit Mumbo and Cub in this along with food and drinks.”

  Scar laughed, a sound ever so magical Grian forgot about all the pain that was eating away at his insides. 

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” Scar said, suddenly becoming serious, “where were you?”

  Grian sucked in a breath, trying to think of an acceptable enough answer. He looked away from Scar, feeling the other’s eyes burn into him like he was trying to read Grian’s mind. 

  “Well,” Scar cleared his throat, “if you’d like we can talk about this while having our picnic? Would you be more comfortable with that?”

   He looked back at Scar and nodded ever so slightly. Scar let out an indecipherable noise and put an arm around Grian’s shoulder. He let Scar lead him away from his fishing docks and towards where he had his trees and wheat field. 

  After Scar found a spot that provided the perfect amount of shade and sunlight, Grian was directed to sit down against a tree while he ‘set up the picnic’. Whatever that meant. 

  Scar seemed to have thought of everything as he watched the man set up a big, very comfortable looking blanket and then set literally every sort of food imaginable on top of it. Grian watched how the wind ruffled Scar’s hair making it even messier than before. The sun made the man look ethereal and Grian simply couldn’t tear his eyes away from the whole scene. How could he?

  “Scar,” he began after a moment, voice raspy and painful as he remembered what exactly his lungs were going through, “Scar, where are we going to sit?”

  “Your job is to sit and not worry,” the other said, looking at Grian with a grin, “everything will be taken care of.”

  Grian frowned. Something didn’t feel right about how Scar was acting. Why was he being so nice? He had abandoned Scar. He probably looked horrible as well, from the days spent underground out of the way of everyone. Scar didn’t seem to mind that however, as the man hummed along to some song setting up a jug of lemonade. 

  Scar looked up at him with a blinding grin, “come on! Let’s eat!” 

  He even sounded weird. Scar sounded like he was forgetting what Grian had put him through. And was choosing to just move past it and ignore it forever. 

  Grian moved over to sit on the tiny amount of space left on the enormous blanket, Scar settling down next to him. 

  He accepted the large glass of iced lemonade that Scar had poured for him, sipping as slow as possible to ease the pain in his throat. The two of them sat in the comfortable silence, watching the butterflies flit around in the meadow.

  Scar looked at him with an indecipherable expression, before reaching out and fixing Grian’s hair. The tightness in his chest bound by the roots of the lilacs and poppies began to unravel so quickly by that action, he felt like the air was knocked out of his lungs.

  He cleared his throat, cheeks reddening. Scar didn’t seem to notice, smiling brighter than the sun. He looked almost— detached. Which was weird. 

  “G?” Scar began, and Grian’s stomach sank at the tone his voice had taken. He was going to be questioned about his disappearance. “Can I ask you something?”

  All he could do was hum, bringing his knees close to his chest, wings beginning to wrap around his body. 

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  Grian slowly looked at Scar, the man’s eyes— blank. 

   Blank?

  “Um—”

  He coughed into his elbow, wincing at the pain shooting through his chest. The action didn’t go unnoticed. 

  “What’s wrong?” Scar asked, looking concerned, emotion returning to his face, “that cough didn’t sound too good and—”

  The man cut himself off, eyes locking onto something on Grian’s face, eyes narrowing.

  “Is that blood?”

  Grian’s eyes widened, wiping his mouth, fingers coming back red. A million thoughts raced through his head, and he could see the same in Scar’s eyes. He could feel the roots coiling tighter in his lungs as he scrambled to find the right words to say.

  “Grian, why are you bleeding.” It wasn’t even framed as a question. Scar’s voice was strained, and— Grian couldn’t really name the emotion in it.

  He opened his mouth to respond but instead of words, flowers began spilling out of his mouth. Grian began to cough and choke, entire flowers falling out of his mouth. Scar only stared at him, the bloodied flowers falling into his hands. 

  “Grian, what is this?”

  “It’s— complicated—” he wheezed, the flowers slowly stopping.

  “Complicated?” Scar was shaking, now properly facing Grian, “what is this?”

  “I— can’t tell you,” Grian coughed, moving away from Scar.

  “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? Why didn’t you just tell me? Surely there’s a way to fix this?”

  Grian shook his head, “There isn’t. Not really—”

   “What do you mean not really? Does this have to do with that book Joel was telling me you were reading? About the diseases?” 

   Joel did what?

  Grian didn’t know what to say. Scar took out his communicator and began tapping at it furiously. He began to shift away from the man, wings shielding him from everything. Or rather, his wings shielding the world from him. 

  “He said you were looking at, what was it? Han-a- haki disease?”

  The words felt like a double punch to the gut. Grian parted his wings only enough to be able to see Scar squinting at his communicator screen.

  “Oh.”

  Grian didn’t dare to look. Scar’s voice was flat. The sun was covered by clouds now, the wind suddenly getting incredibly chilly.

  His heart was racing and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears as Scar was silent for a moment, most likely reading up on hanahaki. Which he somehow had gotten the information through  his communicator. 

  Then Scar started laughing.

   Laughing .

  It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t forced. It was pure genuine laughter that felt like it was meant to pierce Grian with millions of thorns. It wasn’t like Scar’s regular laugh, his beautiful laugh. No. This laugh was a mocking laugh. Mocking him. Mocking Grian . It was cold and cruel and almost inhuman.

  “Oh Grian ,” Scar laughed, Grian parting his wings to look at him, “you can’t be serious.”

   Scar was laughing at him. 

  The thorns in his lungs tightened, spots forming in Grian’s eyes. He tried to say something as Scar laughed and laughed and laughed and why wouldn’t he stop laughing . The wind picked up, cold and harsh, the sun completely blocked out by the dark clouds. Flowers began to crawl up his throat, his breathing panicked and head dizzy.

  Scar’s laughter echoed in his ears as the flowers poured out of his mouth, thorns digging into his lungs and into him . Grian bent over heaving and wheezing, the laughter loud and cruel, the weather suddenly harsh. The spots in his vision increased with each wheeze until it took over his whole vision as the thorns and roots pierced through his body reaching for the ground as Scar finally stopped laughing to say something.

  “I’ve never loved you, Grian.”

  Grian shot up in bed, wheezing and heaving, blood dripping from his mouth onto his sweater that contained more red blood than red dye at this rate. 

   Just a dream, just a dream.

  A horrifyingly realistic one. The laughter was clear in Grian’s head as if he had experienced it live. The water reflected down on the glass dome, indicating that it was sometime in the middle of the night. Grian felt groggy and he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. All he could feel really was the excruciating pain in his chest. And throat.

  There was no real food left in his chests or inventory, only gapples and potions and everything that was killing him. He groaned, weakness in every fiber of his being. He rolled over trying to get under the covers again, only to roll right out of bed into a pile of petals and blanket. 

  His wings were bent at an odd angle, his foot was in the wrong place and his vision was way blurrier than he thought. Grian managed to crawl out of the tangled mess he had become after what felt like two years. 

  Eventually, he got to his feet, only to realize his legs had turned into literal jelly as he crashed to the floor again. Groaning, Grian pushed himself upright after another two years worth of effort and energy. 

  He needed to get actual food. Grian wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him to make this decision. His subconscious confirmed via very terrible dreams that what he suspected was right. So really he should just let all his supplies run out and let the flowers in his body turn him into a permanent flowerpot. He coughed, a singular petal floating out and onto the ground.

  Grian found himself slowly but steadily making his way out of the mending book shrine. He didn’t know how, but he eventually ended up outside the hut. But what he did know is that it took up every single sliver of energy left in his body. 

  His base swam before his eyes, nausea building up in his throat. Grian stumbled forward, disoriented and unable to walk or stand or even see. What was he doing ? Why was he out here? He took a step forward, attempting to regain his balance.

  Something caught on his foot and the next thing he knew, the pathway was rushing to meet his face—

  “ Grian—!”