#HERE I AM AGAIN GOING FERAL GOING INSANE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tvntheatre · 8 days ago

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Hey author, did you really have to punch me in the heart like that?

And do it again? And again? In fact, tore my soul apart by the seams.

Y'know what, just entirely incinerate me won'tcha?— annnd I'm outta tags. Aw dang it.

And JESUS the artwork for this, Gods./pos

A picture is a moment in time captured forever - A reminder of the key events in your life, preserved for eternity. As you gaze into the past, you might even feel like you can reach through the frame and pull those feelings, those events, those people back into the present.

Thanks to The Second Coming, this feeling becomes reality for Mango, giving him a second change he'd never thought possible. Together with Purple and his past self, he may be able to change fate and have his whole family together. Of course, things are never that easy. Especially when the sins of the past still hang heavy over his head.

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With a single click, the moment was captured forever.

Mango’s kid, his shimmering Gold, grinned brightly at the lens from her spot on top of the podium, arms stretched up to triumphantly display her silver trophy. She’d been disappointed to have lost the final round of the tournament, of course, but the young stick had always rebounded quickly. She’d wiped her eyes, offered a handshake to the kindly Ruby kid who’d won, and accepted her place on the second highest podium with victorious pride.

The picture Mango took was glorious; not quite as precious as the real sight of his child’s accomplishment, but it would serve as a fond reminder. A window back on this precious day for years to come, even long after his child was grown and far from his side. A wistfulness grew in the tall stick’s chest at the thought. The day he’d be without his child was still a long ways away, but he knew he’d never be prepared for Gold’s inevitable departure from the nest and into the greater world. He couldn’t even begin to imagine a life without her.

“Woohoo!” The excited proclamation broke the older stick from his thoughts, looking down at his child just in time to see Gold kick open the front door of their abode. A broad, excited grin stretched from cheek to cheek across her face, illuminating the room like the little ray of sunshine she was. The trophy in her hands was thrust up into the air above her head as Gold continued to cheer, exclaiming wordlessly in her zealous excitement.

Mango took a moment to chuckle at his child’s antics before switching into dad mode to parent her out of this sudden hyperactive state, setting his camera aside for the moment to focus entirely on the present Gold. “Easy there, honey.” He gently scolded, taking the trophy into his own arms. It wasn’t particularly large, only about as long as Mango’s forearm, but it was more than heavy enough to break something if Gold got overexcited and began swinging it around. “Let’s put this somewhere we can show it off, eh?”

As he spoke, Mango hoisted the trophy onto the nearby bookshelf, where the sunlight from the window caused the metal to sparkle. It stood tall and proud, glittering silver standing out against the more earthy tones of their living room.

“Okay, okay!” The young stick agreed, a bubbly laugh mixed in with her words. She bounced on her heels as she gazed up at the silver trophy. “But I’m not stopping here! Next tournament’s in six months, and this time-” Her first pumped excitedly in the air, “-Gold’s going for the gold! You’re gonna be so proud!”

“I’m already proud!” Mango insisted joyfully, delighting in Gold’s squeal as he scooped his kid into a firm embrace and spun them around, “You worked so hard for this, I’d be proud even if you got last place!”

Gold’s only response to Mango’s praise was to continue to laugh, pretending to struggle in his hold while reveling in the twirling motions. He brought them down slowly, gently, only releasing her when her feet touched the ground. She bolted from his hold as soon as she could, little firecracker that she was. How Gold could still have so much energy after a fifteen-round tournament was beyond Mango’s comprehension. Just watching that final round had made Mango tired.

But still, he kept his chin up as he informed the younger stick, “After all that hard work today, I think it’s only fair that I let you choose dinner tonight. You can have anything you want-”

“Secret ingredient pie!” Gold cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration.

Mango frowned, annoyed for more reasons than that he’d have to throw together the family-famous, overly complicated secret ingredient pie. “-Anything you want that’s an actual dinner food.” He amended. “I’ll make the pie for dessert later, but you need to eat real food too, honey.”

“Aww.” Gold groaned, momentarily put out, before springing right back up. “Tacos, then?”

“Tacos sound good.” Agreed Mango, already compiling a list of ingredients in his head. “I’ll need to grab a few things from the store, but that shouldn’t take too long-”

“Wait!”

Mango had not taken but three steps towards the door when his child’s call caused him to spin around. She barreled towards him, the discarded camera clutched in her hands, and her skid to a stop came a few seconds too late, resulting in Mango having to reach out and steady her before she bowled him over. Gold didn’t miss a beat, immediately hopping back and holding out the camera for her father to take.

“We gotta take one more picture!” The younger stick insisted, “You took like a million pictures of me at the tournament, but we don’t have any of us together!”

Taking the camera, Mango briefly flicked through the photos and found that Gold was right: though he had taken plenty of her preparing for the tournament, at least one from each match, and had those perfect, precious shots of Gold’s triumphant smile at the podiums, there were none of the two together. Of course there weren’t. This was Gold’s special moment, Gold’s time to shine, and the fact that her only complaint of the day (besides no pie for dinner, which was just typical kid nonsense) was that her dad wasn’t sharing in this victory with her was… just so Gold.

How a stick like him ended up with a kid like her he’d never know.

“So we don’t!” Mango agreed lightheartedly, playfully tussling the kid’s hair. “Go get your trophy, we’ll take one real quick before I head out.”

While she did just that, Mango took the time to adjust the settings on the camera so the indoor photos wouldn’t be too dark to see. Mango heard her thundering footsteps approach before he was ready to look up. Gold, the little rascal that she was, pressed the cold metal of her trophy into the side of Mango’s face as she whined at him to hurry it up. Mango chuckled at her, chiding her gently even as he obeyed her request.

His arm outstretched to put some space between them and the camera, Mango alerted his child he was ready with a simple, “Say cheese!”

Trophy held high above her head, Gold cheekily replied, “Mascarpone!”

A click, a flash, and the moment was captured forever.

Gold snatched the camera out of Mango’s hand before he could move it back, trophy quickly discarded on the ground, and the older stick could only shake his head in response to her overeager antics. Her bright smile shined brilliantly as she gazed down at the photo, but in the span of a few seconds it grew duller and duller, until her smile transformed into a confused frown and her eyes reflected apprehension.

As a father, Mango was well aware that he had a weakness for his child’s frown. Logically he knew that he couldn’t just magically make everything in her life all sunshine and rainbows all the time. That just wasn’t realistic. But knowing this didn’t stop the curdling in his stomach at the thought that something in her life just wasn’t perfect, or the urge to fix it, no matter what it took.

“Honey?” He asked gently, “What’s the matter? Did the photo not come out right?” He leaned over her shoulder to take a look himself.

Gold didn’t resist, tilting the camera so her father could see the picture. “There’s something else in the background. I thought it might be a smudge, but… it has eyes…”

Mango didn’t need his child to point out the problem with the picture – he could easily see it for himself. At first glance it did indeed look like a bit of grime had gotten on the camera’s lens, but a closer look indicated that this wasn’t the case. The top of the figure looked like a stick, with a hollowed out head and brilliant emerald eyes, but the bottom half was more distorted, like a number of monstrous limbs sprouting out from their body in distorted blobs of flesh. Locking eyes with the figure caused Mango’s entire body to stiffen.

It was like it was… staring at him through the camera.

Unease stole the breath from Mango’s lungs, leaving him unable to vocalize his confusion. There was nothing like that… thing in their home. He was certain there wasn’t, even before he whipped his head around to stare at the spot in their kitchen where the figure would have been. Of course there was nothing there, just the scratched up kitchen table standing where it always did.

Now Mango’s expression matched his child’s confusion, “What is that-?

A strange noise, like the distorted buzzing of television static, drew the tall stick’s attention back to the photo. Mango’s breath stilled again, for an entirely different reason this time. The figure had moved. Its arm was stretched out towards them, hand open as if inviting the two sticks to take it, to pull them into that picturesque world with it and remain in that moment of time.

A chill ran down Mango’s spine. “Delete the picture. Now.”

The sudden command – or maybe the unnaturally stern tone in which it fell from Mango’s lips – caused Gold to jump, briefly fumbling with the camera as her little fingers search desperately for the delete button. When Mango’s eyes connected again with the picture, he could feel his heart stop as the ghostly image’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, its hand extending to grab rather than invite. Gold’s fingers found the delete button, but one tap did nothing. The second tap did nothing. Third, fourth, fifth… Gold mashed the button repeatedly, but the picture remained, the figure remained, the emerald illumination of its eyes growing brighter and brighter, closer and closer-

“It’s not working!” Gold’s obvious panic jolted Mango’s brain back into place and jump-started his fight-or-flight instinct. He snatched the camera out of her hand, noting how the glow of those eyes seemed to have reached the other side of the camera’s screen, threatening to melt through the frozen image and into reality. The only thing Mango could think to do was hurl the camera as far as he could and put himself between that ghoul and his kid, holding her close so that every inch of her was protected from the green light that had finally broken free of its glass prison. The emerald beam engulfed them both, expanding to completely swallow the father-child duo without even a second for them to move out of its way.

Then, in a flash, the green light vanished. All that remained of the Ochre family was a camera, cracked and abandoned on the floor of their small home.

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“-And we’ll finish this off with some fresh basil on top. Then, voila! The perfect lasagna!” Mango concluded, sprinkling the green leaves atop the lasagna with a touch of dramatic flair. Purple, predictably, was enraptured by the showmanship, their eyes alight with enchantment as they clung to his every word. It was always like this with them, though – whether it be cooking or fishing or whatever hobby of the week Purple had picked up, the kid would drag him through all of it with those same warm eyes, like the ‘Old Man’, as they oh so affectionately called him, could do no wrong. It melted Mango’s heart, and he’d often wonder if Purple was doing this to him on purpose.

He wasn’t the same stick he’d been on the day he’d lost his child, and he’d never be again, but slowly, surely, Purple was helping Mango grow into somebody new. That was a debt he’d never be able to repay.

Purple hummed over the meal, inspecting it exaggerated scrutiny. “Not bad, not bad…” They agreed, nodding in approval, “But it’s missing a little something…”

“Oh?” Mango cocked a brow at the younger stick. Knowing Purple, this could be a pleasant surprise worthy of a Michelin star restaurant, or the grossest thing he’d ever put in his mouth. Never in his life did Mango think he’d become a gambling man, and yet, here he was.

“Yeah, I think it could use a little…” Purple quickly whipped a white bottle from behind their back. A wild grin spread across their face as they held it precariously over tonight’s dinner, “MAYONNAISE!”

“NO!” Mango yelled back. He reached out to snatch the squeeze bottle, moving just slow enough for Purple to yoink it back with ease.

Vicious cackles fell from Purple’s lips. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” They assured him between chortles. The kid laughed like a jackal, far louder and scratchier than Gold’s delicate giggles, but Mango still found it charming all the same. So much so that it took actual effort to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upward.

“You’d better be.” Mango warned with faux gruffness in his tone. “You’re enough of a heathen as it is. There’s only so much blasphemy one stick can take in his own home.”

“Hmph.” Purple huffed dismissively at him, the effect somewhat diminished by the wide grin they couldn’t keep off their face. “If you ask me, you don’t blaspheme enough. Still,” A subtle change in Purple’s demeanor signaled the end of the game. Mango let himself relax and lean against the counter, confident that Purple wouldn’t destroy their dinner now that they’ve had their fun, “we haven’t even put this in the oven yet, and it looks incredible! I didn’t realize cooking was so much fun!”

Honestly, neither had Mango, before Gold’s presence had forced him to make the jump from an all-instant food diet to cooking from scratch. “It’s quite relaxing.” Mango agreed. “If you’re interested, I can teach you to make all sorts of new stuff.”

“Oh?” Purple glanced at him from the corner of their eye before looking down and beginning to play with the hem of their shirt, which Mango had quickly come to learn was something the kid did when they were nervous. It happened more or less whenever they tried to ask him for something, which just about broke Mango’s heart. “Then maybe… maybe you could teach me how to make your secret ingredient pie?”

Mango tried not to wince, but couldn’t help the sudden stiffening of his shoulders. Subconsciously, his gaze drifted from Purple to the picture hung beside them; The day of his last tournament, with the luster of Gold’s second place trophy being completely out-shined by her smile as she playfully pushed the trophy into her father’s face.

There were more differences between Purple and Gold than Mango could possibly count, but every day he seemed to find just as many similarities. One of which was their shared love for that confounded secret ingredient pie. It was… fine, as far as pies went. Sweet and soft, with a hint of tartness. Nothing you couldn’t get from any bakery standard fruit pie, and certainly not good enough to warrant the ridiculously complicated recipe that had been passed down through the generations of the Ochre family. And yet, somehow Mango had managed to end up with not one, but two kids who absolutely adored the taste of the stupid treat.

For every special occasion, little Gold would trail at his father’s heels and tug at his pants, begging to lick the spoon or mix the filling. With age Gold’s interest in the pie hadn’t wavered, begging time after time for her dad to teach him the recipe. But it was always such a pain, so Mango put it off. Not right now, he’d say. I’ll do it later. Maybe next time, again and again, and then…

And then Gold was gone. There would be no more ‘next time’.

Some part of Mango recognized that this was a chance to make up for his mistake, to knock away one of the many regrets he carried on his shoulders, and yet…

“Well, it’s… a bit much for your first time baking.” Mango waved away Purple’s request with a too wide smile. His cheeks hurt from forcing his grin so large. “Why don’t we start with something simpler… like cupcakes?”

Purple deflated a little, but much like Gold before them, they bounced back quickly, matching his fake smile with a sincere, if mildly sad one. “I do like cupcakes…” They brought their eyes up to meet Mango’s, and the sheer affection reflected back at him, even after being denied, was almost too much for his heart.

“Then we can make cupcakes tonight.” Mango compromised, talking over the twisted wrenching of his heart. He then gestured over to the pile of dishes from their dinnertime prep work that laid in the sink. “AFTER you finish cleaning the kitchen, of course.”

“Aww, what?!” Purple whined.

“Well, I warned you, didn’t I?” Mango laughed off the complete horror on Purple’s face at the prospect of doing their daily chores. “I told you, ‘it’s your turn to clean the kitchen, so think carefully about what we cook’, and you still chose lasagna for dinner.”

An adorable pout was the only response Purple had for Mango’s proclamation, crossing their arms and glaring menacingly at the pile of prep dishes soaking in the sink. After a moment of the dishes not being intimidated into cleaning themselves, Purple spun around towards Mango and fluttered their lashes, sidling up to Mango and staring up at him with big, watery eyes. “Old man~!”

“No.” Mango responded coolly, slipping and letting his smile show at Purple’s aghast expression.

“But- but- we both made the mess, so we should both clean it up!” They argued back.

Already the older stick was shaking his head. “Nope. We already agreed on a chore schedule, and I’ve done all my chores for today, including cleaning up many of your messes. You can’t change the rules now just because they don’t suit you anymore.”

With that the oven timer dinged, and Mango redirected his attention back to tonight’s dinner. He slipped on a pair of oven mitts and delivered the lasagna to the oven, all the while Purple was muttering agitatedly behind him. “So not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, kiddo.” Mango replied back, slamming the door to the oven shut. “Get used to it.”

The kitchen then went silent, save for Purple’s irritated muttering, which in itself was slowly petering out. Mango liked to think that Purple was maybe going to accept their lot and just do the stupid dishes, but he knew that it was far more likely the kid had only shut up to try and scheme their way out of their chores. There were only so many ways one could escape the ever-present threat of dirty dishes, however, and Mango was confident enough in his counter-strategies to not pay Purple any mind, instead directing his attention to setting the table.

Peace reigned for only a short time in their home, however, before a cacophony of shouts and blur of colours tore through Mango’s kitchen like a tornado, sucking Purple in as the colourful gang that made up Purple’s friend group trampled through his kitchen. The five sticks emerged in waves; first Green and Red, leading the pack with enthusiasm and gusto as they embraced Purple eagerly. Following suit was the Yellow one, the bright kid to whom Mango had entrusted that stupid staff he’d made, easily slipping behind the others to startle Purple with a poke to their back. Blue was next, a little slower but with no less fervor that her friends as she pulled Purple into a headlock to grace them with a playful noogie. Finally, there was Second. They hung back a little from their friends at first, only approaching the group once everyone had calmed down to throw their arm around Purple’s shoulders in greeting.

Now, Mango didn’t necessarily dislike the kids. He honestly thought their positive and forgiving nature was a good influence on Purple. That said… “How the hell did you all get into my house?” He demanded flatly.

Yellow grinned back at him, using Purple as an armrest to prop herself up. “You left the front window unlocked.” She informed him breezily, entirely too calm.

“I did not.” Mango crossed his arms as he retorted, subconsciously bristling as five of the six kids began to snicker at him. The last one, Second, merely twiddled their thumbs in the back of the party, focused entirely on their fingers even as their entire body stood tensed behind the others.

“Not the bottom front window.” Blue chimed in, pointing to the clerestory window just above the front entrance. Sure enough, the thing was open, but Mango was absolutely certain he’d have heard the kids come in through that thing. They were many things, Purple’s friends. Subtle was not one of them.

Sharp squealing cut the conversation short, and before Mango could find its source Purple suddenly yelped and fell to the floor. Mango’s heart jumped into his throat, suffocating him for a prolonged, painful second before playful laughter restored his breath. In the middle of all that commotion, nobody had noticed the friend group’s infamous pig until it had tackled Purple to the ground to shower the young stick in licks and snuggles. Purple responded in kind, petting the pig atop its head with a little chuckle.

“Whoops!” Red ran forward to scoop his precious pet up. “Sorry Purple! Reuben hasn’t seen you in a while, so he got a little too excited, didn’t you boy?” Red’s voice went high-pitched and cooing as he praised his pig. “Yes, you did! Yes you did, you silly little man!” Purple could only laugh at the tone of Red’s voice and continue to scratch the top of the pig’s head.

As precious as the moment was, Mango couldn’t even bring himself to savour it before reality caught up with him. “Oh no,” He interrupted, pushing himself to the center of the crowd. “No, you all know the rules: No Minecraft stuff on the main floor! Keep it in the basement, or take it home!”

Red gasped, holding the pig close. “Reuben’s not a stuff! He’s a member of the family, aren’t you boy?” Red scratched under the pig’s head as Purple scratched its ears, utterly lavishing it in attention.

“I don’t care if its your twin!” Interrupted Mango. “I’m not getting arrested for video game smuggling because of you chuckleheads!” Back during the ‘Plan’, Mango hadn’t really cared about taking such risks, but now he had something to lose if he went to jail. He was willing to make exceptions for Purple – this was Purple’s home too, after all, and he could trust the kid to be careful with their elytra. The rest of the gang? Not so much. “It stays in the basement, or it goes home. Pick one.”

Red made a show of his reluctant acceptance, sighing theatrically as he picked up his pet. “I’m so sorry, Reuben.” Sobbed the sorrowful stick, clutching the pig close as if this were a eulogy and not just sticking it in the basement. “You’re just too much pure goodness for this… sinful world!”

The display had even Purple, monarch of melodrama themselves, rolling their eyes. “We’ll go down and spend some quality time with him later.” They promised, “We can… uh, play catch?” They suddenly looked a little lost, “Do pigs like catch?”

This seemed to be enough to placate Red, for now. As they walked towards the basement, Mango turned to Yellow. “And you-”

“Staff’s already down there.” Yellow promised, briefly flicking through her inventory to demonstrate its emptiness. “Teleported it when we got here, don’t worry.”

That suited Mango perfectly fine. In addition to the whole not being arrested thing, he’d rather not have to handle that staff again. It was a brilliant feat of engineering, a masterful display of game code. It was also the catalyst to a near apocalypse Mango himself had caused for the sake of punishing everyone – anyone – for Gold’s fate. By the time he’d realized what he’d done, Mango had nearly lost a second child, and almost killed Notch knows how many innocents.

So, needless to say, he’d prefer to not have to look at that thing.

By this point Red and Purple had returned, sans pig. Green’s elbow into his side and whisper into his ear caused Red to suddenly perk up, dour expression brightening exponentially as if suddenly reminded of something. Blue and Yellow, on the other side of Purple, exchanged a knowing look as they smirked at each other. And Second, who’d taken advantage of Red’s scene to withdraw to the shadows behind the group, was suddenly pulled back to the forefront with the others.

Alarm bells once again rang in Mango’s head. “Did you kids, uh… want to stay for dinner?” A whole lasagna was probably enough to feed all seven of them. Though he’d hoped to have leftovers for the next few days, Mango supposed he could make the sacrifice. For Purple’s sake. “We’re having lasagna.”

Blue’s eyes immediately lit up in interest. “Ooh~! Lasagna! That’s a recipe I don’t have yet!” As if by magic, a pencil and paper appeared in Blue’s hands. “I’ve been meaning to try recreating a dish from taste alone. I bet I can identify all the ingredients-”

“The food can wait!” Unable to contain the excitement he’d clearly been holding this entire time, Green finally let loose, cutting Blue off at the pass as his patience ran dry. He jumped on his heels before rushing towards Purple, taking the startled stick’s hand to pull them forward. “We came here because we have big news! Huge news! GIGANTIC news! And you’ll never guess what it is!”

Purple squirmed back and forth in the other’s hold. “Uhh…” They leaned away from Green’s entirely too close face, and Mango took that as his cue to intervene before the kid exploded from embarrassment or something.

“Go on, guess!” Insisted the green stick, his hold on Purple not loosening until Mango’s firm grip pulled Purple out of the smog of excitement to get some calming fresh air.

Once he was certain Purple had gotten a gulp or two of tranquil space, Mango set the young stick down and directed his attention back to Green. “Just get to the point.” Mango insisted for all of their sakes.

The denial didn’t do anything to diminish Green’s excitement, or the enthusiasm of the four fighters as they worked together to push Second into the limelight. Being thrust into the center of attention only caused the already nervous stick to grow ever more anxious, their entire body going stiff at the sudden sensation of eyes trained on them from every direction. Now, Mango didn’t know know these kids quite as well as Purple did, but he’d squared off against Second more than once in his quest to destroy Minecraft, and the orange stick never showed fear like this, even when things were at there most dire. So what could be causing them such distress…? Combined with the excitement of the other four sticks, Mango could hear the alarm bells getting louder.

Oblivious to their friend’s blatant discomfort, Green blurted out, “We just found out… that Sec has super powers!”

Mango could feel his eyebrows skyrocket up as he stared at the excited group of children, mouth agape. At his side, he could hear Purple exclaim, “Yo, what?!” Followed by the sound of excited arm flapping.

Second scratched at the skin on their arm, holding themselves with all the rigid attention of a child at the principle’s office. “Yeah, heh. Surprise…”

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Purple’s proclamation only brought Second more discomfort, and Mango reached over to take hold of the kid and force them to calm down, lest the downcast and blushing Second keel over and die on the spot, but Purple slipped away before he could make contact. In a blink of the eye Purple was in Second’s face, bouncing energetically on their toes as they eagerly questioned, “What kind of powers? What can you do?”

“Oh, you know, just the typical stuff…” Second trailed off, their eyes focusing on a spot on the ceiling instead of Purple’s wide, bright expression. “Flying, telekinesis, healing, electricity… uh, eye lasers…”

Each item added to the list only caused Purple’s smile to grow and grow, until a wide grin was stretched across their face. In any other circumstance such a look would cause Mango’s heart to melt, but at this moment it only caused an electric tingle along his spine to signify incoming danger. Flapping their arms again, Purple demanded, “You HAVE to show them off!”

A cacophony of agreements came from the rest of Second’s friends. They were all varying levels of excited; Green seemed most eager, strongly encouraging Second by lightly shaking their shoulder. Red squealed in open excitement, and Blue immediately started pleading with wide puppy-dog eyes. Only Yellow kept some modicum of self-control, but curiosity and excitement still lit up her eyes. Despite the discovery being fairly recent, it seemed none of these kids had any experience with Second’s powers, and that caused a pit of dread to form in Mango’s stomach. This was a recipe for disaster.

Hurriedly, he tried to speak up, “I don’t think-”

Mango’s attempt to interrupt was completely bowled over by Purple in their excitement. “What should we have you do?” They wondered aloud. “Maybe we can set up some targets for you to shoot down?” The other kids seemed eager, nodding along to that idea. “Or you can race me flying with my elytra! Or-!” Purple suddenly gasped, hands covering their mouth as they smiled wider, “Or you can use your powers to clean up our entire kitchen!”

For a brief moment, annoyance trounced Mango’s anxiety, “Purple, that’s your chore for the day. You can’t just use your friends to do your chores for you.”

Purple only paused to give Mango a smug, satisfied look, before completely disregarding his words. If anything, Mango was certain his disapproval had only prompted Purple to go ahead with the request. “Please, won’t you clean the kitchen? Pretty, pretty please?”

The fluttering lashes and puppy dog eyes worked better on Second than Mango himself, but not quite enough to completely convince them. Conflict clear on their face, Second shrunk in on themselves and dug their nails into their arms. None the wiser to Second’s inner turmoil, each of their friends began pilling into them, begging incessantly.

“Come on, please~!” Red whined, pulling on Second’s arm.

“I’ll make you all the cookies!” Blue promised from their other side, pushing her head into the crook of their neck. “Like, so many cookies!”

“With that much stuff? It’ll be epic to see if flying all around!” Yellow mused. “I bet with enough practice you could pull off a ‘Wizard’s Apprentice’!” Her arms flapped at the thought, “Ooh, man! That would be the coolest!”

“You gotta show Purple what you can do!” Green pleaded, giving Second a sorrowful pout that would put even Purple’s best acting to shame. “Please! Please! Please! PLEASE!”

The kid demonstrated an iron will as they shook off their friend’s clutching hands and pleading eyes to put some distance between them. “Guys, I dunno…” Second kept their eyes away from their friends, focusing instead on a spot on the wall. “I’m still pretty new at this… and I don’t want to mess anything up…”

Despite their clear reluctance, Second’s friends kept egging them on, and Mango stepped forward to put a hand on Second’s shoulder. “I agree.” He stated, giving the kids a glare when they started to protest. “These powers sound like they’re still new, and using them so haphazardly would be blatantly irresponsible, especially for chores. You kids could stand to be a bit more thoughtful about this.”

Mango looked down, prepared to reassure Second that they were indeed doing the right thing, only to find Second staring up at him. Their lips were pressed thin as they pierced him with a burning, non-laser glare for a long, long moment, as if trying to see into his very soul. After a moment, the orange stick turned back to their friends. “On second thought, let’s do it.”

“What?!” Mango shouted in disbelief, his exclamation drowned out by the cheers and hollers of the others. The rainbow whirlwind sucked Second back in and absconded to the center of the kitchen, their voices blending into a single tangle of noise as they discussed the upcoming show. The sudden change in Second caused Mango to freeze in place, staring stupidly after the group. This… well, if Mango was being honest, this was far more like the Second he knew from their previous encounters than the skittish stick that had stepped into their home only a few minutes prior. But the fact that Second had even been that nervous to begin with…

Well, there was nothing else Mango could do but swallow his apprehension, make a silent vow to try reverse psychology on the rebellious brats next time, and trail after them.

By the time Mango had rejoined the group, the others had forcibly propped Second up onto the table Mango had just set like, not even ten minutes ago. Though clearly still wracked with nerves, they took a moment to gain their balance atop the structure, knees a little wobbly.

Despite the resistance he’d faced previously, Mango tried one more time to talk sense into Purple’s friends. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Mango was surprised to see that Green was the first to turn to him, a fierce glare aimed directly at the protesting adult. Everyone else seemed to have varying levels of exasperation and confusion at Mango’s interference. After a moment of silence, Second responded. “Yeah, I know. But it’s fine. I can do this.” Second looked down at their own hands, gaze unfocused. “I can do this.”

Second’s eyes fell shut, and when they opened again, their natural green colour had sharpened into a bright, illuminating emerald shine. Electricity crackled and zapped as it crawled over their form, stretching away from Second’s body to spread across Mango’s kitchen. The faint scent of ozone began to permeate the air. Mango could feel static run across his exposed joints, causing him to shiver. After a moment of just this, Second’s body lifted off the table, hovering in the air a few meters above the floor. Soon enough, other things in the kitchen began to lift up as well – the clean dishes on the dining table, the table itself, the chairs. In the span of maybe thirty seconds, everything in the kitchen lighter than the microwave was hovering weightlessly in the air, as though being touched by Second’s sparking power had turned off the gravity.

In spite of his early complaints, Mango couldn’t help the awe that washed over him as he took in the display of power. There was a pattern to the movement of the objects, to the flowing of electricity, that was nothing short of graceful. To his side, Mango could hear Red oohing and awwing over the display, drowning out Yellow’s mumbling as she thought aloud to herself. There was buzzing on Mango’s other side as well; whispers between Blue and Purple as they observed the show. When he glanced over at the kids, Mango found Green also present at Purple’s side, watching Second with a painfully familiar expression. One Mango saw every time he looked at a picture of himself and his Gold: Pure, unadulterated pride.

Second’s power soon brought order to the chaos they’d made of Mango’s kitchen, conducting the flying dishware in a delicate ballet. Every single item bobbed and weaved around each other to the rhythm of an intricate melody nobody but the Second Coming could hear. The swishing and swirling of water drew everyone’s attention to the sink, where a stream of water began to bend and twist upward to form rings between the layers of dancing cutlery.

“Hydrokinesis!” Yellow gasped. “That’s a new one!”

The scratching sound of pencil meeting paper was only barely audible over Blue’s inquiry, “Is it really hydrokinesis, though?” She scratched her chin, “Or just… telekinesis used on water?”

“Is there a difference?” Red asked.

All three of them were immediately hushed by Green, “Let them do their thing.’ He scolded roughly. Mango hadn’t considered that there was a second in command among the group of friends, but given how everyone immediately shut up at Green’s order, it seemed the most melodious stick took that role when Second was out of commission.

Once everyone had quieted down, Mango returned his attention back to Second’s show. Along with the ring of water, globs of what Mango assumed was soap had joined in the choreography. The tempo and melody of Second’s inaudible song changed, transforming the ballet into something more of a waltz. The dishes flowed from water to soap to water, two steps forward, one step back, before the clean dishes were added to an entirely new ring of floating tableware to dry. On and off flickered the ceiling lamp as Second’s power crawled across it, and combined with the jade sparks of lightning that flowed freely through the room, it completely transformed Mango’s kitchen into a much larger, more ominous space. Mango’s fingers twitched, itching with sudden nerves, and to sooth them he reached around Blue to take one of Purple’s hands. Though he couldn’t see Purple’s face, Mango could feel the kid squeeze his hand back, and for a moment all fear was erased from his mind.

Then a plate broke.

Its shattering echoed loudly through the entire house, trampling over any thought Mango could have formed and forcing all attention on it. Throughout the entire performance, Second’s face had been one of pure concentration, serenely focused on the energy surging about, but the sound had utterly destroyed any illusion of control Second had beforehand. Panic flittered in their illuminated eyes as they stared down at the shards of ceramic littering the kitchen floor, no longer affected by Second’s power.

“Ahh!” They cried out, startled by the mistake. Immediately Second’s body language changed, shrinking in on themselves as they focused their attention on the broken plate. Their power forced the shattered remains into the air once again. “Uhh, d-don’t worry, I can fix it!”

The change of attitude caught them all off guard, and Mango’s dread returned tenfold, churning his stomach. Green was the first to speak up, stepping forward with arms held out in an attempt to placate Second. “Hey, dude, it’s okay-”

Unfortunately for Green, his attempt at reassurances only startled Second further, and a glass cup exploded into millions of tiny shards against a wall. Mango subconsciously pulled Purple closer at the sound, heart beating a mile a minute in his chest. Second themselves squealed frightfully, their attention redirecting again. The once meticulous dance had grown discordant in response to their distress, the dishware weaving and bobbing in random, quickening movements around the kitchen. Second’s uneven breathing could be heard over the sharpening crackle of lightning and thunder that was slowly growing louder and larger as the kid lost control. One of the larger bowls hit the corner of a chair, chipping it and causing more distress to the stick in the center of the chaos.

“Sec! Stop!” Red cried out. It was unclear if Second had even heard him; they were hunched over in the center of the room, practically hyperventilating as all their focus centered on the broken objects. More things began to break in the chaos; A cracked cup here, a bent fork there. The longer their panic continued, the faster the rings of crockery spun until the kitchen had become a veritable tornado. At this point even the appliances had begun to join in the anarchy.

Purple, still firmly clutching Mango’s hand, stepped forward. Not enough to be caught in the tornado, but enough that Mango could see fear in their eyes, and it only made him hold on all the tighter. “Dude!” Purple called over the noise. At this point the chaos had created a cacophony so loud Mango could barely hear the kid over it. “You need to calm down! You’re gonna destroy the entire house at this rate!”

The loud hiss of, “Purple!” From Mango came too late. The idea was already out there, and it only increased the sense of panic from every stick present. A pathetic whine signaled an increase in the speed of the spinning kitchenware. Green surged forward the instant he heard it, with Yellow barely being able to pull him back before he could get clocked in the head by a flying food processor.

“H-hey!” Blue worked her way in front of the group, hands held out placatingly in front of her. “Second, try and focus on me, okay? It’s going to be alright. I’m going to approach now – slowly.” True to her word, Blue made small, cautious steps forward. The wild winds whipped her hair violently, but she showed no signs of distress against their might, “I’m going to make my way to you, and you’re going to calm down, and nobody’s going to get hurt. We’re going to be fine.”

And, for a brief moment, it seemed like she was right. Second’s eyes were glued to her approaching form, and the sight of her smile eased the tension from their body.

“Look out!” Red shouted suddenly, then tackled poor Blue just moments before a spinning plate shot through the air where her head once was. Instead the dish continued to whirl through the kitchen, straight over the ceramic shards of another broken plate and right towards… towards the photo on the wall-!

Mango’s heart leapt into his throat. Without thought he started forward, maybe to throw himself between the flying dishware and one of his last memories of Gold, but by the time he’d released Purple’s hand and made the first step it was already too late. Though it took only a second in real time, to Mango it felt like it was playing out in slow-motion. The plate shattered against the frame, shards of ceramic and glass flying in every direction, and the frame fell to the ground. Wood splintered apart with a deafening crack as it finally hit the linoleum. The picture fell, face down, on the ground.

Around him, Mango could barely hear the sound of audible gasps and whispered exclamations over the ringing in his ears. The tips of his fingers felt cold and numb. For just that moment in time, nothing existed but him and the broken remains of Gold’s memory.

Green sparks crawled over the pictures, shaking Mango from his stupor and forcing him to tune back into reality. From the center of the kitchen he could hear a tangle of jumbled words and accelerated breathing, “No, no, this is okay, I can fix it, it’ll all be fine, I can fix it… I-I can fix it…!” Once the picture was levitated up, a miracle was revealed to Mango; though the frame was broken beyond repair, the picture itself appeared mostly in tact.

“Kid, hold up-” Mango tried to call out, turning to look at Second. Sharp emerald lights met his eyes in return, freezing the tallest stick in place for a bone-chilling instant.

“I can fix it, I can fix it, I can fix it…!” The haphazard promises fell from Second’s lips along with their labored breaths. Then they clutched their head and screamed, “I CAN FIX IT-!”

An explosion of emerald light knocked everyone back. Mango’s body tumbled maybe a meter or so before coming to a grinding halt. Mango winced at the burning sensation on his limbs, but the second he was able to move he immediately crawled over to the kids in order to put himself between them and the violent storm Second had made of his kitchen. The green energy had formed an opaque tornado, completely hiding The Second Coming from view. Through the chaos Mango could see shattered remains of plates, randomly bent cutlery, and even full-on appliances that had been forced airborne by Second’s power poke out of the squall before being sucked back in.

Mango barely had a minute to take in the catastrophe that Second’s show had become before the kids’ chatter redirected his attention. “Okay, let’s not panic!” Yellow instructed, pushing her glasses up as she picked herself off the ground. “We can- uh, we got this! If we just ground the lightning-”

“Ground it with what?!” Red snapped back, gesturing wildly at the mess in front of them. “Sec’s power isn’t like normal lightning, that wouldn’t work!”

“And you have any better ideas?!” Purple demanded. Thankfully for Mango’s poor heart, the kid stayed down close to the ground, even as they joined in the argument.“We can’t just do nothing!”

Blue joined Yellow’s side quickly, fidgeting with her fingers. “It-It’s just because Sec’s panicking! We just need to wait for them to calm down, and-”

“And what, just leave them like this until then?!” Yellow questioned sharply, causing Blue to flinch back. If Yellow noticed, it didn’t show on her face. “I am not going to abandon them! Not after everything, I can’t-!”

Everyone seemed to wince in response to Yellow’s outcry, and the following tense silence was quickly filled with a pitiful, mournful wailing from the kitchen. The sound seemed to echo in Mango’s head, plucking at the strings of his heart painfully. And he barely knew Second; he couldn’t imagine how this must feel to the kids, who had known The Second Coming for their entire life.

A hitched breath drew Mango’s attention behind himself; Green had gotten a little lost in the chaos, overshadowed by the others yelling over themselves in an attempt to find a solution. That cry, however, had him marching ahead of everyone until he was standing directly in front of the entryway, his green form seeming to glow in the luminescence of the emerald lightning that surged along the tornado. Green’s fists were shaking, but if the expression on his face was anything to go by, it was not fear that caused him to tremble, but sheer determination.

After a moment of simply staring ahead, Green finally spoke aloud. “Screw it,” He said, and that was the only warning any of them had before he charged forward. “Hang on, Sec! I’m coming!”

Everyone watched him disappear into the chaos in stunned silence, before Yellow gritted her teeth and shouted, “Don’t worry, we’re on our way!” as she followed suit.

Blue and Red spared a moment to glance at each other, nodding as they each reached the same conclusion. Though they both jumped up at the same time, Red was on his feet first, running directly into the tornado with a battle cry.

Trailing directly after the others, Blue cried out, “It’s going to be okay, Second! We’re on our way!” as she barreled ahead.

Movement at his side jolted Mango’s attention as Purple stood up against the winds of the storm. Though their body was rigid in fear, conviction was strong on their face as they, too, began to run forward. Everything seemed to slow in that instant. Tension squeezed Mango’s lungs in his chest. All air escaped him in one startled gasp. Purple’s body seemed to transform, going from violet to deep yellow. The green light threatening to engulf them turned to black corruption. Red lights flashed at the corners of his vision. A fatal error has occurred, this connection is terminated.

“No!” Mango managed to force out, leaping to grasp Purple’s hand once again. His hold on them was tight like a vice. Though he could hear his own heavy breathing, his lungs burned with a craving for oxygen.

Though startled, Purple quickly began to struggle against Mango’s hold. “What are you doing?!” They asked, voice laden with desperation and fear in equal measure, and it only made Mango hold on all the tighter. “We- I have to get in there! Sec needs us- needs me!”

“I need you!” Mango forced out in a single, painful gasp. “I- I can’t lose another…! I’m not going to let you run to your death!”

Though the slip up made Purple’s expression soften some, they still held firm. “If we do nothing, then Sec’ll, like, I don’t know, explode or something! Then we’ll all die!” Instead of trying to get away, Purple clasped Mango’s hand with their other, meeting the taller stick's gaze with fire alight in their eyes. “I can do this! I promise, nothing will happen to me!”

Mango glanced down at their intertwined hands, Purple’s fingers gently rubbing soothing circles into his skin. Subconsciously his breathing began to follow the rhythm of the motions, and the burning fire in Mango’s chest was extinguished. With a deep breath and one final look into those pleading eyes, Mango relented. “Okay,” He said, but refused to release Purple’s hands. Instead he pulled the both of them up to a standing position. “Then we’ll go together.”

After a serious nod, Purple broke the tension with a playful wink. “Try to keep up, Old Man.” They teased, and something in Mango felt lighter, even in the face of oncoming danger.

With his hold firm on Purple, Mango began walking against the fierce winds of Second’s maelstrom. The gales of the tornado roared louder and louder the closer and closer they got, until its rumbling was all Mango could hear ringing in his ears. The sharp cold of it stung at his face, but Mango kept firm, doing his best to stay in front and shield Purple from the worst of it. One of Purple’s hands slipped from Mango, and a near heart attack was mitigated when he looked back to see Purple pulling Red down from where he’d been sent flying back. Looking around, Mango could make out the three other friends scattered in various directions, struggling to walk against the wind only to be pushed aside by a particularly strong gust or forced to jump away from a large piece of debris haphazardly flying around.

“We can’t get close!” Red yelled over the rushing tempest. “We keep getting knocked back by all the stuff flying around!”

As if to demonstrate, a chair flew straight at them, only visible once it was moments away from hitting them. King quickly moved to pull Purple and Red down to the floor, covering their heads with his arm in order to protect them.

Purple was the first to lift themselves up, gritting their teeth. “Then how are we supposed to get through…?”

Yellow’s shout, barely audible above the roaring winds, drew Mango’s attention up and towards the irritated stick as she charged forward. She got close to the eye, a mere arms length away from the goal, before Green yanked her out of the way of a swarm of flying knives set to impale her in five different ways. His heroic efforts were rewarded by Blue being tossed into him and Yellow, knocking all three back to where Mango, Red, and Purple were hunkered down.

Not even a second after being tossed back, Blue was already back on her feet. She went to charge forth one more time, but was stopped by Green grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back. “This isn’t working!” He scolded, sounding angrier in his attempt to yell over the hurricane. “We have to try something else!”

“Well, what else can we do?!” Blue asked tearfully. In lieu of an answer he couldn’t give, Green instead took hold of her hand.

The gears in Mango’s head began to turn. They couldn’t get anywhere near the center of the storm; the winds were too strong, blowing so hard that it was impossible to make it to the center before being hit by the dangerous debris flying haphazardly around. A stick alone wouldn’t be able to breach the maelstrom without getting blown away, but there was no way a group could move through without getting hit by one of the large appliances or pieces of furniture caught in the tornado. Not without a shield to guard them.

Mango knew what he had to do. With a shaky breath he picked himself up, bracing his knees to stand against the storm. Purple made a concerned noise as Mango’s hand slipped away from theirs, but in spite of that Mango instead focused on his surroundings, on every little sliver of glass or lump of wood flying around that could hurt them. As he focused, Mango called back to the kids, “I have an idea!” Everyone looked up at him, all of the young sticks suffering various degrees of battery from their attempts to reach Second. “All five of you, huddle together and move in tandem! If you keep a firm hold of each other and work as a unit, you’ll be able to stand against the wind!”

“But what about all the stuff flying around?!” Red asked, even as he and the others moved to take hold of each other. Red was at one end, Blue next to him, then Green in the middle, with Purple at his side and Yellow on the opposite end.

Mango took a deep breath, focusing on the rapidly approaching microwave as it flew closer and closer. Once it was within range, Mango demonstrated exactly what would happen with all the stuff flying around. He braced himself against the floor and was only pushed back a few centimeters as he gripped onto the heavy appliance. Though taking the force and weight of the microwave made his arms ache, Mango spun around and tossed the now useless contraption to the side.

“I’ll take care of that.” He assured the children as he turned to them, forcing down the anxiety and pressure he felt and forcing up an encouraging grin. “You all just focus on getting Second out of there.”

Purple swallowed down their nerves before matching Mango’s smile. “Just be careful, Old Man. I’m not taking care of you if you throw your back out.”

Snorting, Mango turned away from the kids to focus on his job. “If you’re my nurse, I think I’ll take my chances with the lightning.” His voice then dropped, turning serious. “Now get moving!”

All of Mango’s attention then focused on the winds around him. He played the role of guard for the children as they inched along, using each other as support against the harsh gales. The friend group moved together in near perfect harmony. Purple’s inexperience, in comparison, was obvious. They stumbled where the others stepped smoothly, needing to glance at their feet or their friends while everyone else seemed to simply trust that the others would step where they needed to. Even with the handicap of Purple’s inexperience, however, they made surprisingly quick progress through the raging storm. Mango moved as quickly as he could to knock back any debris, any heavy machine, any sharp piece of glass or ceramic that could harm the kids. They were encouraging each other behind him, counting down the steps until they reached their goal.

“Just a little closer!” Purple cried out as Mango wrangled a cabinet door away from the group. Their voice was almost entirely lost in the wind that surrounded Second. “Just… a little…!”

And then the five disappeared into the heart of the storm. Mango breathed a sigh of relief, switching up his focus to dodge the hazardous kitchenware instead of blocking it head on. Nothing in the tornado ventured any closer to the eye than where the children had just entered, so Mango could be certain they’d be fine from then on. A bone-deep ache made itself known as Mango let himself relax a touch, but he didn’t fall back. Instead Mango rooted himself firmly nearby, alert for any kind of disturbance in the maelstrom; any sign that the kids were distressed or injured.

That was all he could do for now, besides put his trust in them.

---------------------

Second could barely hear the sound of the winds whipping about over their own heart pounding in their ears. Every part of them burned; their throat, their lungs, their arms, their eyes. Shaking fingers yanked at their long, flowing hair. The cyclone’s violent winds pressed down on them harder with every haggard breath they took, stealing the air from their lungs as they slowly suffocated in their gale storm of despair.

The storm had started as a seed of panic within them, planted as the sound of shattering ceramics itched at their skin. With very new mistake, every blatant screw up, every near miss on their dearest friends’ lives, the seedling began to sprout, bringing with it a harsh, ashy wind that left a bitter sensation on their skin. The photograph’s destruction had been like bone-meal, escalating the growth of the squall until it swallowed Second whole. The winds raced at the same rate as their heart as it pounded within them, fighting to escape the cage of Second’s body. With each forced beat the ache inside of them grew and spread. They were dying, Second’s thoughts screamed at them from within their fuzzy brain.

They were going to die here.

They were doing to die here.

And it was all… their… fault…

This wasn’t the first time Second had ruined everything. Every new experience they brought to their friends was marred by pain and death in some form. The darkest corner of their mind swirled with memories of their torn-apart, dying bodies slowly fading into distorted code, or disappearing in a puff of gray smoke as their programs were ended without a second thought. Their own hands tingled with the memory of a cold steel blade pierced through Green’s body, or violet bruises ringing on their fists as they looked down at Red’s frightened face. At every step, through carelessness or powerlessness or their own unhinged actions, Second was always forced to watch the most important parts of their life suffer and agonize and absolutely languish in pain.

Why had they thought they could fixthis? Second knew they’d lose control, knew that this power would poison what they’d built, but they’d made the mistake of giving in, and now they were going to die.

They were going… to die…

All alone… after ruining everything…

They… they were… going to…

“Sec!” A sharp voice cut through the cyclone, jolting Second out of their thoughts with a wave of prickles along their body. Before they could even register the origins of the sound, a pair of arms encircled their waist. The touch was soft and sweet, causing the burning of Second’s body to ease just a little bit; just enough that they could make themselves look down to lock eyes with Green. He smiled up at them, not so much as flinching against the blazing heat of Second’s shining emerald gaze. “I’m here! I’ve got you!”

Stunned, Second couldn’t even bring themselves to return the embrace before another pair of arms forcibly wrapped around them. “Don’t worry, Sec!” Red assured through a large, vibrant grin. “It’s just a little thunder, nothing we can’t handle!”

Another jolt to their side signaled Yellow’s entrance, squeezing them so hard that rough burning churning within them was squeezed out, to be replaced a soft, bittersweet pressure. “Told ya, didn’t I?” Yellow asked, never once letting her hold loosen. “I’m not letting anything tear us apart.”

Next to join in the group hug was Blue, her shimmering eyes taking in the fierce, violent green of the lightning and reflecting back only a soft, gentle aura of emerald. “I know you must feel so scared right now,” She consoled, her voice feather-light on their skin, “But you’re not alone – everyone’s here! We’re all here with you!”

Last but not least, Purple forced themselves into the hug by worming their way between the others to snake their arms around Second’s middle. “Pfft, if you’re trying to get rid of me,” They scolded jokingly, “It’s gonna be a lot harder than that, Sec.”

Though the storm raged on, Second found themselves unable to tear their focus away from their friends. The many arms around them were velvety smooth, sweet on their skin with a tang of desperate heat. Their voices caressed Second with gentle softness as they whispered fluffy comforts for the winds to carry to their ears. Warmth flooded over Second’s entire body, forcing out the various aches from all over. Second’s shoulders relaxed as they took in a deep breath. Oxygen hit their lungs for the first time since the picture broke. Second’s eyes fluttered shut as they let themselves relax.

What had they been so worried about? Despite the accidents, the threatening villains, the near-death experiences, they always came through it together on the other side. Mistakes were forgiven, wounds were healed, and no matter what came their way, Second could stand against it, firm in the knowledge that their loved ones were at their side, supporting them all the way.

As long as Second had them, they’d be okay. They could fix anything.

Second opened their eyes. Beyond the twister they found a pair of silhouettes, a tall one and a short one. Second couldn’t make out their faces, but the tension in their limbs betrayed their obvious fear. The emerald eyes of the super-powered stick remained trained on the nervous figures,

It’s okay, Second tried to tell them, to reassure the clearly frightened figures, but all that escaped their mouth was a staticky noise that made their friends hug them all the tighter. Upon realizing that their voice was turned off for the time being, Second instead reached out to the pair, to try and show them that it would be alright, that they weren’t alone, that help was right there and ready for them.

The strangers grew more panicked, and Second stretched their arm further to reach for them. All of Second’s attention was hyper-focused on the two upset figures, to the point where everything beyond them and the arms around Second’s waist disappeared from their mind. All they wanted was to give the two strangers a little taste of the comfort that everyone’s presence granted them. To fix the pain they could sense on the pair and stop the fear that was clearly growing stronger and stronger within them as they fiddled anxiously with something in the smaller one’s hand. Second felt something deep inside them urging them to keep extending their arm, to keep pulling at the two figures. To fix the distress on their face and bring them home.

All they had to do was reach a little further… further… just a bit more…

And then everything disappeared in an explosion of brilliant emerald light.

--------------------

Between the ringing in his ears and the throbbing in his head, Green was certain he’d be in for a world of hurt the moment he opened his eyes. Despite this, the distant murmurs of fear and horror from his friends had Green forcing his eyelids up, inviting a piercing beam of light and agony into his brain. Seconds stretched into years as Green waited for the discomfort to fade enough for him to focus his eyes and look out over what was once the Ochre family’s kitchen. Now the room was in absolute shambles; everything, from the smallest plate to the gigantic refrigerator, was damaged in some way. The linoleum floor, cool on Green’s aching legs, was positively littered with shards of glass and ceramic. A food processor was stuck in the wall, its cord dangling uselessly over a crack in the tile beneath it. Water formed small pools throughout the room, one dangerously close to an electrical outlet on the opposite wall. The only electronic in the room that still functioned a little bit was the ceiling light, which flickered on and off rapidly enough to compound Green’s growing headache.

Green forced down a swallow as he took in the wreckage. The memory of Sec’s pleading, of the fear on their face, played in his mind like a broken record, and then his eyes began to burn anew. Just a few minutes ago they’d all been having fun, and Second had finally begun to relax. He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, they were finally starting to accept themselves… and then everything exploded. The thought of how Second must be feeling was like his heart was sinking to the bottom of his stomach, swirling its contents into bile.

Still, there was much to be done, so despite the nausea and tears threatening to break through Green pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as the pounding in his head compounded. He fought through the fuzz at the edges of his vision and the painfully loud ringing in his ears to focus on his friends, to try and ascertain their current condition. Mango was the first one he was able to pinpoint, and naturally the taller stick had rushed to Purple’s side. Other than a few bumps and bruises, neither of the two looked too badly injured. Red appeared to be fine too, sitting next to Yellow and speaking unintelligible words to her. Yellow’s one leg was splayed out in front of them, and when Red made contact with her ankle she winced. Green couldn’t see how badly it was swollen, or if there was any sign of a break, but the fact that she was injured at all nearly brought Green to tears again. He forced it down and left Yellow’s care to Red, scanning across the room until he found Blue, also mostly unharmed, hovering anxiously over Second’s body with her hand on their neck.

The sight of his motionless friend caused Green’s breath to catch in his throat. No… were they… did he cause his best friend to…?

Mere moments later Blue’s shoulders relaxed and she visibly exhaled, a small smile forming under her tired eyes. Green echoed her relieved sigh. Second was… alive, at the very least.

In the little time between awakening and checking on his friends, the ringing in Green’s ears had died down. Not completely gone, but low enough that he could now hear the others chattering amongst themselves. Their voices blended together into a cacophony of noises, and Green found himself unable to tell his friends apart. He could catch the occasional word, but without context they made virtually no sense.

Mango unexpectedly stood up at the other end of the room, his shoulders stiff with tension as he immediately stood to put himself between Purple and… something. Because they hadn’t moved Green had initially overlooked them, but following Mango’s gaze Green could see… someone in the corner of the room. An extra person- no, two extra people, lying unconscious on the floor nearby. Green struggled to focus entirely on them and Mango, who made a hush motion in response to Purple opening their mouth to say something, before steadily approaching the two new entities. His face was set with grim determination as he approached the figures, but as he got closer, it gradually shifted. Mango’s eyes widened, beginning to bulge out of his head, and Green forced everything into focusing on the older stick as he inched over to that dark corner, truly taking their new guests.

And then he started laughing.

A loud, humourless cackle that reminded Green more of the mad king who’d almost killed them all than Purple’s sarcastic guardian. Green continued to push through the fuzz in his brain as Purple picked themselves up and raced over to the old man. They paused once they reached him, staring in shock at the source of Mango’s distress.

“It’s finally happened!” Mango declared between laughs, his eyes completely glazing over with a sheen of distress. “I’ve finally gone insane!”

Purple, eyes wide, stepped in front of Mango with their arms stretched out in an attempt to placate him. “No, no!” They assured him, words rushed in their panic. “You’re not crazy, I promise, I see them too! P-please stop laughing-!”

“-I’m fine! I’m not the one who, exploded, you need to go help Blue-!”

Green winced, struggling to stay focused as everyone else’s voices began to pick up volume, fighting each other for his attention.

“Okay, c’mon, wake up-!”

“You can’t walk on that, are you nuts-!”

The voices pounded in Green’s ears to the rhythm of his racing heart.

“H-hey, come on, take some deep breaths-!”

“Seriously, let go-!”

“Please, Sec, please-!”

He groaned as he held his throbbing skull. Every noise was blending together; the voices of his friends, the dripping of water from the sink, the buzz of the malfunctioning light as it flickered on and off, on and off, on and off, poking at his brain through his pupils. The bile in his stomach churned again, fighting to rise up his esophagus.

“I- This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real, this has to be-!”

“C-come on, Old Man, focus-!”

“Yellow, will stop trying to-!”

“Get off of me-!”

“Come on, Blue, think-!”

“Will you all just SHUT UP?!” Green shouted over all of them. Every single stick in the room went totally silent, finally relieving a little bit of the pressure in his skull. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Green used the wall to help himself stand. Though his limbs ached, the worst of the pain was in head, allowing Green to stand without opposition. Looking out over the chaos, Green felt something well in him at the scared, desperate looks his dearest friends were giving him; Guilt and determination and sorrow. It fueled the flame within him, and Green took charge, immediately pushing past the pain to issue commands. “Yellow, let Red help you to the living room.”

“I’m fine-!” The injured stick tried to object.

Green immediately shut that down. “No, you’re not. If you were, you would have walked away from Red by now.” Green sighed. “Look, I don’t want to be mean, but if you try to walk on that ankle you’re going to make it worse. And the last thing we need right now is for things to get worse. It’ll only take a few moments for Red to help you walk to the armchair. Let him do that, and we won’t have to worry anymore, alright?”

Any protests died on Yellow’s lips as she absorbed Green’s argument. Though she may not have been happy about it, the logic won her over, and she huffed in irritation even as she hooked an arm around Red’s shoulders. The two began to stand in order to limp out of the room, and Green shifted his focus.

Mango’s breakdown had been halted by Green’s sudden cry, too stunned to continue, and Green used this opportunity to make his way over to him and Purple. The violet stick quickly moved to the side to let Green through, and for the first time Green was able to get a clear look at the new sticks summoned by Second’s power. His eyes immediately went wide as he absorbed the sight before him.

The first of the two newcomers, the taller one, looked nearly identical to Mango. The very few differences were entirely cosmetic; his hair was a little shorter, his clothes a little neater. There were no bags under his eyes or scars on his body from the fight for Minecraft. Small though the differences may be, they made a huge impact, making this version of Mango look ten years younger than the reformed tyrant Green knew. Curled under his arm, as though shielded from the entire world, was the second, smaller stick. Their body was a deep gold, and despite not knowing anything about this stick, Green was immediately struck with a sense of deja vu. It felt like he’d seen them somewhere before, but the context entirely escaped him.

Green was not, however, stupid. Given how the other Mango was curled protectively around this new stick, and the real Mango had a mental breakdown at the mere sight of them, Green was certain this new stick was someone of great importance to Mango. A few theories were already cooking in Green’s brain, but there were more important things to focus on at the moment.

“Once Red’s done helping Yellow,” Green informed the two, drawing their attention to him. Though Mango was no longer laughing like a madman, his eyes were almost entirely blank. Purple was more present, holding themselves anxiously as they focused entirely on Green. “He’ll help you guys get these two somewhere more comfortable. Should we put them in Mango’s room?”

A moment of silence fell over the two. Purple suddenly couldn’t meet Green’s eye, glancing awkwardly to the side, while Mango seemed to take a moment to process the question. Eventually, the old man answered, “We can put them in Gold’s room. It’s a little dusty, but it should be fine, I guess.”

Green cocked a brow at the taller stick. “Wait, Gold’s room…?” That answered some of Green’s questions and raised so many more, but for the moment Green restricted himself to the most important one. “There are only two bedrooms in this house. Where does Purple sleep?”

“I gave them my old room,” Mango answered without hesitation. Purple seemed to flinch at the confession, something like shame crossing their face. “These days I’m usually not sleeping through the whole night anyways, so I’m good with just the couch.”

Well, at least Purple had a real bedroom. Still, something about this revelation left a sour taste in Green’s mouth. It would have to be dealt with at some point. Not now, though. Now, Red had returned, and Green flagged him over to assist, flinching a little as Red’s fast movements caused his head to spin.

“Uh, Red and I can handle, um, the old man- the other version of you, I mean.” Purple muttered, stumbling over their words. “You can take Gold- i-if you’re okay with that, that is.”

It took Mango a moment to recognize what Purple was saying, eyes glazed over as he stared vacantly at this Gold character. Upon realizing what was being asked of him, Mango’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched as he approached the two with heavy, slow steps. Gingerly he pulled back his other self’s arm to expose Gold, who stirred slightly but did not awaken. Mango’s hand lingered above them, hesitant to touch them. Slowly it lowered, flinching away from them several times in the process. Eventually, his hand met their face, and Mango’s eyes welled with tears when their body held solid against his touch. From there things moved quicker, Mango taking the younger stick into his arms with delicate care. Cradling them like a baby, Mango took long, careful steps out of the kitchen.

Purple watched after him until the two were gone, twiddling their thumbs. It took a gentle tap from Red to bring Purple back to reality, the other jumping a little at the touch. “Um, sorry.” Red scratched his head, a little awkward in the face of current tensions. “But, err, I don’t know where the bedrooms are, so I was thinking you could take the feet and direct us, and I’ll grab the head. You good with that?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Purple agreed. Green watched as the two set about lifting the taller stick up and out of the room. His aching head was absolutely throbbing, pounding in rhythm to the flickering light on the ceiling. But he couldn’t slow down now. Not when he hadn’t even dealt with the worst of the damage he’d caused yet.

Taking only a moment for a calming breath, Green slowly waltzed over to Blue. She held Second’s head in her lap, whispering soothing words and little pleas to awaken as she ran her hands through their long mane of hair. Though he knew Sec was alive, the sight of them shocked Green; their eyes had dark shadows under them, their limbs weak and limp. Second looked worse than Green had seen them since the day they had-

Green shook his head, ignoring another wave of nausea that rolled over him. “How are they?” He asked instead.

“Well, I can’t find any serious injuries,” Blue updated as she continued to stroke the fluffy mess of bedhead, “But they may have internal injuries? It’s hard to tell- I’m equipped to deal with minor wounds and Minecraft ailments. Not… this.”

“Wouldn’t their healing powers take care of that?” Green asked, kneeling down next to Blue to take their dear friend’s hand in his own. It was cold and clammy against Green’s skin, which made him clutch all the tighter, willing some of his warmth into it.

As if to answer, Blue pointed out a number of bruises on their body. “It hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe they’re too tired to do it? Or maybe it’s a good sign!” Blue forced herself to perk up at the thought. “Every time Second’s used their healing powers it’s because someone got seriously hurt. Maybe they’re not hurt bad enough for it to activate on its own.”

“Maybe,” Green agreed, even though that didn’t really sound right to him. Since Sec had become aware of their powers, they’d shown the greatest connection to their healing. It was one of the strongest abilities. “Still, I don’t think they’d be too comfortable sleeping on the floor. Is it safe to move them?”

“Oh! Uh,” Blue thought for a moment, her eyes scanning over Sec uneasily. Moments passed into minutes before she answered, “I- I think so. As long as we’re careful.”

Green nodded, already standing to take hold of Second’s legs. “Okay, I’ll walk backwards with their legs, you take their head.” Blue nodded, taking a firm hold of Second as she slowly stood up. Between the two of them the limp stick weighed almost nothing, and Green carefully walked backwards into the living room. He could see Yellow resting in Mango’s giant armchair, leg propped up on the coffee table with a pillow. Her eyes followed their movements like a hawk as Green and Blue, working in perfect harmony, brought their unconscious friend to Mango’s couch and slowly, gently, set them down. Second didn’t so much as stir during the transfer, which only made Green all the more worried. What he wouldn’t give to have his best friend suddenly sit up and throw a pillow at him for disturbing their rest…

For now, Green once again took hold of Second’s hand and watched their drained, pale face as they slept. He didn’t know where he’d even begin to apologize for this.

----------------------

While Purple had snuck into this room to learn more about the illusive Gold in the past, this was the first time they’d been allowed to enter Gold’s bedroom, and it made their heart beat a thousand miles per second. The Old Man stood to the side, cradling his kid as he allowed Red and Purple to maneuver the… er, other Old Man into the twin-sized bed. He was barely able to fit, but once they set him on the mattress some sense of familiarity must have kicked in, causing him to curl in on himself to fit a little more comfortably. Once he was set down, Mango waltzed over and slowly, reluctantly, put his child to rest next to the bizarro world Mango. Immediately Gold curled around his father, her arms wrapping around him in search of comfort, and even unconscious the handsome version of Mango immediately returned the embrace.

Something sour slithered in Purple’s gut at the sight, a bitterness that immediately made them disgusted with themselves. As much as they coveted the same kind of love so easily given to Gold when they were feeling off, to feel this kind of jealously towards a dead kid… well, it wasn’t like they hadn’t known they were a bad person, but still. Not cool, Purple.

They were a little lost in thought, so Mango suddenly lugging himself up to the bed’s side to stare at the two intertwined sticks startled them. Though he was looking directly at them, the Old Man seemed to not see the two, instead staring at something far, far away.

“Uh…” Red’s awkward voice reached Purple’s ear, and they turned to look at the stronger stick as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. The old man didn’t seem to hear him. “So, I’m gonna go, uh, check on the others… yeah… we’ll be in the living room if you need us… uh, sorry again about your kitchen.”

Purple watched as Red sidled towards the door, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes, as if expecting them to come at him. When nothing happened, he turned around and hastily walked back to the living room. That left Purple alone in the house’s forbidden room with an Old Man, an unconscious Old Man, and a ghost.

Swallowing past their nerves, Purple approached Mango and reached across the sudden chasm between them to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” They addressed softly. Mango didn’t so much as twitch at their touch. “Are you feeling okay?”

It took a moment for Mango to respond. “Sweetheart, I’m feeling a lot of things right now,” He droned, not taking his eyes off of the two sticks curled up on the bed, “and none of them are okay.”

Purple winced. Sweetheart only tended to come out when one of them was feeling particularly bad. Usually Purple themselves. Still, they pressed onward, “Yeah, that’s fair,” They agreed. Then, with a little hesitation, they asked, “How… how do you think Second… brought them here?”

Mango sighed, bring his hand up to hold his forehead. “I dunno. Cloning, maybe? They have art powers or something, right?” He stumbled back, and, thinking quickly, Purple pulled the chair from the nearby desk and got it to Mango just in time for the Old Man to collapse into it. Once he was seated, Mango nodded his thanks to Purple and leaned over the two bedridden sticks. “I’m not exactly in a state to think too hard about that.”

Okay, fair. Purple tried to think of something else – anything else – that they could do in order to make Mango feel better. After fumbling over their words for a moment, they eventually asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think…” Mango’s breath hitched. “I think I just some time alone, kiddo.”

Something deep inside Purple shattered at the request. Still, they nodded obediently. “Okay, I’ll go check on the others, then. We’ll… be in the living room.”

Purple knew if they turned back to look at Mango, whatever they’d see on his face would push them to tears, so instead they kept their eyes trained on the floor as they walked out the door and shut it behind them. Despite their proclamation, Purple lingered for a few moments, just long enough to hear soft sobs come from the other side of the door. Their heart ached, urging them to go back in, to let him know that it would all be okay, but that single, weak request kept Purple’s twitching fingers at their sides. With great effort they forced themselves to trail back from the bedrooms, leaving the Ochre family alone to process the events of that day.

Once back in the living room, Purple was met with another tense scene. Each member of the gang was idling around in total silence. Green was sat by Second’s side on the couch, holding their hand and petting their hair as he watched them warily. Blue also hovered over their orange friend, fretting over them as she searched for any change in their condition. Red stood in place in between the armchair and the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. Yellow was the only one who was entirely still, slouched uncomfortably in the armchair with her foot propped on the coffee table. Her eyes were trained firmly on the wall opposite the couch. The air was thick with tension and nerves.

Steeling their nerves, Purple asked, “How’s everyone doing?”

“Okay,” Green murmured, briefly looking up to meet purple’s gaze.

“I’m good!” Red assured, plastering on a huge smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Blue assured gently, tapping her fingers on Second’s arm as she checked their pulse again.

“Peachy,” Yellow spat sarcastically, glaring at the ground.

Then, after a pregnant pause, all four turned towards Second’s unresponsive form. The tension returned tenfold.

Red finally spoke up, cutting off the pressure as he smiled awkwardly at the group, “You know, if Sec were awake, they’d probably say something like, ‘At least they let me sleep in for once’.” The turn of phrase was made in a terrible impression of Second’s voice, followed by a nervous laugh that quickly petered out, “Hehe, hehe, he…”

More silence.

“They’ll be okay… right?” Blue asked softly.

“Of course they will!” Cut off Green, looking mildly insulted at even the suggestion that they wouldn’t be. “They’re Sec! They’re always okay!”

Yellow’s already haggard face wrinkled, making her look far more tired than just a few moments prior. Her eyes reflected the ghosts of memories past as she once again cast her gaze away to avoid looking at Second. “Yeah,” She agreed absently, though she sounded like her mind was somewhere far, far away. “They’re always okay…”

Immediately Purple got the sense that they were missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Like, maybe half of the pieces. And the box. And it was was one of those obnoxious white puzzles, so it was hard to put together in the first place.

Desperate to escape the pressure of the moment, Purple’s eyes scanned over the group, and soon came to rest on Yellow’s ankle. Though mildly swollen, it didn’t look broken, so Purple hazard a guess that it only needed rest and icing. They piped up, “Um, why don’t I get you some ice, Yellow?” The query broke through whatever spell Yellow was under, dragging her mind back into the present.

Before she could respond Blue let out a sharp gasp, immediately turning to Yellow and waving her hands in a placating way. “Oh my gosh, Yellow, I am so sorry! I didn’t even think about that- I was so focused on Second that I forgot- I can’t believe I-!”

“Hey, hey,” Yellow consoled, sitting up straight for the first time, “It’s alright. We all know the rules: The one who’s hurt worst gets priority treatment. And it’s just a little sprain, it’s not like it’s broken or anything.”

“But still…” Blue kept her eyes trained on Yellow’s propped up foot, swallowing audibly past a lump in her throat.

Purple winced, mind racing as they searched for a way to cut through the tension, but Red beat them to it with a cheery, upbeat proclamation: “Personally, I blame Green.”

“What?” Green snapped back, looking vaguely offended by the accusation.

“You have two working legs,” He explained in a matter-of-fact manner, “You could’ve gotten up up at any time to take care of Yellow, but nooo…”

Purple snickered openly at the look on Green’s face, which only got louder when he turned his glare at them. Yellow, snorting, chimed in, “Yeah, Green, aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“Oh, we all know there’s no ‘responsible’ one!” Green put strong finger quotes around the word responsible, causing a wave of roaring laughter to engulf the living room. And just like that, the atmosphere grew lighter.

While the others fell into their normal banter, Purple used this opportunity to slip into the remains of Mango’s kitchen. The place certainly looked like a tornado hit it, with every object damaged in some way or another. Purple stepped around cracks in the ground and puddles of water splattered around on their way through, taking note of the damage as they went. Literally all of their cutlery and tableware was in pieces. The food processor was firmly embedded into the wall, its glass cracked and its cord swinging sadly in air. Purple stepped over the dented door of the microwave, and had to glance around for a moment to find the rest of it crunched up and tossed to the side.

Convincing insurance that a super-powered stick created a twister in the middle of their kitchen would be a pain in the rear, Purple mused as they sidled over to one of the cabinet drawers that had been forced out of its place. There they found a cloth rag, which they quickly grabbed before heading towards the tipped over, broken refrigerator. If they wanted a payout good enough to rebuild their kitchen to its former glory, they’d have to come up with a good story. The damage was too extensive to be explained by a burglary turned fight, so they doubted that would pass the smell test. A bear attack, maybe? Were there even bears in this area…? Honestly, the best thing Purple could come up with was an explosion. The microwave was relatively new, and still under warranty, so with a little ingenuity Purple was certain they could alter the scene of the crime to fit that narrative. Perhaps they’d even get a bit of a payout from the company that made the microwave.

Nodding in satisfaction, Purple paused in front of the fridge. They’d have to go over the story with Mango later to smooth over any mistakes, but they were certain they could get a full remodel covered with ease. The satisfaction the thought put on their face disappeared when they opened the freezer door a bit too roughly, resulting in it falling off its hinges and dangling from Purple’s hold. Gingerly they set it to the side and dug out a few pieces of melting ice to wrap in the cloth before finally making their way out of the kitchen to return to the others.

“-and so I said, ‘That’s positively blue-tiful!’” Red recited, and Yellow groaned lightly while Green and Blue cracked up. Somehow Purple got the feeling that they were laughing more at Yellow’s misery than whatever joke Red had set up.

Purple suppressed a smile as they approached, holding up the makeshift ice bag as if to explain their absence. “Thanks,” Yellow grumbled with a pout. She winced as the ice was set on her swollen ankle. “You got anything for the headache Red’s puns are causing?”

“Come on, Red’s just trying to make you feel better.” Purple scolded playfully, “It isn’t very ice of you complain.”

They almost cracked at the complete and total betrayal that befell Yellow’s face. “Purple,” She gasped in horror, “I trusted you.” Green, Blue, and Red all howled with laughter, Red even doubling over and clutching his side.

“That was your first mistake,” Purple informed her ominously, their grave tone in contrast to the wide grin stretched across their face.

A sudden, deep voice broke through the merriment. “I see you’re all doing well,” Mango noted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Purple could tell that his eyes had a hint of redness to them, but that was the only sign that there had been anything amiss. If anything, he was… too composed, which made Purple’s gut curl in on itself. How many times had the Old Man cried in secret, hiding his pain from Purple? How often had they stumbled across Mango post-crying session and bombarded him with their pointless complaints, completely oblivious to his suffering?

Their self-deprecating musing were ground to a halt when Mango made his way across the living room to Second’s side, taking a look at them himself. “How bad is it?” He asked.

“N-not that bad… no serious wounds or anything, I think they’re just drained,” Blue filled him in. She again checked Second’s pulse.

Mango hummed aloud, “Still, I’d rather be safe than sorry. We should get them to a hospital or something.”

“A hospital?” Green questioned, suddenly looking uneasy. It quickly spread to Blue and Red.

“Um,” Yellow interrupted, “Look, the details are too… complicated to get into right now, but that would be a really bad idea. Especially if they decided to isolate Sec.”

Red and Green both went pale. Blue looked close to tearing up. The argument Mango was clearly about to get into died on his lips at the sight, but he still didn’t look quite ready to let this go. Knowing how the old man worried and figuring that it wouldn’t be the greatest idea in the world to give a vulnerable super-powered stick to the government, Purple decided to step in. They moved from Yellow’s side to place a comforting hand on Mango’s arm, redirecting his attention back to them.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” They confirmed, “Sec’s got super healing powers, so they’ll be able to patch everyone up once they’re rested up.”

Still Mango looked unconvinced. "I don’t know…”

“Trust me,” Purple pleaded, and they were pleased to see a little crack in the old man’s armour.

After a moment of hemming and hawing, he sighed, “Alright, fine, for now,” Mango agreed. The others slumped in clear relief at his resignation, “But if they’re not up by sundown, we’re taking them to the nearest doctor.”

“They will be,” Green stated with unyielding confidence.

Mango nodded, then glanced over at Yellow. “Your ankle isn’t broken?” He asked.

“Sprained,” She confirmed, “Just need to ice it and keep it elevated. I’ll be fine.”

Satisfied with that, Mango nodded affirmatively. He looked a little more at ease than he had been back in the kitchen. “That just leaves one more. Green,” Said stick flinched at being called out, “Hold still for a moment. You hit your head pretty hard back there. I want to make sure you’re not concussed.”

Purple winced. Come to think of it, they had heard a pretty hard thump after Second had exploded. Had that been Green’s head hitting the wall? There had been so much going on they’d barely taken note of it.

Nearby, Purple heard Blue whisper under her breath, “I didn’t even notice…” They didn’t respond to her, but placed a gentle, consoling hand on her shoulder.

Some simple questions were exchanged between Mango and Green, each one Green answered with ease and clarity. Finally, Mango asked Green how he felt, “I was nauseous and dizzy at first,” The musical stick explained, “But after I sat down and relaxed a little it went away. Now I just have a raging migraine.”

“Hmm,” Mango scratched his chin, “Well, try to take it easy, just to be safe. Head injuries are no joke. I’ll ask you again later, but so far you seem fine.”

Some relief returned to the room at Mango’s unofficial diagnosis. Red and Yellow tossed some concussion related jabs at Green while Blue smiled warmly down at him. Laughter returned to the living room, and it felt like their friends were finally at peace – save one glaring omission to the group.

They hoped Second would wake up soon.

--------------------

Line after line, form after form, their art came to life.

Through careful craft of masterful strokes, an animation came to be. Tiny little paws made contact with an invisible floor as a kitten was gently coaxed into existence. Nose pointed straight, tail upturned in the air. Little bits of fuzz were represented by stroke after stroke of line. The small kitten stood proud, ready to make the step forward, and The Second Coming looked down at her with pride. Then they clicked to the next frame, and began the process again. Frames of the same drawing were gradually altered, until the little kitten made her way across the ground in order to explore the brand new world she was brought into.

The Second Coming nodded at her, turned to save her existence, and came face to face with the Second Coming.

A reflection stared back at them, eyes aglow with soft emerald light. No words were exchanged – they were seldom needed when the Second Coming faced themselves. The quiet contained no tension, no fear. Only a sense of peace. Some moments passed, and then the mirror turned and walked away. The Second Coming tried to follow after them, as they were usually expected to, but a hand held up in a universal ‘stop’ motion kept them in place.

Carefully maneuvering down beneath them, The Second Coming waltzed through the timeline of the kitten’s animation without concern. Their gaze remained focused and forward until, quite suddenly, they stopped at the very first key frame of the animation. It held firm in place as they pulled at it, harder and harder, until a perfect copy was pulled free, along with a brief flash of a fresh, entirely blank timeline. Seeing the timeline empty of their creation caused a moment of panic in the Second Coming, which quickly quieted when they looked back to see the kitten sitting there, unharmed, licking her paws with perfect grace and serenity.

Quick as they’d made their way across the timeline the Second Coming returned, carrying the key frame with the same care as though it was the kitten herself. A hand gesture beckoned the Second Coming over, and the Second Coming joined themselves at the precipice of the timeline and the canvas. They looked at themselves, and their self looked down at the key frame. Gently their hand stroked the top of it, before it took hold and began to stretch it larger, and larger. The Second Coming leaned forward to get a closer look, and was rewarded with a kitten jumping into their arms.

The kitten stared up at them, mild confusion on her face. She also stared at them from across the canvas, hackles raised as she noticed her other self’s presence. In response the version of her in Second’s arms hopped down, carefully skirting around herself as kitten and kitten inspected each other.

For a while the Second Coming and the Second Coming watched as the two kittens came to terms with each other and began playing. Though they were the same kitten, they may as well have been simple litter-mates with how easily they came together. A tap on the shoulder drew the Second Coming’s attention over to their other self, who gazed at them with strong, unblinking eyes. They held up the key frame, then gestured to the kittens. The Second Coming followed their movements.

From the key frame…

To the kittens…

To the key frame…

To the kittens…

And the Second Coming understood.

--------------------

Second shot up from their resting position, crying out, “Holy heck I broke space time-!”

Just as they’d made it into a sitting position they froze. Pure, unadulterated agony spread across their entire body. Burning tears built up in their eyes, and Second desperately blinked them back even as their breath hitched. It was like every single one of their muscles were trying to pull away from their bones, burning as they struggled to break free.

“Ah…” They winced, and tried to ease back into a laying position. This only caused another flare of horrible pain from every muscle that was forced to move. “Ow, ow, ow…”

“Easy, Sec!” Blue consoled, the gentle heart being by their side in an instant. She carefully positioned her hands on their back and chest to help them back down. “Take slow, deep breaths… there you go, you’re almost there…”

Slow and steady, Second pushed past the pulses of torment to lie on their back. The worst of the pain faded, though uncomfortable aches still wracked their entire body. Following Blue’s advice, Second began to take in deep breaths, holding them for a short time before exhaling. Breathing clearly made it easier to relax their muscles, which in turn made the pain… not disappear, but lessen just a tad.

Blue was suddenly shoved to the side, and Red’s face appeared in her place. “Sec! Oh man dude, you had us so worried!” Out of the corner of their eye, Second could see Purple nod in agreement.

“Hey, give them some space!” Green scolded as he pulled Red back.

Yellow snickered, and Second tilted their head as much as the pain would allow to glance at her. She was sat in Mango’s ridiculously large armchair, her leg propped up on the coffee table before her with an ice bag on top. Looking over their friends, Second found that they were all sporting various bruises, cuts, and lumps. Even Mango, the least harmed of the sticks, had clearly irritated eyes and dark purple spots on his forearms.

They did this, Second realized. After everything, they’d hurt the people they cared about most. Again.

“Are you alright?” Mango’s voice, unusually kind, cut through the self-loathing that was starting to dominate Second’s thoughts. He towered over Blue as he gazed down at them. “I know you have healing powers, but it might be best to let a doctor look you over. I can get you to the hospital in less than ten minutes.”

“Hospital…?” Second repeated, swallowing down a fresh lump of nerves. A hospital meant doctors – scientists, men in coats, isolated in tiny space, don’t move, it’s for your own good… “N-no, I’m okay. I’ll heal myself once I’ve got a little more energy.”

“You’re sure?” Asked Mango. When Second made a small sound of affirmation, he relented, albeit a little reluctantly. “Alright, I’ll let it go for now… but I’d like to change the topic, if you don’t mind.” Mango took a spot on the couch, careful not to touch Second in any way. “What did you mean when you said you ‘broke space time’?”

There was a glint in Mango’s eyes that brought an entirely new sense of discomfort to Second, but they ignored it and did their best to explain, “It’s like I said,” Their throat was already beginning to ache from just this amount of talking, but it was easy enough for Second to ignore, “I- my powers used the picture as a sort of key frame, like in animation. You can jump between key frames to get to dynamic moments in the piece, to- to plan the pacing of-” Judging from the look on Mango’s face, Second guessed that they were getting a little off-topic and tried to steer themselves back on track, “Er, anyway, the key frame created a portal back to the moment it was created and- and basically made a ‘split’, to bring them back here.”

“A split?” Yellow asked, stroking her chin curiously. “So, does that mean they’re copies?”

Second shook their head instinctively, then winced at the resulting ache. “Not quite… it’s more like, I split the timeline? Since everyone’s memories of Purple and Mango are in tact and history clearly didn’t change, it’s likely I created an alternate worldline where those two sticks mysteriously vanished one day. You know, because I pulled them into the future.”

“Um…” Red looked completely lost, “Okay, can you explain that again, but in a way that makes sense?”

Thank goodness Yellow took point, because Second’s head was already aching, their thoughts spinning as they tried to come up with another way to put it. Instead they laid back and listened as Yellow explained, “It’s basically just alternate universes.” She stated smoothly. “Like, instead of the timeline exploding or all of our memories altering to account for Mango mysteriously being brought into the future, instead there’s another world entirely identical to this one, except that Mango and that other stick don’t exist there, because they’re here.”

“I’m still confused,” Red said.

“For now, just know that these are past versions of Mango and Gold Ochre.” Purple summarized, “But, man… that’s incredible. We knew you were strong, dude, but…”

Every pair of eyes was on Second, pinning them with a sudden pressure on their chest. More little murmurs broke out between Second’s friends, whispered words that they couldn’t quite make out, and Second forced their eyes shut. Unable to hear their friends’ conversations, Second’s traitorous brain filled in the blanks, shouting at them about how different they were, how dangerous they were. How they no longer belonged with these amazing, wonderful sticks. Second groaned and tried to drown out the chattering both in and out of their head, but it only made the voices louder.

Why did they have to be cursed like this? Why couldn’t they just go back to being normal?

“All that aside,” Green suddenly said, drawing attention back to him and away from Second. Freedom from the burden of being the center of attention muted the voices in their head, at least for now, “I think we’ve waited long enough, so I wanna know. Who the heck is Gold?”

Mango suddenly went rigid. He frowned coldly, glaring at nothing in particular, while Purple immediately moved to hover anxiously at his side. They reached to comfort him, but didn’t make contact before withdrawing and instead offering gentle reassurances. “It’s okay. I can explain if you-”

“She’s my kid,” Mango finally revealed. Everything went quiet as the news echoed in their thoughts. “He… died a few months before I met Purple.” Mango’s eyes suddenly darted up, meeting Second’s head on. “And you brought her back.”

An awkward feeling settled over Second, as though they were taking credit for something they didn’t do. “I hadn’t exactly planned that,” They reminded him, “I just wanted to fix what I broke.”

“Fix what’s broken…” Mango echoed, then huffed out a gentle laugh, “Well, you certainly fixed something. I don’t think I can ever repay this.” Some sort of weight fell off of Mango’s shoulders, and he gratefully smiled down at them. The weight of his appreciation sat heavy on their chest. It didn’t feel like they’d done anything but mess things up, and yet… they’d saved a life? The duality of their feelings clashed within Second, leaving them unable to vocalize their thoughts. Oblivious, Mango continued on, “Now it’s just a matter of… explaining this whole mess to them,” He visibly winced, “That’s gonna be ugly.”

Second, sensing the discord in his tone, immediately volunteered. “I can do it,” They proclaimed, ‘I’m the one who brought them here, so it only makes sense…”

“Appreciate the thought, kid,” Despite his words, the disapproval was clear through Mango’s tone, “but this is kind of a family matter. I wouldn’t feel right about having you do my job. Besides,” He tossed a side eye to Red, Blue, and Green, all of whom, Second noted uneasily, were watching them with very intense expressions, “I think if you try to get up off that couch, your friends are going to duct tape you to it.”

Unable to deny that, Second agreed, “Okay, fair enough,” Then they chuckled, “Heh, at least they’re letting me sleep for once.”

For some reason, Red burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Meanwhile Purple stood up, eagerly rushing to Mango’s side. “I’ll come help!” They offered.

“That’s not a good idea either,” Mango told them, and if he noticed how their entire form seemed to slump, he didn’t comment on it, “If I know myself as well as I think I do, then I know exactly how my past self will react to the news that Gold’s dead, and…” A haunted shadow fell over the old man’s eyes, “I don’t think you need to see that side of me again. In the meantime, hold down the fort here. I’m officially putting you in charge.”

“Wait, why’s Purple in charge?” Yellow complained.

Mango side-eyed the lot of them, as though they were the ones who’d almost blown up an entire video game world, “Because they’re the only ones I’m certain won’t try and get themselves killed the moment I’ve left.” Mango stood up and walked towards the bedroom hallway, paused for just a moment, and then picked something off of his bookshelf. A dusty relic, shimmering bronze in a painfully familiar circlet. A crown.

Probably Purple’s, though Mango didn’t seem to have any reservations about borrowing it. He waltzed out with only a wave backwards, which Purple echoed with drained melancholy.

Once Mango was gone, Red took his place sitting next to Second, plopping down with a raspberry. “So, what, we just wait around for them to wake up?”

Purple shrugged. “I guess-” They were cut off by a loud roar, fierce and angry like a lion, and Purple’s face started glow bright pink.

Yellow couldn’t help but poke fun at the suffering stick, “Aw, is someone a little hungy~?” She cooed.

“Agh, will you shut up?!” Snapped the mess of a stick, “I didn’t exactly get the change to eat after you guys showed up. We did make a lasagna, but…” Purple’s voice trailed off, and without further explanation they disappeared.

Oh yeah. In addition to all the other problems they’d caused, Second had ruined Purple and Mango’s dinner. It wasn’t much of an offense, in comparison to all the other events of that day, but it felt like the sour cherry on top of the melted garbage sundae.

Soon enough Purple returned, oven mitts covering their hands and a casserole dish carefully carried along with them. The look on their face was uncertain and vaguely disturbed as they presented what was supposed to be their dinner to the group. A perfectly normal, if underdone, lasagna, with the added twist that it glowed a sickly green.

“Uhh…” Second couldn’t tear their eyes off of the abomination. “Whoops.”

Red twisted away from the cursed creation, staring at it as though expecting it to attack. Green and Blue each approached to investigate themselves. Green’s nose wrinkled as he got closer. Uneasy silence covered the room as they all wondered just what Second’s power had done to the poor thing.

Then, at last, Blue shrugged and pulled a knife and fork out of nowhere. “Meh, I’ll still eat it.”

Everyone’s horrified expressions shifted from the monstrous creation to the monstrous stick. Green looked vaguely ill. “Dude,” He stared in disbelief, “That thing’s like, three different kinds of radioactive.”

“I’ve put worse things in my mouth.”

--------------------

Soft sunlight poured through the window, gently caressing Mango’s face with unseasonable warmth. His eyes fluttered open, his blurred vision gradually clearing to reveal the familiar sight of his child’s bedroom ceiling. Spending nights here wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, especially when Gold was younger and afraid of what might be hiding in the room’s darkest corners, but what bugged Mango were the holes in his memory. He and Gold had just returned from a tournament, that he recalled. They’d celebrated and begun planning dinner, and then… nothing. Just a deep-rooted sense of unease and a blinding green light assaulting his eyes.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mango’s attention was immediately drawn to the divot in the mattress right next to him, where Gold was curled up at his side. She was unharmed – which thank goodness, but why would he think she was hurt? - and slumbering as soundly as she always did, her breath escaping in sweet little whistles.

“Gold?” He grabbed her by the shoulder and gave her a rousing shake.

Like the deep log-sawer she was, Gold grumbled and groaned at his prodding. Her face pinched as she resisted the toll of the living world, grumbling and groaning at Mango’s attempts to awaken her. “Five more minuteees…” She whined, pulling her pillow around her ears in an adorable fluff sandwich.

Though he couldn’t shake the nerves wracking his entire body, Mango found himself smiling at the adorable sight. “C’mon, honey, get up,” He nudged her a few more times, and she complied with a ridiculous amount of effort, picking herself up like she had suddenly doubled in weight. She let out a cute little kitten yawn, stretching up so high he was sure she’d reach the ceiling. Turing, who gave this kid permission to get so big? Mango would have to have words with them.

Once she got her bearings, Gold looked around and immediately put on a puzzled frown, “Mm, dad?” He asked, his voice shifting in a subtle way, “When did we go to bed…?”

“Still putting that together, hun,” Mango answered. There was an itching at the back of his neck, a nagging sense of forgetting something important, but whatever it was kept escaping his grasp every time he reached for it.The oncoming migraine was already clawing at his skull.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air, forcing every thought in Mango’s head to a grinding halt. Instinct had him throwing an arm up to push Gold behind him, only barely registering the kid’s gasp, before he turned to glare firmly at this intruder. Then his glare dropped in shock as he found himself face to face with… himself.

Or, at least, a man who looked nearly identical to him. Instead of neatly tying back his hair he let it hang haphazardly off his shoulders, with bangs and curls jutting in every direction. Dark shadows lined hie sunken eyes, with little hints of redness indicating a level of exhaustion Mango hadn’t felt since Gold was an infant. Even his clothes were a wreck; ever since Gold became old enough to start doing his own laundry Mango had made a point of keeping his own clothing as neat and pressed as he could, if only to set an example. So while the wrinkled, stained clothes didn’t turn him off as much as it would other sticks, it was certainly startling to see.

“Nice to see you’re both awake,” He commented coolly, not yet addressing the blatant elephant in the room. His voice was like a recording of Mango’s own, altered mildly to add some huskiness.

“Wait, dad? But you’re… and you…?” Gold’s head spun back and forth as he looked between his father and his father’s perfect doppelganger. The poor dear seemed so lost. Finally, he pulled his head over Mango’s still extended arm to whisper a little too loudly, “Dad, do you have a secret twin you never told me about?”

Before Mango could respond, Mango- the other Mango, ah heck, that was gonna get confusing – answered in his place. “Not exactly, honey. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but…” He stepped a little closer, and smiled a tiny, broken smile, “It’s so good to see you.”

A sinking weight began to form in Mango’s gut at the sound of his voice. There was sincere, unadulterated joy there, and while Mango would never be unhappy to see his kid, there was something under the happiness that was far more desperate than he was comfortable hearing in his own voice. His eyes, though darkened by the shadows of exhaustion, were shimmering as unshed tears reflected the sunlight.

“I understand why you might be confused. I’ll explain everything in a moment, but I’d like to begin by re-introducing myself.” To that end, his other self sauntered across the floor with surprising confidence for someone who was clearly such a mess, grabbing Gold’s nearby desk chair and spinning it around to sit backwards in it, in exactly the same way he’d always scolded Gold for, and placed some cheap looking prop crown atop his messy mane. “You may call me ‘King’. At least for now, so people can tell us apart.”

Gold blinked dumbly at his father’s doppelganger for a moment, then a bright, wide grin stretched across his face, “Whoa!” He cried out, pure excitement dancing in his eyes, “You look so cool!”

“You look ridiculous,” Mango informed him matter-of-factly.

“I know,” King stated, dramatically tossing his hair back with one hand. He didn’t specify who he was agreeing with, “But to get back to the subject at hand…” For a moment this King guy hesitated, slumping and folding his hands in his lap before eventually proceeding, “There’s no real way to ease you into it, so I’m just going to come out and say it: You’re in the future. About two years in the future.”

Mango could feel his eyes widen. Gold’s fingers dug into his arm as he gasped, “The future…?”

“Indeed,” Confirmed King, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

This new knowledge had Mango looking over their surroundings with fresh eyes. Something about Gold’s room was different. Not in the sense that it had been rearranged or had needed repaired in some way, but that it felt… uncanny. It had a level of order that was very unlike Gold. There were no books left out, no school supplies haphazardly thrown around, no broken boards from Gold’s attempts to learn some new move. Everything was arranged like some sort of display room; too nicely, too neatly, contradicted only by the scent of dust lingering in the air.

King’s broken smile as he looked upon Gold came back to mind, and the knot in Mango’s gut tightened.

“Whoa, that’s- that’s crazy!” Gold pushed past Mango’s arms to crawl closer to King, totally enraptured by the infinite possibilities the future might bright. “Do you call yourself King because you rule the world? Has there been some kind of crazy apocalypse and you’re leading the survivors? Has the Internet ended!?”

Before Gold could take his hyperactive, overly imaginative questioning any further, Mango took the reigns and pulled Gold back by his collar, “Easy, Hon,” Mango scolded lightly, “Remember, it’s only been about two years. I don’t think the world would’ve ended in that time.” Much less Mango becoming some sort of monarch, but that thought was so ridiculous it didn’t need to be said. What idiot would make Mango a king?

King stood surprisingly rigidly, looking… too uncomfortable at questions he should’ve very well expected from his kid, “A lot can happen in two years.” He informed them both without any further elaboration.

“Still!” Gold pumped his arms up in excitement, his sunny smile shining so bright that even dull, downtrodden King seemed to lighten up, “You’ve gotta have so many crazy stories! Like that big fair coming up this summer,” That made King visibly flinch, raising so many more alarm bells in Mango’s head, “or-!” Gold gasped, “The next tournament! You gotta tell me how I’ll do! Do I win?! Did I screw it up?! How many people did I beat?!”

The look on King’s face was visibly pained, and the weight in Mango’s stomach became a black hole. It sucked in everything – his feelings, his attention, his damned air – as a terrible puzzle began to put itself together in his head. The dust on everything. The longing in King’s eyes. The exhaustion that encumbered every inch of his form.

No. No, I’m just imagining things. There’s no way-

A sigh, and King sunk in on himself, looking every bit like a monarch burdened with the weight of the world. “There are… some things you need to know. Don’t get up, this is going to be a long story…”

--------------------

Of all the things Purple had thought they’d be doing with tonight’s dinner, playing some odd combination of keep away and football was not what they expected.

The ball, also known as the ‘radioactive lasagna abomination’, was held high above Purple’s head as Blue stretched herself to try and steal it from them. It was all in good fun; Blue wasn’t seriously trying to fight Purple, and Green had decided it was safe enough to not risk worsening his potential concussion. Instead he sat off to the side, offering wayward advice and vague warnings to help keep the lasagna out of Blue’s clutches. Red was cheering over in vaguely the direction of the couch, more on the side of chaos than either of his friends. Meanwhile Second and Yellow, while initially entertaining themselves by watching, had quickly grown tired of the antics and were quietly talking amongst themselves about quantum… something? Purple wasn’t smart enough to be able to figure out what they were talking about from just the little snippets they could overhear. Not when they had to focus entirely on Blue.

The thing about Blue was that she was ever so slightly taller than Purple, tall enough that Purple had to lean back to keep the lasagna away from her. This inevitably lead to them losing their balance and falling flat on their face, nose inches away from the glowing casserole. Its smell smacked Purple with a repugnant odor, like the food was three weeks out of date, and they gagged involuntarily. How could Blue even want to put this disgusting thing in her mouth?

When they’d fallen Blue had landed on top of Purple, and it took almost no time for her to begin scrambling forth to get at the lasagna. Purple sharply butted her chin with their head and slipped out from under her to take hold of the dish once again. They were only up on their feet for a moment before Blue charged after them.

Panicked, Purple began frantically scanning all around the room, from table to window to houseplant, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to get rid of this radioactive time bomb before Blue could make the mistake of eating it. Finally they caught sight of the open window on top of the door, the same one Yellow had jokingly implied the group had entered through earlier, and without a moment’s hesitation they got into form and began to spin, building up momentum, all the while aware of Blue’s heavy footsteps stomping closer and closer. Just moments before Blue could grab them they tossed the lasagna like a discus, sending it flying over the door, out the window, and into Mango’s front yard.

Everyone froze. Silence fell over them all before slowly, gingerly, three sticks made their way towards the door. Green first, getting up off his chair to inspect the damage, then Purple, then Blue sheepishly trailing behind. The sun was starting to go down, but there was still plenty of summer sun warming their faces as they stepped outside. It took a moment to find the lasagna – the thing had flown roughly thirty meters once it exited the house, landing food side down in one of the neighbor’s flowering bushes.

...There was smoke coming from the hydrangeas. The entire plant withered in double speed; its leaves going black and stems drooping down. The delicate pink petals shriveled up and fell off. Soon enough those poor flowers were dead, a single wilted shrub amongst the rainbow that decorated the neighbor’s front lawn.

Silence reigned for a heavy second. Then Blue made a sound like a small ‘meep’, her hands flying up to stroke her jaw, as if verifying that it was indeed still in tact.

“...And this is why we don’t like it when you put random things you find on the ground in your mouth.” Green scolded, sounding more tired than genuinely angry. His fingers were massaging his temples in a vain attempt to stave off what was no doubt a resurgence of his earlier migraine.

Blue anxiously tapped her fingers as she murmured in acknowledgment, “Yeah, I’m gonna go try and get that pan back before someone notices… Sorry, Purple…”

With that Blue trudged out into the big stick world all on her own, tiptoe and tumbling across the lawn as though avoiding the gaze of some non-existent sentry. Nobody was present, of course – after moving in Purple began keeping meticulous track of the neighbors comings and goings, mostly for safety reasons but also for their own amusement, and knew none of the neighbors who would care would be home for several hours. Everyone else knew how to mind their own business, so Purple gave Green a casual shrug and made their way back inside.

If there had been any tension inside from the Great Lasagna Toss, it had completely dissipated by the time Purple had returned. Second and Yellow had roped Red into joining whatever conversation they were having, and though Red looked to be developing a migraine on par with Green’s, he seemed to at least be beginning to understand what they were talking about.

“So a ‘fixed timeline’ means that nothing you can do will altar the past and change the future, even if you tried to directly?” Red asked.

Yellow nodded, seemingly satisfied with how Red’s slap-dash time travel education was coming along, “Exactly. The most common reason for this is the single timeline theory. If you time travel, you will always have time traveled, and so the time travel was a canonical event from the beginning. But there are versions of this theory that say the universe will altar itself in order to course correct. Things can only go one way, and there’s no changing fate,” She hummed, stroking her chin, “That’s actually one of my primary concerns with the current situation. Maybe we can stop Gold from dying, but in doing so we may be condemning them to an even worse death later.”

Purple’s heart jolted in their chest. They jumped over to Yellow, startling the bright stick as she scrambled a little in response to their sudden closeness. “Hey, hi. Maybe don’t say that in front of the Old Man? Like, ever?” Without giving her a chance to respond, Purple continued, “I think he’s had enough mental breakdowns for one day.”

“Ngh…” Second groaned from where they were still laying on the couch. There had been some positive progress, in that they could now turn their head and make tiny movements without crying from pain, but they still couldn’t pull themselves up into a sitting position, “The more I think about this, the more I feel like I should be in there with him. I mean, I’m the one who brought them here, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” Yellow agreed, though her eyebrow was quirked up at the sickly stick.

Second continued to ramble to all the sticks presence, barely paying mind to Green when he joined them, having apparently gotten bored of watching Blue stealth across the front lawn, “He doesn’t even know about string theory, or multiple worldlines, or- or the risks of tearing a hole in space-time? Like, what if there’s some sort of backlash from using that much energy at once?” Second’s face grew more and more tense as their rambles continued, “Or what if there’s actually still a microscopic black-hole in the kitchen, and it could tear open and swallow everything at any time?! Or-or-” Seconds eyes seemed to lose focus as they gazed up at nothingness. Their voice got hoarser, their breathing harder, their speaking faster, “W-what if we were wrong about the multiple timelines thing, and the paradox of having past versions of two people here is slowly tearing the universe apart, bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but the cold, endless void-?!”

“Whoa there, buddy, reel it back a little bit,” Red was the first to break free of the stunned stupor Second’s stream of madness caused, but once he did he moved to Second’s side to place his hands on their shoulders. Judging by how Second didn’t so much as twitch at the contact, his touch must have been unusually gentle, “You’re doing the thing again.”

Second’s eyes were bulging out of their face, but in a strange way their confusion seemed to ground them, forcing Second to focus on Red, “W-what thing?”

“You know, the thing,” Red leaned over Second to make sure they could see him as he continued, “That spiraling thing you do, where your train of thought hits, like, this tiny little pebble of random danger and goes flying off the rails into this insane paranoia tornado, until it goes crashing back down into the central station of common sense,” A grin fit for a clown spread wide across Red’s face as he described this phenomenon, “You know, that thing?”

Whatever the intention of Red’s comment, it at least got Second to calm down, even if it was only by making them more annoyed than worried, “I do not do that,” They insisted.

Green’s snickering laugh only increased the level of petty pout that Second was putting on, “You totally do, dude!”

“Majority rules,” Yellow added, smugly pushing her glasses up her nose.

In desperation, Second tilted their head towards Purple, “I don’t do that, right Purple?”

“I may not be a quantum physicist like you and Yellow,” The violet stick crossed their arms and leaned back, “but I am not stupid enough to get in the middle of this.”

Howling laughter erupted from the other three sticks, and Second sighed melodramatically, head slumping back on the couch, “I hate you all,” They declared in a weary sigh.

“Aw,” Red cooed, moving his hands to cautiously squish second’s face, “Is da wittle cwybaby feewing gwumpy?”

Second’s face lit up in a bright green blush, “What did I do to deserve this?”

Purple felt lighter as they laughed along with everyone. They hadn’t realized just how rigidly they’d been holding themselves until all that tension was forced out of them by a little dose of joy. That was the nice things about these guys; no matter how bad the circumstances, no matter what horrors life put them through, they always managed to come out the other side whole and together. What was it that got them through the tough times? Was it one anchor that held them together, like Second’s protective attachment, or Green’s compassion? Was it all of their good traits coming together, making something greater than the sum of their parts? Or maybe they just loved each other that much, that they could manifest happy endings for themselves by believing hard enough?

Envy scratched at Purple’s insides, just the same as it did every time they saw the colourful group together, but its insistent scratching got softer and quieter every time they got together. Though their earlier thoughts about Gold proved Purple was still a terrible person, they felt like being around the others was slowly, surely, making them better. At least, they really hoped so.

The merriment of the moment was interrupted by a loud, angry, “You son of a bitch!”, followed by a thump that seemed to shake the house.

Second was first to react, immediately trying to sit up, but Red vetoed that idea by pushing down on their shoulders roughly enough that Second winced. “Stay down, ya masochist!” He scolded, “We got this! Come on, guys!”

The prompting shook Purple out of their momentary shock to follow Red out of the room, heart racing. Heavy footsteps behind them indicated that Green was following as well, racing along in tandem through the side hallway where the bedrooms were. They filed past Mango’s Purple’s door to reach Gold’s, and Red yanked it open to exactly the sight Purple had been afraid of. The younger Mango had knocked down the older one, pinning him with his weight and attempting to punch his lights out. Old Man Mango was barely blocking his blows with his already bruised forearms, wincing visibly with every hit. Purple’s crown, once proudly displayed in the living room along with one of Gold’s trophies, had been knocked to the ground in the middle of the chaos.

Purple’s breath hitched.

“D-dad, please-!” Gold was crying, visible tears running down his face. Her entire body was shaking, “Please, c-calm down!”

“How could you?!” Younger Mango seemed deaf to everything, even his own child, at that moment, “How could you let this happen?!”

All Old Man Mango did in response was grunt as he was hit again.

Nobody was moving forward to stop this mess; Red and Green were utterly petrified, and Gold was clearly not in any state to do anything. So without further thought Purple leapt into action, barreling into the forbidden space and grabbing onto the younger Mango’s arm. The sudden touch had him turning his tearful, angry glare at Purple. Ice spread through Purple’s veins as their eyes made contact, freezing them in place for the entire half-second it took for Mango’s fist to connect with their face.

Pain exploded across their cheek and traveled through their entire head, and for a moment Purple felt so much younger, so much smaller. A tall stick, the same colour as the sunset the night sky towered above them, looking down at his their child with wild, frightened eyes. You need to get up, Purple! Their voice echoed through Purple’s ears, ringing heavily with each throb of pain, You need to fight, Purple! I can’t protect you forever, Purple-!

“Purple!”

Jolting back into reality, Purple blinked away their blurred vision and found warm orange replacing cold navy. The Old Man Mango had finally stopped letting himself be used as a punching bag and was hovering anxiously over them, hands reaching out but seemingly unable to bridge the gap between them. Beyond the clear horror, Mango wore guilt plain on his face, looking close to tears yet again. Over… Purple? Or scaring Gold, maybe?

Whatever it was, the hysteria of his current mood remained in the old man’s voice when he called out again, “Purple! Are you alright?!”

The throbbing pain lingering in their jaw, but at that moment all Purple wanted was for the Old Man to stop looking at them like they were some kicked puppy. The way his eyes bore into them, with lingering tears and intense focus, was making their heart clench painfully tight and their chest fill with a strange warmth. So Purple playfully smacked away his stalling hands and smiled their biggest, brightest smile, “Pfft, I’m fine. I’ve taken hits twice that hard when I was half this size.”

Mango retreated a little at Purple’s words, no longer bordering on the edge of hysteria but still looking very uncomfortable, “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but that’s actually doing the opposite.”

Not even bothering to hide their rolling eyes, Purple quickly surveyed the room again. Poor Gold was the first thing they noticed; their eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as they covered their gaping mouth, horrified at what their father had just done. On the opposite side of the room, Green was being held back by Red. He glared daggers at the younger Old Man, who in turn was staring at Purple themselves with shock and… something else, something dark, that made Purple’s insides squirm in familiar fear.

Why? What did they do besides get punched out?

Some sort of accord seemed to have been reached between Red and Green, the two briefly nodding at each other in the corner of Purple’s vision before separating. Red lazily jogged along the outer edges of the room while Green approached the younger Mango and grabbed his arm roughly, “Well, since you two are clearly going to behave like children,” Green scolded as he dragged Young Mango over to Old Mango, only to do the same to him, “Then we’re going to have to treat you like children. Red!”

A sharp squeaking noise flooded the room, signaling that Red had yanked opened the closet door, and without further notice Green pushed both adults inside. Red slammed the closet door closed immediately once the two were inside, and Purple was joining in on their mutiny before their brain could fully comprehend what was happening, grabbing the knocked over chair from Gold’s desk and using it to prop the door shut. With the chair wedged firmly in place, the thumps from within the sealed room had no hope of breaking free.

“Hey!” One of the two old men called out from within, beating on the door with such force Purple could swear they could see it shaking, “Let us out of here, you damned brats!” The pounding of their fists against it matched the pounding of Purple’s heart as they realized Holy Heck they just locked their guardian in the closet-!

Red leaned against the door with a smug aura. From the safety of the outside he taunted, “Nope~! Naughty adults have to be punished in the time out zone~!”

“Listen, you little-!”

“Don’t bother,” A more tired version of the same voice reasoned with the angry one, “They won’t listen to you anyways.”

Maybe it was how calm the Mango he’d always known sounded in the midst of all this chaos, or maybe the shock of the situation was finally starting to wear off, but Purple suddenly found themselves grinning at this ridiculous situation, “C’mon, Old Man,” They teased, hearing a bristling repetition of the nickname from who they were sure was the younger of the two, “You know you can’t really come out of the closet until you truly accept yourself.”

Who the heavy sigh that followed came from didn’t even need clarification, nor did the mumbling of, “Purple, I swear to Turing-”

As Green and Red went over the security on the door to be sure the two fighting adults couldn’t just bust their way out, Purple found themselves turning back to Gold, who had been watching the entire circus play out with utter shock. Purple had guessed from pictures that they and Gold were around the same height, but the way he curled in on himself made them look so much smaller, so much more fragile. It wasn’t easy seeing a parent lose themselves to their own madness, Purple sympathized. Especially when learning about your own death was the catalyst.

So Purple approached and, making sure not to startle her by speaking too loudly, asked, “Hey, how are you doing?”

Gold jumped a little at suddenly being addressed, anxiously twiddling his fingers as he answered, “Uh, fine, I’m fine, I’m… sorry, I should’ve done something to stop them, or help, but-”

“I think we can excuse you for being a little… out of it today,” Consoled Purple. They felt like they should do comfort them – rub the kid’s shoulder, hug her, something – but the full weight of the situation kept them standing awkwardly still. Eventually, Purple managed to break the silence, “I’m Purple, by the way. I usually go by they/them.”

They held out their hand, and after a moment of silent staring Gold took it, “Uh, Gold. I’m- I’m a guy, at least for now. That’ll probably change, but I’ll let you know when it does.” Despite his clear discomfort, Gold forced a familiar smile onto his face. The family resemblance between father and son was so strong it would’ve been impossible not to see the Old Man in Gold.

“Thanks!” Red chimed in, sliding up to them from the side, “I’m Red, and that’s Green. We’re guys too! Mostly!”

Green rolled his eyes as he sauntered up behind Red. “Chill out, dude. C’mon, we should leave Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dork to their suffering and introduce Gold to the others.”

“Others? There are more of you guys?” Gold asked, too stunned to protest as Red and Green practically pushed him out of the room, “D-did my dad start an orphanage or something after I died?”

Purple couldn’t hold back their snorting laughter, “Nah, I’m the only one who lives here. Everyone else is just freeloading until further notice.”

---------------------

SO. Today hadn’t been going exactly like Gold planned.

He thought he’d be winning the tournament today, taking home a trophy just as golden and shiny as his colouring, but managed to flub it up at the last moment. Then, before Gold could even start to lick his wounds, he and his father were thrust years – literal years – into the future, where Gold was dead and his dad looked halfway to it. They’d gotten as far as the incident at the fair before his other father completely lost his marbles and began trying to beat himself to death, only for some poor other kid to suffer the consequences.

Now he was standing awkwardly in his own living room, so familiar yet so different, where a rainbow of strangers were hanging around with a variety of injuries.

“Blue’s not back?” Green asked as they all entered and wait, this wasn’t all of them???

One of them, a yellow stick with glasses, shook their head, “Probably still stealthing her way back. I’m sure she’ll-”

The front door exploded open with enough force that Gold was certain the old bat next door heard (if she was still alive after two years, dear programmers it’d been two years-), and a bright blue stick with a cheeky grin and one of dad’s new two year old casserole dishes held over her head triumphantly. “Behold! I have retrieved the evidence!” She looked around the room, stopped her gaze at Gold, and blinked owlishly for a long moment, “Uh, I feel like I missed something.”

Green openly snorted, “A few things.” He agreed, waltzing past Gold without concern to plop down next to the messed of a stick laying on the couch. Without even looking he took this stick’s hand and continued conversing with the blue stick, poking some eating related jab at them. Looking past them, Gold did a double take as he finally caught sight of the kitchen and holy heck what happened to the kitchen?!

A violet hand on his shoulder made Gold jump momentarily, glancing back to see Purple smiling kindly despite the fresh bruise on their face. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Purple; they’d been so nice, even after Gold’s dad straight up punched them in the face. A part of Gold felt like they were taking advantage of Purple’s hospitality after what dad had done, but an even bigger part was grateful for something – anything – to cling on to in the middle of this insanity.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout the mess,” Purple gestured vaguely to the ruined room, shrugging, “As it turns out, time travel has some wicked side effects. Including literally exploding.”

The stick on the couch, who Gold had assumed was asleep (or maybe in a coma), mumbled an exhausted, “Sorry…” before rolling a little to better face the others.

“Ah, right, let me introduce everyone!” Purple leapt out from behind Gold to take center stage. It was obvious to Gold how they reveled in the spotlight, every gesture made being grand and graceful, “Firstly, presenting the perilous potion pilferer, the gluttonous god of the grill, the mighty Miss Blue!” The blue stick had seated herself on the arm part of Dad’s armchair, snickering at Purple’s introduction, “Sitting next to her, measuring up at a whopping 1500 grams of brains and 50 grams of muscles-”

“Hey,” The Yellow stick warned, not bothering to wipe the amused smile from their face. Gold brought a hand up to his mouth to help hold in his giggling.

“-Her sassiness, the Unyielding Miss Yellow!” Purple spun around the armchair to stand between it and the couch, “Now, you’ve already been introduced to the Wrathful Red,” Purple presented Red who, despite his title, was grinning like he’d just won the lottery as he posed, “And Green the Guileless!” Green rolled his eyes playfully, “But be prepared, for our last friend is certainly not our least. They are the world’s deadliest mom friend, a hot-headed herald of hibernation…” Purple presented the stick on the couch with jazz hands, “The Second Coming~!”

The others let out a round of whoops and hollers that didn’t seem particularly appreciated by this Second Coming character, who waved everyone off with a grumpy frown. “You can just call me Second,” They informed Gold in a mumble. While they weren’t as visibly injured as everyone around them, they made up for that by looking deathly ill. Their eyes were practically swallowed by dark circles, and their exposed flesh was clammy and pale.

Dropping the act, Purple seemed a little more serious as they informed him, “Second’s the one who brought you here with their super powers. It kinda drained them.”

Gold’s mouth was open before he could even fully take in the information, “Oh, so that’s why they look like a drowned cat.”

Immediately his eyes bulged out of their sockets, and howling laughter flooded the air from the other sticks. Why did he say that?! What in the Outernet made him say that to the stick who SAVED HIS LIFE?!?!

Second looked like they were suppressing a grimace, “Gee, thanks.”

Waving his hands frantically, Gold immediately tried to eat his words, swallow them, anything to take them back and redo his introduction, “I am SO sorry! I-I don’t even know why I said that, that was SO stupid-!”

“Hey, hey,” Second awkwardly consoled, slowly lifting themselves up into a sitting position. Everyone who could stand immediately stood at attention, watching their change of position with hyper-vigilance, “It’s okay, let’s just… start over,” They lifted their arm with shaking effort, managing a grin for Gold, “Hi, I’m Second.”

Feeling a little relief wash over him, Gold reached over and carefully took his hand, giving it a light shake, “I’m Gold. It’s nice to meet you.”

Second’s eyes remained trained on Gold’s face the entire time, watching him as if looking for something, and Gold’s muscles locked up as he struggled not to look away. It felt like those emerald eyes were trying to pierce through his very soul. After a moment, a wide smile spread across Second’s face, “What’s wrong? You look like a cat that’s about to be drowned.”

Everyone laughed even longer and louder than before as Gold’s jaw dropped. Once his brain caught up with the present, Gold found himself joining in on the merriment, “Okay, okay, that’s fair.” He agreed. Green’s arm slung around his shoulder, and Gold found himself feeling surprisingly warm. Despite how crazy his life was right now, even with his dad locked in the closet for actual assault, Gold found himself feeling genuinely relaxed. He felt like… things would be okay.

A pained stomach grumbling out interrupted Gold’s thoughts, and everyone turned to Purple with various levels of amusement. “Geez, you still haven’t shut that thing up?” Green teased, his arm still around Gold’s shoulders.

“With what?!” Purple asked, “In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen’s still wrecked!”

Gold perked up a little. All this time he had been allowing himself to be drawn along by the chaos, going along with everyone else and allowing himself to be comforted by the generosity. But this was Gold’s house too, and a little nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that Gold had the power to give back, at least a little, for everything they’d done for him. Like giving him comfort and taking his mind off things and saving his damn life.

“Ooh! I can handle that!” Gold informed the others triumphantly, before pulling away to sprint towards the living room’s bookshelf. Once it had been neatly arranged; there had been a separate shelf for dad’s manuals, dad’s novels, Gold’s novels, and Gold’s comic books, but now books of various genres and owners were mixed up. There were also books about flower meanings and game guides mixed in, as well as novels from medieval fantasies that Gold assumed were Purple’s, on account of this being a genre neither Gold nor his father were into. But pressed against the very same spot as it was two years ago was One Hundred and One Ways To Pick Up Sticks. Dad had told Gold it had been a tasteless gift after a bad breakup, but it did have its uses. Like, for example, being ridiculously large and thick for the type of book it was.

Gold opened the hollowed out book and took a wad of the large amount of cash – not as much as two years ago, he noted, but still plenty – before turning around to wave the fistful of bills for the others to see. Yellow’s eyes lit up as she squealed, and everyone else seemed to freeze in place at the sight of real money.

Purple’s mouth fell open in shock, “Wait, he had a secret stash this whole time?!” They scowled, “That cheap Old Man…”

“Nice!” Blue recovered first, grinning wickedly. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lip. On the opposite side of Yellow, Green and Red exchanged a high-five, grinning wickedly.

Only Second seemed to hold some reluctance, “Uh, is it really okay for us to use that?”

“Geez, you really are the mom friend,” Purple rolled their eyes, plopping down on the couch near Second’s feet.

Still, the worried look on their face was making Gold’s stomach squirm, so he held up a finger and declared, “Well, why don’t we ask him?” Turning towards where his bedroom was in the house, Gold raised his voice and shouted, “Hey, Dad! We’re gonna use some of the emergency fund to order out! If that’s not okay, say something!” Gold held a hand up his ear to amplify his hearing, and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

After a few more seconds of nothingness, Gold shrugged, “Guess it’s okay.”

Second weakly smiled in response, “Heh, alright then.” Their eyes fluttered a little, trying and failing to resist the siren song of slumber.

“Pizza cool with everyone?” Purple asked, already pulling out a cellular device. It was sleek and dark, with a protective jacket covered in adorable stickers. After receiving a round of affirmations, they nodded and began dialing.

“Oh, make sure no meat for me!” Red suddenly piped up.

Blue nodded thoughtfully, “I’ve never gone full vegetarian with a pizza. That actually sounds pretty good!” She licked her lips, no doubt imagining the taste of red sauce and vegetables on her tongue.

“I’m good with whatever,” Green piped up, “But make sure to get something simple for Sec. They tend to like the more traditional pizzas, and they’re already not feeling well, so…” His hand found its way to Second’s head, gently petting through the long orange tangle of hair, and Second subconsciously pushed back into his touch.

Purple nodded along to their requests, taking clear note, “Okay, so we’ll get three pizzas. One classic pepperoni, one veggie…” Gold perked up, and quickly leapt to interrupt Purple and get his own favourite pizza added on.

“Oh! Oh! Could the last one be Hawaiian?”

“-And the last will be Hawaiian, obviously.”

The two sentences, spoken in perfect harmony, echoed through the living room as Purple and Gold’s eyes met. Silence lingered in the air between them; It held no awkwardness or tension, only a strange sense of warmth and understanding. Somewhere deep inside of him, Gold could feel the spark of a new bond ignite.

Purple smiled, sauntered over to Gold’s side, and tossed an arm over his shoulder, “Goldie,” The violet stick smiled as they cheerfully proclaimed, “I think you and I are gonna get along juuust fine.”

---------------------

Thump.

“Arg… come on!”

Thump.

“Why won’t this stupid thing-”

Thump.

“Open?!”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Behind Mango, the so-called King sighed from the spot on the ground where he’d made himself comfortable, “Give it a rest. Those kid’s aren’t going to make it so easy for us to get out of here.”

Spinning around on his heels, Mango glared furiously at this pathetic future version of himself. How could he just sit there, all poised and collected like their his child wasn’t out there, alone, grappling with the knowledge of his incoming death and stuck with a bunch of strangers. If anything he seemed… detached, staring at the wall in front of him without an ounce of concern for what was going on. The expression on his face was completely and utterly devoid of emotion.

His blood began to boil.

“Maybe it’d be a little easier,” Mango sneered out under his breath, “if you did anything other than just sit there, you useless piece of-”

King cut him off, “Oh, shut up. You’re giving me a migraine.” As if to emphasize this point, King began digging his fingers into the temples of his skull, “Take it from someone who’s been there: You don’t want to fly off the handle at any little thing. Trust me, you’ll end up regretting it.”

Spinning on his heels, Mango leveled a glare at King. “This isn’t any little thing!” His fists twitched at his side, begging Mango to let them fly forth, to punish, to hurt. He held off for now, “This is my baby! My Gold! Dying! How could you not be furious?!” Just the thought of Gold’s suffering constricted Mango’s lungs in his chest, making each inhale of air a fight, “How could you just let this go?! He’s the only good thing in this cursors damned world, and he’s gone!” Turmoil churned in Mango’s gut, making him vaguely nauseous. He pushed through the pain, spitting it all back out at King, “He was pulled into some game attraction, glitched out of existence, and you just sat back and watched! YOU LET HIM DIE!”

He could see it now. Gold, pushing back against the pull of that accursed game, desperately reaching out to him, Dad! Dad, help me! I’m scared! Before his body would be overwhelmed by the errors, horror and pain spreading across his face as he was eaten alive-

Struggling to speak against his own heaving lungs, Mango’s volume lowered as he growled, “I don’t care what you say, I am not you. I would never sit back and do nothing while my child was murdered.”

Throughout the tirade, King didn’t once speak up. Didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his gaze level and even on the wall opposite of him. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t already told myself,” He responded coolly, far too coolly, once Mango was done. His vacant, uncaring eyes wouldn’t meet Mango’s, which boiled his blood hotter, “But I’ve been where you are. I know exactly how you’re feeling, and I know that giving into that anger will just make things so much worse. If you don’t cool off, you’ll end up doing something you regret.”

“Regret more than letting my kid die?” The idea was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so painfully stupid.

Finally King got off his lazy butt, standing and at last meeting Mango’s eyes. They were as cold and empty as King himself. “Earlier, when that kid tried to stop us from fighting, you swung your fists without even looking,” The phantom pressure of that child’s face danced across Mango’s knuckles, causing him to flex his fingers on impulse. He supposed the kid had been innocent in all this, but it was hard to feel bad when he’d caught the look on his future self’s face; how could he have so much concern for this random bystander when his dead baby was right there? Oblivious, King continued, “Did it ever occur to you that it could have easily been Gold who’d tried to stop us instead?”

Now that made Mango’s blood run cold, because he was certain his future self was right. If those kids hadn’t run in to interfere, Gold would’ve tried to stop him as soon as the shock wore off. That was the kind of kid Gold was; sweet and selfless. And then he would’ve punched his own child.

Pushing that thought of his head, Mango immediately redirected, “Are you sure it’s Gold you’re worried about? Because you seemed awfully concerned about that other kid… Purple, was it?” King’s brow furrowed in irritation, and Mango felt a small bit of pleasure in finally getting a reaction out of him, even if it confirmed his worst suspicions, “Who are they, anyways?”

“They’re…” King tripped over his tongue, looking away from Mango as he no doubt realized what Mango had, “It’s complicated…”

“Doesn’t seem too complicated to me,” Mango stepped into the other’s space, backing him into the wall. For a so-called King, he didn’t seem to have any of the qualities of a king: the decisiveness, the bravery, the poise. He was just a cowardly old man, with fear in his heart and sweat on his brow. “It seems like you just picked up some random kid off the street to fill the hole in your life,” King seemed to bristle at that, which only spurred Mango on, “You disgusting, pathetic bastard. What kind of father are you, to just forget your child and replace them with-”

That was as far as Mango got before he was thrust against the opposite wall, a bruised arm threatening to crush his windpipe. The King’s eyes had gone wide and wild, like a feral dog’s, and Mango reveled the fury, “Purple is NOT a replacement for Gold,” He growled, voice low and dangerous, “No one could EVER replace Gold.”

Despite the pressure on his throat, Mango gave the other his biggest, smuggest grin, “What was it you said about giving into anger?”

The single sentence caused King to remember himself, and he quickly retreated, leaving a vacuum of tension between them. He sighed, and attempted to wipe the anger from his eyes, and didn’t quite succeed, “I know how you feel because I’ve been there,” King grumbled, “Do not presume to know how I feel in return. Purple is not Gold. They will never be Gold, and I don’t expect them to be Gold. I was going to tell the full story before you lost your shit, but to make it short, after Gold died, I… hurt people. A lot of people,” As he spoke, King’s eyes lost focus, staring at the wall in front of him without seeing anything, “I was going to kill them. I was going to kill myself. And I failed because of Purple. They saved me. I owe them my life- No. My life isn’t valuable enough. I owe them so much more than that.”

A ghost of a smile formed on King’s face. Mango’s stomach turned. How could this… sick monster smile while his baby was dead?

“I’ve already been angry about Gold’s death,” Continued King. He sounded less angry with every sentence, which began eating away at Mango’s limited patience yet again, “I know what that feels like, what it does to me. But this isn’t a time to be angry. Thanks to this… miracle, I have a chance to change fate. I’m elated,” King’s hand reached up to brush his too long hair out of his face, smiling softly, “I can save my child.”

“My child,” Mango interrupted insistently. Owlish blinking was what he got in response, and he sharpened his glare as he elaborated, “Your child, if you’ll remember, is dead. Gold is my kid, and I’m not going to become you. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

King pressed his lips together thinly and stared at Mango, but did not protest. “Fine. Whatever,” He brushed off, “That’s not what’s important. The only thing that matters right now is Gold,” For once, the King was speaking sense, “I won’t try to make you like me, or pretend that’s even possible. But for Gold’s sake…” An empty hand reached out, an olive branch of peace, “We’ll need to work together.”

There was no need to elaborate further. This King was his and Gold’s only connection in this world. It was still unclear if there was a way for the two to return to the past. They’d need a safe place to say, and while this had once been Mango’s home, it now belonged to King. Two years was not a terribly long time, but it was more than enough to rock their worlds upside down. They’d need to rebuild everything from scratch, and as much as he loathed this carefree version of himself, this King who as good as murdered his own child when he turned his back on Gold, they needed the safety and security he could provide. Furious as Mango was, he at least maintained enough pragmatism to see that.

So Mango stared the Usurper of his home in the eyes, and took the offered hand, “Fine. For now. But the second I’m on my feet, I’m taking MY kid and we’re leaving.”

“As long as Gold’s safe and happy,” The King smiled a weary smile as he shook his hand, “That’s all that matters.”

Once the truce was firmly established, Mango pulled his hand from King’s grip and wiped it on his shirt. King took this opportunity to gently shove his way in front of Mango to inspect the sealed door. He first tried the knob, then knelled down and began banging at the door in random spots. “If you’re trying to break through, you’re going to need more force than that,” Mango advised, folding his arms, “I figured if we both hit it in tandem-”

“We’ll break down the door,” King put a single finger up, shushing Mango like a child, and then he beckoned with his hand to his seething younger self, “but before we resort to destruction of property, hand me one of those hangers, will you? I want to try something.”

Automatically, Mango reached up and took hold of one of the wire hangers. Letting this bastard boss him around was far from Mango’s idea of a good time, but at this point he just wanted out of the stupid closet.

King spun the wire hanger and began to methodically deconstruct it. Even the weakest of sticks were more than strong enough to bend the metal without use of any special equipment, so it was only a matter of seconds before King had untwisted the hanger out of shape. He then carefully bent the top into a hook-shape and slipped it through the crack on the side of the door. Mango leaned against the wall and simply watched. He was more than capable of putting together the plan, but wondered if it would really work, or how long it would take for Mango to take hold of the chair. If the wire metal would even have enough hold to pull the chair down with breaking or bending out of shape.

It did, in the end, but it took long enough that Mango had begun to nod off while leaning against the wall. The crash of the chair meeting the floor had been what startled him back into the world of the waking. Once his eyes were open, Mango’s eyes met King’s, and it was only then that he’d realized that his response had been to jump at the sound. There was an unpleasant crinkle of amusement around the foolish King’s eyes as he stepped out, took back his crown, and mockingly bowed.

Smug bastard.

---------------------

Madame Marrone’s Pizzeria wasn’t the best pizzeria Purple had ever eaten at. Heck, it wasn’t even the best one in delivery range, but it was fast and cheap and good for what it was, so it was Madame Marrone’s chocolate brown visage on their pizza boxes when they’d finally arrived. Everyone was eager to dig in, and despite the initial scramble for the best, hottest slices, everyone worked in tandem to best serve each other. Green poured soft drinks with showmanship and flair, and Blue took care of Yellow and Second, so that they could get their fair share despite not being able to stand.

The Hawaiian pizza, which everyone else had stupidly left untouched, was shared equally between Gold and Purple. The Old Man had stared a hole through Purple’s head the first time they’d ordered pineapple pizza, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. And now that they knew the reason, Purple could barely contain their laughter. Who’d have known that the crotchety Old Man would have such an amazing kid?

Because he did. Have an amazing kid, that is.

Over pizza, it became obvious to Purple why Gold’s loss had hurt the Old Man so deeply. It wasn’t just that Gold was his kid – it was because Gold was a one in a million child, especially kind and especially sweet. They had only known the gang for a few minutes, but they already fit in far faster than Purple had. It was like they’d always been one of them, joining in the jokes and ribbing as if it was second nature. Watching them interact made Purple feel cold and lonely.

They were a bad person.

Gold told them all what the Old Man had shared, and it had quickly become apparent that they’d only gotten partway through the tale before the Old Man who would be known as Mango assaulted the Old Man who would be known as King. The fact that Gold had no idea who any of them had been should have been Purple’s first clue, but in their defense they’d had more important things to focus on at the time. They’d only managed to get to the point of Gold’s demise before the chaos had broken out.

Red had winced, hearing the details of Gold’s passing. “I’m sorry, man,” He sympathized, “Minecraft glitches are rough.” Though the Booth Thirty incident and the ‘Herobrine’ incident were two very different circumstances, it was likely the closest any of them could ever come to understanding what Gold went through.

“It’s not like I actually experienced that,” Gold shrugged off the show of empathy. They’d all rearranged themselves after the pizza had arrived, and Gold had taken over the arm of the Old Man’s armchair, right next to Yellow. “But it’s so weird to think about. I mean, I knew death was a thing, obviously, but I’ve never even lost someone before. I’ve never thought seriously about what happens after death. Have you guys?”

Nobody seemed to be in a rush to answer that question, only exchanging nervous looks amongst themselves. Yellow stared directly at Second, while Blue and Red leaned in closer to them and Green took their hand. The group had all had their near death experiences in the past, but this didn’t feel like that. It felt like earlier, when the idea of taking Second to a hospital was brought up. Like they were keeping something from them.

Ignoring the tightening knot in their chest, Purple spoke up to finally respond to Gold. “I have,” They confessed. It was hard to avoid that topic, when your last remaining family was slowly fading away in front of your eyes, “They say when data’s deleted from a hard drive, it’s never really completely gone. That some trace of it always remains. I don’t know if that’s true, but I want to believe it is.”

Because it meant, in some way, that Purple’s mother had remained with them after her death. That Purple hadn’t been entirely alone. It was a cold comfort in the darkest of nights, when Purple had no company but the chilling moonlight, but a comfort nonetheless.

“I… hope that’s true, too,” Gold agreed.

It occurred to Purple that they could tell the rest of the story right then and there. The details they’d been missing from the Booth Thirty Incident had been covered by Gold’s retelling of the event, and everything else they’d been present for. But the look on the Old Man’s face when he left to finally speak with Gold, that utterance of ‘This is a family matter’, muted their voice. It wouldn’t be right for Purple to tell Gold what they’d done. That was- that was King’s job. From family to family, no room for anyone else.

...Purple was a really bad person.

“Well, personally, I don’t,” Yellow declared, “I can barely handle one Green. The army that would arise from his many, many foolish Minecraft deaths? No thank you.”

Green scoffed at Yellow’s complaints, “You’re just jealous. You couldn’t possibly compete with an army that awesome.”

“H-hey…” Second’s mumbling broke through their ribbing, “Can we maybe change the subject? I’m not really up for talking about this right now…”

A round of worried looks passed around the room. While Purple lacked context for many of the group’s misadventures, they knew Second well enough to know that the fact that they were asking so pleasantly was more of a red flag than anything else they could’ve done. The group instead decided to tell Gold a story from their shared history. It seemed subconsciously unanimous that they not share the memory of their first meeting, what with Purple leaving Blue and Green to drop down a pit and then getting their first home in years burnt down. That could come later, when there was a little less tension to go around.

So instead they told some tales from League of Legends, a place renowned for its lack of sportsmanship but where, ironically, Purple and their friends had some of their most pleasant memories. Purple themselves took the limelight, being the experienced storyteller that they were, and weaved a tale of swords and sorcery to enrapture the bright golden stick. Green hopped up and joined as co-host, abandoning his second slice of pepperoni at his spot, while the others chimed in at timely moments. Red interrupted with humorously over-embellished assertions. Yellow added a dash of sarcasm to every mistake any of them made. Blue would defuse the little tension that popped up with expert ease. Even Second, as exhausted as they were, acted as the straight man for their comedic shenanigans. Between the six of them, it was all too easy to make Gold bust a gut.

This was the state the two Old Men found them in, when they finally escaped their imprisonment. The one who Gold told them would keep the name Mango was first, crossing the room in long, quick strides before anyone could even register that he was there. The second he was able to he took Gold in his arms, peppering his face and curls with sweet, soft little kisses. Gold giggled and laughed and proclaimed his embarrassment, but Mango didn’t relent, only holding on all the tighter.

…Purple was a really, really bad person.

The Old Man who would be King emerged afterwards, staring at the embrace between father and child with a wistful wanting that made Purple’s stomach turn. It was so obvious how much he yearned to be his other self, to be able to hold his real kid tight and never let them go. Then, in the blink of an eye, the mask of a calm, collected king slid onto his face. He adjusted his crown, pushed back his bangs, and began marching straight towards Purple.

“’Bout time you broke out,” Purple said in lieu of a proper greeting.

The backhanded remark was barely acknowledged. Instead Old Man King tenderly took Purple’s face into his grip and inspected the still sore side where the punch had landed. A strange tingling sensation drew Purple’s gaze over the old man’s shoulder to the other old man, glaring daggers at them from over Gold’s fuzzy curls, and they couldn’t help the flinch in response.

Whether or not King could feel it too was unclear, but he shifted positions to block Mango’s view of Purple, and they allowed themselves to relax a little.

“It’s not as bad as I’d feared,” King spoke in clear relief, though his small smile was dampened by clear hints of guilt, “How do you feel?”

Eager to clear that remaining fog of regret from the Old Man, Purple scoffed and tossed their hair back, preening dramatically, “Alas, despite Mango’s best efforts, the curse remains in full effect. I’m still tragically beautiful.”

King snorted, “At least your ego’s still in tact,” He then glanced down at the plate of pineapple and ham pizza sat nearby. It was Purple’s third slice, which they had no shame about. It wasn’t like they’d have to share with anyone but Gold (and maybe Blue, though she seemed content with her veggie pizza), “Ah, you ordered out?”

“Yup!” Purple chirped, breaking away easily from the Old Man’s fragile hold to take their food, “We tried to salvage the lasagna, but…”

“It killed a bush,” Blue blurted out, a haunted look in her eye as she recalled just how close she’d come to swallowing the rancid thing.

Both Mango and King wore comically identical expressions of shock at the news. King, more used to their mayhem than his younger self, broke free of his stupor first. He sighed and buried his face in his palm, “Of course. Of course it did. If the neighbors ever sue me because of you brats, I’m dragging you all down with me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!” Red chirped, like he was referring to casual criminal mischief and not that time King nearly killed them all. Purple couldn’t help laughing along with the others as they all cracked up. Nearly dying hadn’t been funny at the time, obviously, but among the many lessons these chaotic gremlins had taught Purple was that it was important to be able to look back at your pain and find the joy in it. It hurt, but it also gave Purple everything they had today, so it was hard to see it as all bad.

Someday, they mused, looking up at King’s grimacing face, they’d manage to convince the Old Man of the same.

For Gold, however, all the vague reference and laughter caused was confusion. “What do you mean?”

It had been so easy to forget, in the wake of all the revelry, that Gold still wasn’t aware of everything that had gone down. Purple could see the Old Man tense and pale as he realized what was coming, and without thinking Purple immediately took his hand, folded behind his back where nobody could see. They squeezed it tight, pouring all their care into their grip, letting the Old Man know, in their own way, that they were here, right here, and that it would all be okay. He wasn’t alone anymore. Their reward was seeing King slowly relax, his shoulders slouching and his breathing smoothing into an even, pleasant rhythm.

After a moment of drinking in each other’s comforting presence, King released Purple’s hand and exhaled, “I’ve brought this up to… your father before,” There was a strange intonation to those words, your father, and the implications made Purple frown, but they didn’t interrupt, “But there was more to the story I was telling you earlier. Things that happened after you died. You… deserve to know.”

Mango looked to the side. It wasn’t clear how much King had revealed to him, but it was enough for him to avoid his child’s confused eyes searching him for answers.

“Oh boy,” Yellow sighed, pushing back into the armchair and making herself comfortable, “Green, pass me another drink. This is gonna be a long one.” Green did so, and everyone made themselves comfortable on the couch. With tender care Second was shifted over to make enough of a spot for Purple to take a seat on the couch, which they did with a grateful smile. King grabbed the desk chair and took over Purple’s spot at the center of attention. Unlike Purple’s showmanship and jolly energy, however, he held himself solemnly, like a man trudging along to the guillotine.

It took them a moment to settle down enough for King’s satisfaction, and once they did he sighed and began, “When you… died,” The light in King’s eyes completely left him, “I lost everything I had. My hopes, my dreams, my faith in this world… it was all gone. How could I hold on to any of that when my baby was dead…?” Unrestrained tears fell from the Old Man’s eyes, and Purple’s fingers itched with the desire to reach out, to take his hand yet again. But the eyes around them, the burning anger in Mango’s face, the repetition in their head of ‘this is a family matter’ kept them frozen in place.

Gold, however, had no such restraints, and even Mango’s hold couldn’t stop the bright stick from slipping out of his grasp and over to King. His arms wrapped around the Old Man’s neck, grounding him with the pleasant weight of warm sunshine. Purple’s fingers dug into he fabric of their pants, wondering why couldn’t they just be happy to see that? Why did it hurt so bad? Why couldn’t they just be a good person?

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” Gold cooed, and King’s breath hitched, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

“Oh, honey,” Even through the tears, King managed to smile for Gold, “You never hurt me. Losing you was painful, but that was not your fault,” Purple turned to glance at Mango, and found him frowning in open displeasure at the sight before him. Well, at least Purple wasn’t the only bad person. King allowed Gold to hold him for a moment longer before gently, reluctantly, pushing him back, “but… please go sit down. I need to finish telling the story.”

With a great amount of effort, Gold broke away, sitting down next to where Mango was standing. The second he was within arm’s reach, Mango had him back in his embrace, holding him tight so he wouldn’t disappear again. His worried eyes stayed glued to King the entire time.

“Nothing mattered anymore. All I could think about was that moment, that terrible moment where I’d lost everything… I saw it every time I closed my eyes, every time there was a red light or a blaring alarm, every time I saw that cursed game symbol. It was all could think about. Every day and every night for… who knows how long. I was hurting, and I wanted to hurt the monster that took you from me.”

Silence fell over the room. While the friend group had known, in a general sense, that King had undergone some sort of trauma and went mad, this was the first time they’d truly realized why King had done what he did. Gold’s eyes widened, and Mango’s narrowed.

“But I’d already beaten the game’s technicians to a pulp,” That had Gold openly gaping, and Purple winced as a phantom pain echoed across their cheek. If King had gone that hard against the techs who’d been trying to run the game, they’d certainly felt it for days, “And the company had me sign a waiver. It’d been foolish of me not to read it, I know, but I couldn’t undo it. There was no legal recourse for me. I could’ve gone vigilante with it, but I didn’t have the resources or know-how to do such a thing without getting caught. And besides…” King’s eyes darkened, “My attention had focused… somewhere else.”

“On the game itself…” Green realized aloud. Red and Blue exchanged a look over Second’s head.

Gold still looked confused, but now there was a hint to alarm in his eyes, as though he was beginning to suspect what was going on, “I… don’t understand…”

“From my perspective,” King began to explain, “it had been Minecraft that had ripped you from me. The game was an unstable, volatile mess that promised you happiness and fun and instead robbed you of everything. I know now I wasn’t being rational, but at the time, it felt like the monster that had taken you from me was Minecraft itself. And I swore to myself that I was going to destroy it,” A mad gleam fell across King’s eyes, “No matter what it took.”

Mango’s posture had stiffened, looking over at his other self in something like astonishment, “...huh,” He muttered, “You weren’t kidding…”

“But- but-” Gold sputtered, confused and grieved and horrified by what he was hearing, “But it’s a game! An entire world filled with monsters, and npcs, and other players, and- and- innocent people!” Gold’s hand flew to his head, holding it high while Mango immediately reached to comfort him. How much comfort he could offer when he was the mirror image of the one who was upsetting Gold, however, was up for debate, “It wasn’t the game’s fault the fair booth was glitched up! You can’t punish innocents for something that wasn’t their fault!”

King sat silently, unable to meet Gold’s haunted eyes.

The utter anguish on Gold’s face struck Purple to their core. They still remembered the pain of being walked out on, and left behind, and having a back turned to their pleading hand. Being betrayed was rough. Being betrayed by a parent… well, nothing cut quite so deeply. Eager to push that pain out of Gold’s fragile heart, Purple intervened, drawing the spotlight to themselves, “But we beat him~!” They spoiled, hoping that knowing King lost would mitigate at least a bit of the heartache, “And we undid all the damage King and I did! No sticks were harmed in the making of this final showdown!”

“Uh, yes, sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown,” Yellow interrupted incredulously, “MANY sticks were harmed in the making of this showdown, actually.”

“Quiet, peg-leg,” Purple hissed back.

“Back up for a moment,” Mango suddenly interrupted, standing rigidly straight, “You said ‘all the damage King and I did’.” Purple winced. Yeah, they had let that slip, hadn’t they? “What do you mean by that?”

This was where King regained control of the narrative, taking back the spotlight from Purple to spare them the interrogation. “In order to destroy Minecraft, I needed an immense amount of power. Something strong enough to destroy the game down to its very base coding. Something from the game itself… to that end, I created a staff capable of harnessing the full power of any game item that I could acquire. I spent my life savings on illegal game smuggling, trying to get an item capable of what I’d envisioned, but nothing I acquired was strong enough. They could break things, sure, but they weren’t able to break down the game in the way I really needed. Then, during my research, I uncovered the secret of the Icon; an in-game item that enabled complete and total creative freedom over the world. You were invincible, able to place any item at whim, and had total control over the game. The only problem was nobody knew where to find it.

“I didn’t give up, though. Finding this thing, and using it to destroy the game that took my baby from me was all I could think about. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate. I wandered the city aimlessly, asking anyone who’d give me a second of time, ‘Have you seen this icon? Do you have any information? Please, anything, I’d give anything…” King’s voice cracked, which signaled him to take a moment, take a breath, before continuing, “Then, I finally found it. Through a YouTube video, of all things.”

A chorus of groans came from the couch and the armchair. Second buried their face in their hands. Green sighed and muttered, “That’s how you found us? Cursors damn it, Alan…”

“We’re gonna need to have another long talk about this,” Blue moaned, “Ugh, as if the last one hadn’t been bad enough.”

“Alan’s the human you all live with, right?” Purple asked, receiving some half-hearted confirmations in response.

Gold seemed confused by the mere concept, “You all live with a human?” He arched his eyebrow at them. Though his haggard eyes indicated King’s actions were still haunting him, Gold was able to put that aside for the moment to indulge a subject many city sticks knew little about: humanity, “I thought all humans were violent, stick-killing psychopaths.”

That wasn’t so uncommon a belief in a city run by Rocket Corp: everyone knew the tragic tale of its recently deceased leader, how they’d been created for the sole purpose of suffering and dying, how they’d manage to drag themselves from the Recycling Bin and rose to power, creating a safe haven where humans couldn’t touch them. Many older sticks had some human related trauma, from negligence to downright abuse, and though the younger generations were spared the direct trauma of human interaction, the horror stories remained.

“That’s not… always true…” Second protested, but it sounded weak and shaky for reasons beyond Second’s physical state.

The tension returned with a vengeance.

“...actually, that kinda proves King’s even dumber than we thought,” Red suddenly piped up, mockingly oblivious to the bristling of the Old Man. He picked the perfect insult; most things unrelated to Gold (or, occasionally, Purple themselves) rolled off King’s back, but one of the few insults he couldn’t stand was one to his intellect. It was, to put it in King’s own words, one of the few things he hadn’t lost that day, “I mean, you saw Alan’s videos of our adventures and you still thought it was a good idea to threaten and steal from us? Talk about moronic.”

Seething, King spoke through grinding teeth as he responded, “Well, I hadn’t exactly planned on fighting you kids…”

“You shouldn’t be fighting anyone,” Gold scolded, and though his glare bore into King, Purple didn’t miss his side-eye at Mango as well, “Or stealing anything.”

Thoroughly scolded, King winced and looked away, “Right, sorry. But, to continue, I used what I learned to seek out the sticks who had the Icon. That’s what lead me to Purple. Or, rather, them to me. I… wasn’t exactly honest with them.”

Purple snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. The guy framed the entire thing as a game. More extreme than I was used to, sure, but the end goal was to get complete and total control of Minecraft. With the staff and the full power of the Icon, we could rule together with an iron fist!” Purple pumped their first up, as though in example, “...Of course, I didn’t know what the staff was really capable of, or what the Old Man intended to do with it. If I had, I don’t think I’d have gone along with it.”

Or at least Purple would like to think they wouldn’t have. They didn’t want to ponder too hard on it – given Purple’s thirst for power and how nice the Old Man had been when Purple was obedient, Purple wasn’t sure they’d like the answer they’d come to.

“So, the Old Man and I conquered a fortress in the game… even without the Icon, the staff was ridiculously powerful, it was so easy. Then we set about following his plan. I’d go find the others and lure them into a trap, then I’d get the Icon for King and we’d conquer the world,” Purple looked over at their friends, and felt a familiar kick in their gut, “Again, I am so sorry about that. I had my reasons, but…”

“We know,” Green consoled, patting Purple on the shoulder, “We’ve already forgiven you.”

“You know what they say about trusting people,” Blue chimed in, grinning cheekily, “Third time’s the charm!”

“Don’t think that’s about trust…” Second rebuffed jokingly from the comfortable cushion of Blue’s shoulder.

Warmth flooded into Purple’s cheeks. They couldn’t say what miracle allowed their friends to forgive them after all the garbage they’d pulled, but Purple would never take it for granted. Er, this time.

Red had taken over story-time in the meanwhile, “So, we ran into Purple after an already pretty long day,” Purple could hear Blue mumbling under her breath. They couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but it made Second chuckle, “And they lured us into this parkour course. It was pretty fun at first! But, then I won, and I realized the others weren’t coming, and the guards wouldn’t let me leave…”

“We were trapped,” Green summarized, “Stuck there so King wouldn’t have worry about us while he stole our Icon… hey,” Green’s brow furrowed, “Were you just going to keep us there? While you blew up Minecraft? Did you at least have some way to get Purple out?”

This question made Purple look away from the Old Man’s face for the first time throughout the entire story. It was done and over with. They didn’t need to know. They didn’t want to know. King’s mistakes, however painful, were done and over with. They were happy now. Questions like these shouldn’t be haunting Purple. They shouldn’t.

“There were plans in place for that, to get you all back to your PC before everything went down. I may have been cruel, but I hadn’t planned to sacrifice anyone else to Minecraft,” King answered, and Purple let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding, “Things got… out of hand after you all broke out, though.”

“Seems they were out of hand for a long time before that,” Green quipped dryly.

Gold nodded along, staring blankly ahead of him, “Yeah, no kidding…”

The dismissive scoffing from Gold seemed to stun both King and Mango, but nonetheless King continued on, “When the kids realized what I was planning, they tried to stop me. We fought. I… didn’t hold back. Purple had succeeded in getting me the Icon, and after that I stopped caring about anything but reaching my goal. And… I succeeded.”

“Wait, what?!” Gold jumped up, alarmed, “No, but… no! Everyone here’s fine, that means you- did you actually destroy a whole…?”

Taking in shallow, rapid breaths, Gold backed away from King and held his head in his hands. Mango’s hands rubbing his back and voice speaking soothing comforts did little to ease his panic. Purple glanced back at King and felt their heart ache in what was surely only an echo of the pain the Old Man felt. Though he clearly longed to reach out, to close the gap and squeeze all the pain out of his child, something held him firmly in place. His hand, though outstretched, couldn’t seem to bridge the gap between them.

Well, if King couldn’t bring himself to comfort his child, then Purple would have to take up his job for him. They reached across the chasm between themselves and Gold and gently prodded his shoulder, forcing him to look up at Purple, “Hey,” They put on their biggest, most confident smile for Gold, “Remember what I said earlier? I turned on King, and the good guys won. Minecraft’s still in one piece. King screwed up, but nobody died, I promise.”

Too distressed to respond verbally, Gold just swallowed and nodded. His father drew Gold closer and hugged him tight, and though Gold’s hands gripped at Mango’s arms, he didn’t look any more at ease.

King’s longing eyes clung fast to Gold’s anxious form, but after a moment he continued, “With the Icon’s power, the staff was able to create a beam of destructive force that would erase the entire world of Minecraft line by line. And if anyone dared to try to stop me, all I had to do was point the beam at them and wait for them to be erased or give up,” Gold’s hands flew up to cover his mouth in shock, “But Purple… didn’t give up. Even when the beam was pointed right at them and their body was disintegrating…” The Old Man’s voice shook as he remember. Purple winced, rubbing at their arm to soothe an ache that wasn’t there, “They kept pushing forward, and… and by the time I’d realized what I was doing to them… they were almost…” The Old Man’s eyes, pained and sorrowful, redirected towards Purple. The sheer intensity of emotions forced them to look away. It was so hard to breath when he looked at them like that, so full of regret and guilt and something else, something warm that made Purple feel very, very small, “I… will never be able to apologize enough for that.”

For once, the natural snark Purple tended to depend on caught in their throat. All they could bring themselves to do was nod. Eyes bored into them from every side, but Purple kept their gaze glued to the ground and ignored them all.

“...So you almost killed Purple?” Gold spat. Purple pried their gaze from the flooring to where the other kid was staring, “It wasn’t enough for you to try and wipe out an entire world, you had to hurt the only person who was trying to help you, too?!”

King didn’t have a response. He didn’t even try to defend himself, merely hanging his head in shame.

Mango, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to reassure his child, “Don’t worry, Honey,” He tried to console, unaware that his soothing words made Gold grit his teeth all the harder, “This isn’t going to be our future. I’ll make sure of it-”

“Right, because you’re not going to do anything like that!” Gold snapped, pulling away from Mango’s attempts at comfort, “It’s not like you just started throwing punches at literally everyone the second you heard something you didn’t like!”

The poor Old Man couldn’t have looked any more hurt if Gold had punched him.

Scrambling to do damage control, Purple hopped up fully out of their comfortable seat on the couch to stand in front of Gold, arms held up placatingly. “Hey! Hey! It’s okay, it’s all gonna be-”

“It’s not okay!” Gold screamed at Purple, his tear-stricken face a near-perfect mirror of Mango’s. Unlike Mango, however, Gold immediately retreated when he saw Purple flinch away, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I just…. I don’t understand,” His head fell into his hands again, tears flowing free and unashamed down his face as he repeated, “I don’t understand… he hurt you. He almost killed you,” Purple idly rubbed at their arm, unsure of what to say, “How can you forgive that?” Gold looked past Purple, to the many sticks sitting at attention on the couch, “How can any of you forgive that?”

For a long, long moment, nobody spoke. The silence rang heavy in the air, a blaring siren of tension and pain. Then, with a rigid inhale, Second handed their single slice of barely touched pepperoni to Blue, who gave it a long glance before setting it aside, and sat up straight with visibly pained effort. Their voice was soft as they answered, “I can’t speak for the others, but now that I know, I can kind of understand why Mango- King did what he did.

“When you lose someone… or even think you’re going to lose someone… it’s like there’s a vice grip on your heart. You feel so many things, all at once, and they all make you feel small, and vulnerable, and helpless,” Second took a brief break to cough before diving right back into it, “but, one of those things you feel is anger, and anger is different. It… tricks you, because even though it's just as bad as the other stuff, it feels constructive. Like, even though everything’s breaking down around you, there’s something you can do. Some power you can take back. And by the time you realize it was lying to you…” Second’s eyes fell, clouded by dark thoughts, “You’ve already hurt the people you wanted to protect.”

Without exchanging words, Red reached over and took Second’s hand into his own, squeezing it tightly. Green’s arm wrapped around Second to pull them in close, allowing their head to rest against his pulse. Surrounded by the comfort of their friends, their tense body relaxed completely.

Gold frowned at the group, “But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“No,” King agreed, quietly surprising Purple. With how heavily his sins were weighing down on him, Purple hadn’t expected the Old Man to speak up again, “It doesn’t.”

Silence lingered in the air as Gold struggled to find a proper response. And evidently failed, as after a moment he looked to the others and asked, “How did you beat him?”

“It was all Sec, baby!” Green cheered, proudly displaying his orange friend.

Second rolled their eyes at him, “It was a team effort, actually. I realized we could reset the game if we got the Icon back to our PC, so we ran back as fast as we could and just BARELY made it!” After that proclamation, Second sunk further into Green, somehow looking even more tired, “For real, though, I wouldn’t have gotten close without you guys.”

“What would you do without us?” Yellow teased, a smug grin settling on her face. The friends shared a round of chuckles amongst themselves. Gold didn’t partake, only staring blankly at the wall behind the group. He only broke out of this trance when Yellow’s gentle touch on his arm caused him to jump, “Hey, I get it. You only just learned that you were going to die in less than two years,” Yellow spoke those words so casually, but the ripples of pain they caused through the room were all too palpable, “and then we dumped all this on you. It’d be a lot for anyone. You should take a break and get some rest. Looks like it’s getting pretty late, anyways.”

Purple glanced past their friends towards the window and, sure enough, the sun had set along the horizon, leaving the outside world blanketed in a canvas of shadows. Even if Second and Yellow weren’t injured, they’d likely be staying the night anyways. It was simply too dangerous to traverse through the Minecraft world at this time of night.

“Okay…” Gold acknowledged, hugging himself. Mango once again attempted to reach out to him and was once again rebuffed, “I’m… I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

And without another word, Gold disappeared around the corner of the bedroom hallway.

From there, everything began to unwind. There was an initial awkwardness that had been broken by Second yawning, which prompted everyone to clean down and get ready for the night. Green and Red went to the closet where King had stored extra bed supplies, Red grumbling all the while about how they couldn’t even compete for the spot on the couch. Green teased back easily, carrying probably too much for a guy with a suspected concussion. After dinner clean-up had fallen to Blue, who asked Second numerous times if they were done before carefully wrapping up the single pizza slice they’d been nibbling on for later. She carried stuff to the basement while Yellow, still stuck in her armchair, made herself useful by holding a trash bag, albeit begrudgingly. Mango had, of course, immediately jumped up to trail after his child, and disappeared into the hallway after him.

In the midst of all the chaos, King sat rigidly still, glossed over eyes staring dead ahead at nothing in particular. He didn’t so much as twitch as the flurry of activity picked up around him.

Taking a calming breath, Purple approached, resting a hand on his shoulder. The Old Man remained stationary, “Hey,” They broke the silence hesitantly, “You doing okay?”

For a moment, it was like King hadn’t even heard Purple. They were about to repeat themselves when he finally responded, “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” He asked.

“Yup.” Immediately responded Purple.

That, at last, broke the mask King wore, making a small smile appear, “No hesitation, huh?”

“Look,” Purple leaned their full weight on the Old Man, “I may not be an expert on ‘healthy family dynamics’,” They punctuated their words with air quotes, “but I’ve seen a lot of sitcoms in my time, and every time someone hides a big secret, it always comes out in the worst way possible. If you hadn’t told him yourself now, then he’d find out from someone else later, and that would have been far worse.”

Just the thought of that put a visible wince on King’s face, the poor Old Man nodding, “That’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to make him hate me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” They reassured, carefully watching King’s face to make sure he wasn’t getting too upset, “He’s scared, and hurt, and really overwhelmed. Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Well, Purple couldn’t really say that for sure. They weren’t in Gold’s head, after all. But speaking from their own personal experience, hating a parent was hard. So much harder than it had any right to be. Even now, in the midst of the happiest time of their life, Purple couldn’t stop their mind from wandering to dangerous what ifs, could have beens, and impossible futures where they had three loving, happy, healthy adults in their life.

Fragile hope sparked in the Old Man’s eyes, “You think so?”

“I know so,” Purple, master of ‘fake it ‘til you make it’, proclaimed.

Their reward was a pair of arms wrapping tightly around them, so quickly Purple couldn’t help the instinctual flinch in reaction, but once they recovered they immediately moved to return the embrace. Hugs weren’t uncommon between the two, per say, but there was something bittersweet about this one. After all, King had his own child back. This… may be the last hug Purple would get for a while. So they held fast for far longer than King was normally comfortable with, soaking in the warmth of his arms around them.

Purple would be okay with this. For King’s sake, they’d be a good person, just this once.

“Ahem,” A voice broke shattered the moment, ending the embrace and leaving Purple to retreat into their own cold loneliness. Mango stood there beside them, arms crossed, looking around at everything but Purple, “Sorry to interrupt,” He actually looked anything but sorry, but Purple wasn’t about to call him out and get punched again, “but I looked around, and I couldn’t help but notice that I no longer have a bedroom.”

Right… Purple had also taken over the Old Man’s room. King had presented it to Purple as a spare room, and he rarely slept through the whole night anyways, so it had taken Purple a while to piece together that the room next door had been Gold’s, not the Old Man’s. A part of them felt guilty for not even offering the room back to King, but they selfishly felt kind of glad that he was willing to make such a big sacrifice for Purple. Even so, it was clear in hindsight that Purple should have insisted they make themselves a room in the basement. And now they looked like a selfish prick in front of King’s kid and past self.

“That’s right,” King acknowledged, surprising Purple by taking one of their hands into his own, “Purple needed a space of their own, and I don’t sleep much anymore, anyways. Normally when I need to sleep I’ll catch a nap on the couch, but…” He glanced over to said couch, where Green was fluffing a pillow for Second, “I suppose that’s not an option tonight.”

Purple’s posture straightened immediately. They could sleep in the living room with the others – all five were used to bed sharing, it wouldn’t be too weird. That way Mango could get his old room back. It was only fair, since it was his room to begin with. And maybe they could start mending bridges with the younger Old Man, or at least get him to look them in the eye without glaring. They opened their mouth to make the offer-

“You can sleep on the floor in my room.”

-And Gold beat them to it. He’d appeared from behind the corner of the bedroom hallway, looking just as drained as he had when he’d disappeared.

Both King and Mango appeared startled by the invitation. “Both of us?” King asked incredulously, and his brow only furrowed further when Gold nodded, “Are you sure?”

“If I didn’t offer, you’d both just be up all night worrying about me anyways,” Gold huffed. It was clear from his guarded body language and low voice that nothing was forgiven quite yet – but for him to make this offer, Purple must have been right on the money with their earlier reassurances, “So, yeah. You can both sleep in my room with me if you promise not to fight.”

The two versions of Gold’s dad eagerly agreed, and Purple fell back, swallowing the unmade offer, where it lodged in their throat and weighed unbidden on their lungs. They’re fine, they told themselves, watching Gold walk away to grab what little linen remained in the closet after the friend group had taken what they’d needed. They were fine with this. The Old Man could be really, truly happy.

And if Purple felt anything other than pure joy at the thought? Well, that was just them being selfish again. They’d get over it.

---------------------

Mango had always been a light sleeper.

Even before Gold had come along, sleeping just wasn’t something that came naturally to Mango. He’d stay up late, awaken multiple times throughout the night, and be up and out of bed at what his old roommates called ‘the unholy hours of the morning’. Having a fussy baby around had only solidified this for him. As a small child Gold would often be up and out of bed for a late night glass of water or trip to the restroom, or to climb into Mango’s bed after a bad dream. He was used to his daily alarm being the sound of the hardwood floor creaking and groaning as Gold tried and failed to sneak into his room.

So when Mango’s fretful slumber was interrupted by the all too familiar rasping of old flooring, he was up before his brain could even catch up with his current situation. “Gold…?” He mumbled, pushing up from the surprisingly hard mattress he was sleeping on.

His full memory only came back to him when another hand, the same colour as his own, rested on his shoulder, reminding him that he’d been sleeping on the ground next to his own lookalike. “No, Gold’s still in bed,” King confirmed, tossing his head in the direction of the bed, where Gold slept with his back to the two, “That’s probably Purple. ‘M gonna go check on them… be right back.”

Without waiting for a response, King picked himself up and hobbled silently out of the room. Mango took a long, slow breath in, steadying his mind to recall everything that had happened. Right, he was in the future. King, who claimed to be him, was a failed terrorist, his kid was… dead… and then there was Purple.

Thinking of Purple made Mango scowl and roll back over. It wasn’t the kid’s fault his evil doppelganger had used them as a replacement for his dead baby, but it was hard to separate that reality from the sour taste King’s blatant affection left in his mouth. The tyrant didn’t hesitate to shower Purple with praise, or shield Purple from Mango with dagger-like glares. And because of… what? Gratitude to the kid for stopping him from destroying an entire world? Guilt for almost killing them? Why had Purple even come to King in the first place?

You know, there’s an easy way to find out…

Mango turned under his blankets to look away from the door. No. No, he wasn’t going out there. He couldn’t leave Gold alone after everything, and Purple wasn’t his problem. It was just a passing curiosity. Nothing more.

And where’s their real parents? Their real home? Who ARE they, anyways?

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Why were they so content to play therapist to a stick who almost killed them?

It… didn’t matter…

The way they cowered when you hit them… were they…?

Mango forced himself up. It wasn’t like he was going back to sleep, anyways.

Instead, he slipped out of Gold’s room, trailing far enough behind King that he wouldn’t take note of Mango’s presence. They both knew which of the floorboards would creak if they were stepped on, and which ones could be traversed safely, so following after King was a simple affair, even in the dead of night. They both cautiously stepped over the gaggle of sticks sleeping like babies in the living room, carefully maneuvered through the completely destroyed kitchen, and Mango watched King slip out the back door before creeping next to it. The wood of the door, while splintered, was one of the more undamaged parts of the room. While the air carried a mildly humid heat, the door was pleasantly cold against Mango’s face as he pressed his ear against it to listen in to the two on the other side.

“Hey,” King began with a greeting, and Mango could hear someone scrambling on the other side of the door.

“Ack! H-hey, don’t scare me like that,” Purple’s scolding voice responded.

Laughter followed, deep but playful, “Sorry, sorry.”

“What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Huffed the younger stick.

This was followed by an exaggerated groan of complaint as King audibly ruffled Purple’s hair, “I barely sleep on the best of days, and today’s been… a lot.” Purple mumbled something that sounded like agreement, “So I was already awake when I heard you leave your room. So, you want to tell me what’s up?”

A long, silent moment, filled with only the distant sound of crickets in the night, passed before Purple eventually responded, “I- It’s nothing, really. Sorry to drag you out here-”

“Don’t give me that,” Chided King, “C’mon, tell me what’s going on. The King demands it.”

Purple snorted in laughter, though it wasn’t a particularly jolly sound. Rather, it sounded… tired, “It’s not important,” They tried to downplay, “Just… a bad dream. I’ll be fine.”

“Ah,” Another moment of silence passed, followed by a simple question, “Pink or Blue?”

“Why do you think it always comes back to…?” There was another pause, in which Mango could imagine King giving Purple the same look Mango would give Gold when his child would come home with unauthorized candy. Purple sighed, “Pink.”

“That makes sense, given that we’ve seen the dead come back to life today,” King shuffled over on the stoop; closer to Purple, maybe, “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Not really much to talk about,” Purple proclaimed, before elaborating anyways, “Mama and Pops and I were up at the beach, north of the city. Do you know it? It’s at the lake with the little island in the middle.”

“Never been, but I’ve heard good things,” Confirmed King, “Is it nice?”

“It’s beautiful,” Purple sighed, their voice tinged with melancholy and nostalgia, “We’d go every year, and we were always there until super late at night. Pops would carry me on their shoulders into the deep water, and Mama would take me to see where all the pretty fish gathered… then, when it got late, we’d have ice cream and watch the sun set together. No matter what else was going on, we were always happy there.”

Were. Mango’s mind clung to that word, brow furrowing. He knew now that Purple had parents at some point, but the family they came from seemed to be in just as much ruin as King’s own. That answered some questions, and raised so many more.

“We’ll have to go up there sometime,” King responded, speaking to Purple like one might speak to a skittish kitten.

“Yeah…” Despite the affirmation, Purple didn’t sound particularly enthused at the idea, “but, normally when I dream of the beach, it’s a happy dream. So I was surprised when a storm rolled in and my Pops… disappeared. Then I heard screaming, and I saw my Mama out in the water, where it was really deep. There was something clinging to her. Some kind of… monster. I couldn’t make it out really well, but it had really big, really sharp teeth.

“It dragged Mama down into the water. She kicked and screamed, and started coughing really bad, but she couldn’t get away from it. At first I just sat there and watched like a total idiot,” Mango couldn’t help wincing at the raw bitterness in Purple’s voice, all directed inward, “but as soon as I was able to move I dove down after her. I swam as fast as I could, but it was like there was some sort of upward current. I couldn’t break free of it, no matter how hard I kicked, and she just got dragged down further, and further, and then… then I couldn’t see her anymore,” Purple’s voice shook a little, “I… once I lost sight of her, I froze. All I could think was that I wasn’t strong enough to save her, wasn’t good enough to save her, and it hurt so bad. I didn’t even realize I was drowning too until I woke up gasping.”

King and Mango both took a tense moment to absorb Purple’s story. The guilt Mango had been suppressing redoubled in his chest, creating an uncomfortable bubble of pressure within him. Despite the way their voice shook and warbled as they recounted their dream, Purple wasn’t crying. Was it because they didn’t want to burden anyone with their grief? Were they too used to the pain to cry? Mango couldn’t say for sure, but the idea of a child pushing their pain down so deeply, when they were being used as a narcotic to drug away someone else’s…

“I’m… so sorry,” King cooed softly, his voice a careful orchestra of concern and restraint. “You know… once Second recovers, we can ask them to do what they did for Gold for your mom. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

“...No.” Purple’s answer was sad, but resolute, “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. What happened to Gold was a tragic accident. Mama’s death was… not. She died of a long, incurable, painful illness, and we don’t know if Sec’s healing powers work on diseases like that. If we brought her to the future, no matter how far back we went, I’d just have to watch her die again. Not only that, she’s so nice, all my friends would love her, and then they’d have to lose her too. It just wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.”

Mango felt a stupor fall over him as he mulled over Purple’s answer. When he’d learned about Gold’s death, he could only process two things: the fury he felt at the monster who’d allowed his baby to die, and the urge to protect Gold, no matter what it took. The effects on other people, on the world around him… he’d never even considered such things. How could he even think of anything but his child? The amount of thought Purple was able to put into the consequences of their actions was… utterly baffling.

“That’s an incredibly mature decision,” Spoke the King, “and I’m so sorry you had to make it, sweetheart.”

“Eh, those were more like excuses not to ask, really.” Purple sighed, far more world-weary than any kid their age should sound, “Even if the others didn’t kill me for asking after Sec almost died, it wouldn’t be right to make them risk their life again just for me,” They paused, then added, “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.”

“I know,” Consoled the adult. Mango could hear him gently patting Purple on the back, presumably, and without thinking Mango clasped his own hands together. “I’ve heard being in a more comfortable space can help with nightmares. You said you wanted a hammock bed, right? That shouldn’t be too hard to install.”

There was a brief pause before Purple answered, “You… don’t mind me modifying your room like that?”

“Your room,” King corrected without hesitation. “It’s your space now, Purple. I’d like some heads up if you want to, you know, knock down walls or anything, but you can change it up however you like. You deserve to feel at home here.”

“Heh,” A little more cheer was evident in Purple’s voice as they absorbed King’s words. They seemed more confident, somehow, “Yeah, thanks. Hey, maybe we can take that trip up to the beach. You know, if you don’t bring any drama.”

Now that Purple’s mood was on the upswing, King’s own voice took on a more jovial tone as well, “Excuse you. I’ll have you know that I had absolutely zero flair for the dramatic before you entered my life.”

Mango couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Um, no. Even he had to call bull on that one.

“You’re welcome~!” Purple teased back, “But, seriously, the beach is kind of my happy place. So we can only go together if you promise to keep it a happy place.”

Context made King respond a bit more seriously, “I promise. Nothing but happy memories at the beach!” Then he hummed in thought, “It might be a while before we get to go, then. ‘Drama’ has kind of taken over our lives right now.”

“When hasn’t it?” Purple joked back, “But, until then, maybe we can go somewhere else? And we can even bring Gold and your evil twin.” Mango scowled as King snorted. How did he, the one who wasn’t a terrorist, end up with the title of evil twin? “Like, we can check out the amusement park! Or I can show Gold my tree house-”

“Gonna have to veto that one, bud,” Interrupted King, “I know it wasn’t the game’s fault, just some malfunctioning tech, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be comfortable with Gold going into Minecraft after what happened… I’m only barely able to handle you going in there alone.”

Mango flinched away from the door for a moment. The game that killed his kid… Purple played it? And King let them? What was wrong with this guy?

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Purple agreed casually, as if they weren’t talking about a stick-killing murder simulation, “then I guess we can do something else. Maybe the park?”

“Yeah, the park…” King sighed dreamily. Which park they were referring to was easy to guess; it had been his and Gold’s go-to place for after school playtime since the kid was a kid. His child was a hyperactive angel of destruction, and the park was a perfect place to let out all that excess energy in a healthy manner. Mango smiled at the memory of scrapes on his arms and legs from sword dueling with branches. He could practically feel Gold’s weight in his hands as he helped the child across the monkey bars. If Mango had to pick a happy place of his own, that would probably be it. “That sounds lovely. Gold could show you all his favourite spots, I could use myself as a punching bag to teach you both proper dueling,” Mango rolled his eyes as Purple let out a snorting laugh, “We could get corn dogs.”

“I hate corn dogs.” Purple answered. He’d suspected it after noting their taste in pizza, but this confirmed it for Mango: Purple was an absolute heathen.

King took this betrayal in stride, “Then the princess can get themselves a pretzel.” Purple tried to complain, but King cut them off by ruffling their hair. He chuckled fondly at them, all sweet and loving and… how could he not feel any guilt, showing them this kind of affection, when all he’d done was use Purple to fill the hole in his life? “How are you feeling now?”

“Mm…” Purple took a moment to mull it over before answering, “Tired, actually. I think I’m ready to head back in.”

The two were already standing by the time Mango processed what that meant. He scrambled to separate himself, jumping away like it was on fire and hopping across the sprawled out bodies of Purple’s friends like they were hurdles on a track. The echoing creak of the door opening hit Mango’s ears just as he darted out of sight, throwing himself behind a wall to avoid being seen. Purple and King were murmuring softly between themselves as they slowly and carefully walked through the living room to avoid waking Purple’s friends.

That slowness would be Mango’s saving grace. He turned and began creeping through the hallway towards Gold’s bedroom at the end. In his haste to escape, he forgot himself, and placed a foot down without thought.

Creeeaaaak

...Damn it. Mango winced. It was doubtful that Purple heard that, given how new they were to the house, but there was no way any version of himself would mistake the sound of the door outside his old room creaking. Not with how many times he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a restless little golden angel knocking at his door.

“...Purple, hold up a second,” King’s voice quietly called out. Purple’s questioning noise turned to one of shock, “You’ve got something on your cheek. Here, let me-”

“Ew, Old Man, no-!”

Oh. King was giving him a chance to get away without being busted by Purple. Mango didn’t take the time to question his motives; he quickly walked, paying more mind to avoid the squeaky boards on the floor, and cautiously, quietly, pulled the bedroom door open. It made a slight squeaking noise, but there wasn’t really any hiding that, so Mango hurried inside and shut the door as quietly as he could manage.

Gold, thankfully, was still in bed, turned away from where King and Mango had set up their blankets for the night. Even in his sleep today’s events were clearly weighing on him, and Mango’s heart ached at the sight.

At least the poor kid was able to get some rest.

--------------------

Gold hadn’t been able to get any rest that night.

How could he? The joy and excitement of preparing for the tournament this morning felt like a far off, distant dream. All he could think about was that shameful confession his father – his Dad – had poured out to him. All the people he’d hurt, the world he’d almost destroyed for Gold, over an incident that was almost completely separate from the game itself.

Both Dad Mango and Dad King had gotten up at some point, but Gold hadn’t even bothered to roll over and check on them. Were they fighting again? It shouldn’t have mattered, but another knife of betrayal stabbed into Gold anyways. He’d asked them to do one thing, one thing! And they couldn’t even manage that.

As he laid there, Gold’s mind flickered through the day’s events like he was mindless clicking through programs on the television. Purple had tried to hide it, or downplay it, or whatever, but Gold knew that his dad had hurt everyone in the living room, including Purple themselves. Whenever he tried to close his eyelids, his imagination conjured movies of the others fighting for their lives, of Dad glaring them down with a maniacal grin on his face, of Purple pushing against the pain of whatever hell Dad had summoned, begging him to stop, glitches and errors threatening to pull them apart pixel by pixel just like they had King Dad’s Gold…

Tears burned at his eyes, and Gold sniffed and hastily wiped them away. He’d always known his Dad had a temper, but… but he’d thought his Dad was a good person…

Eventually one of the Dads came back, a near inaudible creak in the otherwise dead silent night signaling his return. Gold didn’t bother to turn over to check which one, or if it was both of them. The idea of talking to his own Dad made him feel worn down – the bad kind of worn down, where your entire body was sore and you could feel the strings of sanity snapping in your mind. Gold held as still as he could and hoped Dad wouldn’t approach to check on him.

Several moments passed, and Gold felt a sense of guilty relief when he heard the rustling sound of sheets as Dad got back under the covers.

He was followed soon enough by the door opening again, and other Dad entered. The door clicked shut behind him, only audible in the silence of night, and then the air was painfully still. The lack of noise caused Gold’s heart to beat louder in his ears. Anticipation stole his breath.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, you know.”

Gold gulped down his nerves. Shoot.

Thankfully, before he could make the mistake of speaking up, the other version of his Dad, the one who’d entered first, responded from where he laid on the floor, “...Sorry.” The voice was soft, and lacked the hostility he had in previous conversations with himself.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” The Dad not laying down answered, “Tomorrow you’ll be telling Purple, and saying a proper ‘sorry’,” His tone was firm, and Gold realized that the one standing by the door was, most likely, King.

“I will,” Mango replied. He didn’t put up a fight at all, which somehow made Gold more nervous and suspicious than he would’ve been if he’d fought the demand. He paused for a brief second, then asked, “...Purple’s mom is dead?”

Gold’s breath caught in his throat. Purple was… was that why Purple went along with everything Dad had wanted? Because they didn’t have anyone else?

King sighed out a long, tired sigh before responding, “Yeah. She’s been dead longer than Gold. Some glitch in her core coding… I haven’t exactly pressed Purple for details, and they weren’t keen on giving them.”

“And their other parent?” Mango asked gingerly. Gold was reminded of an incident from when he was younger, when he’d broken a window with a baseball, and Dad was asking about the damages owed. The dread was tangible.

For a long moment King didn’t respond, and Gold was almost starting to think he wouldn’t when he finally answered, “That’s not my story to tell,” King’s voice was tinged with quiet rage, making Gold shiver. Is that what the others heard, when his Dad tried to destroy a world? Or was Gold’s father louder in his villainy? “And if I tried, I’d genuinely get too angry to sleep. Just know that if I had my way, that stick would NEVER get anywhere near Purple again.”

“So my hunch was correct,” Mango’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible, “The kid’s an abuse victim.”

Oh, and it just got worse.

“Like I said, Purple’s story isn’t mine to tell.” King spoke through gritted teeth, “If you want the details, you can ask them like the adult you’re supposed to be. But I’m not saying anything else about it. I don’t even think Purple knows how much I know about their previous home.”

Mango scoffed, “No wonder the kid’s so attached. How can you not feel guilty?”

“Guilty?” King echoed.

“For using that kid like you are? For taking in some sad, pitiable orphan just to make them replace your dead child?”

That- that wasn’t true, Gold forced himself to think. There was no way that Gold’s Dad would do that to some poor kid, right? But… there was no way Gold’s Dad would commit attempted murder, or destroy an entire world, either. He searched himself for some sign, any sign, that his Dad wouldn’t do that to Purple, and was met only with a clawing emptiness in his chest.

At this point, Gold didn’t know what to think of his own father.

“I’ve already told you,” Anger crept into King’s voice, though he kept the volume low, “Purple is not a replacement for Gold. They’re not some pet project, or some band-aid solution I’ll abandon now that Gold’s back.”

“...Well, it’s not like it’s my business,” Mango dismissed. Gold could hear rustling as he turned away from King, “Once I have the money, Gold and I are out of here. After that? You and your sad orphan can play happy house all you like.”

Bile churned in Gold’s stomach. How could his dad talk like that about Purple? After what they’d done for Gold? After what he’d learned about them?

Was his Dad always a bad person, and Gold had just been too stupid to see it?

The argument may have continued, but Gold was beyond caring. Bitter resentment and sour guilt pooled in his stomach to create a nauseating mixture. He couldn’t understand; how could his Dad claim to love him while using his death as an excuse to treat the people around him like trash? And poor Purple, caught in the middle. King’s emotional support and Mango’s target of resentment, allowing themselves to take on the Ochre family’s burdens so the rest of them could be happy. It felt to Gold like someone should take on Purple’s burdens, for once.

And if his father wasn’t up to the task? Well, then Gold would have to do it instead.

---------------------

(Inhale) So.

I've been itching to put this story down for a while. My original idea was to make it a comic, but after some thought I decided to make it a fanfic instead. I just didn't expected it to be so LONG. Seriously, this is a multichapter fic and this is chapter ONE. Oh boy.

Feel free to let me know what you think so far, or if you come across any typos or anything. I did my best to edit, but this ended up being a lot longer than I'd expected. There were just so many little moments I'd wanted to include, I couldn't bring myself to cut anything.

I'm not sure how often I'm going to update this fic. It took like a month of work to write and draw everything, and I do have other things I want to do. But I'll do my best, I promise.

#Okay so I found this through ao3 and I flipped. I'm too scared to comment on there so I'm going feral here.#OHMYBDCHFUCKFIGN GODTV YOUREW THE PERSOEN YOUREE THE THE TFRWLLE yOURE THE FELLA I KNEW FROM MY THSC PHASE!!!!! YOURE THE ONE WHO WROTE VS!!#(Valiant Souls I mean) OH MY GODSHGDHEAVENS!!! I ADOREW THIS #side note: I think I have an inadvertent fondness of sticks BUT that aside #OH MY GOD KING ORANGE AND PURPLE AND TSC AND RED AND THE REST OF THE COLOR GANG!!!!!#(You can tell who's the favorites from who gets mentioned first.)#YOU DON'T KNOW HOW QUICKLY I SCRAMBLED TO READ THIS FIC AFTER I SEARCHED UP VS ON AO3 REREAD THE CLOSING CHAPTERS OF IT #(Can't believe I was still lurking there to see the tumblr banner change during an important chapters release I liked VS a lot did you know)#I looked at your profile there and flipped when I saw AvA there but why was I surprised I thought. Sticks. Of course. Of course you did.#I LOVE THIS FIC??? I LOVE HOW YOU CAN MAKE ME HATE MY THEORETICAL PAST SELF AND HOW I KNOW I'D BE TOO STUBBORN TO SEE MY OWN DOWNFALL??#YOU POTRAYED THAT FEELING SO WELL?? THE IDEA OF LOOKING AT A MIRROR OF YOUR PAST SELF? *cough* sorry anYway. The idea that even as you con-#convince your past self on why falling into this rabbit hole™ of rage you know you'll fall into is bad but your past self thinks you're-#you're big bad and stupid and does the Thing™ you know will get him into trouble and only hurting others around him in ways he doesn't reali #(I am looking at one person. Hi Mango- no not you King hi King)#Tell Gold I said hi./j #SPEAKING OF GOLD — CALL ME INSANE BUT IT'S FUNNY HOW PURPLE HAS MUCH IN COMMON WITH GOLD BUT NOT (This was mentioned wasn't it?#‘the more differences I find between them the parallels alike them outweigh’ or something of the like. Mango(King) you funny man.)#JXNSDKAJFHSJDJSJDJSJD #Okay sorry but I looked at the cover again.#I still sincerely believe that is NOT a trophy #That looks either like an IV bag (what's it called?) or a hamster bottle or like someone else said — a water bottle. No offense —#I have severe processing issues./hj #I love that charming mistake.#And final note. I think.#Clearly this fic wasn't designed to be visualized with the design for KO/MT I had in mind because an averagely heavy man pinning down some—#some burly mf who's just taking the brunt sounds utterly comedic. (Mango the former King the latter. Of course.)#I adore this fic I came cause I know you for writing good Sticks and what do I come back to? You writing good sticks. I actually love that.#AvA #AvM #King Orange

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peachigummi · 5 months ago

Text

here's a lesson ✎ mattheo riddle.

summary: classic mattheo coming to terms with how he feels about reader. slytherins are having a formal party - and guess what! someone else asks reader to the party, making him jealous!! mattheo tells them it’s a bad idea. yet, they still decide to go through with it. he obviously takes the opportunity to smugly watch from afar while trying to have fun himself. he’ll teach you a thing or two about what happens when you don’t listen to him 🤭🤭.

pairing: tutor / best friend! mattheo x fem! reader (one use of “y/n”)

warnings: mainly banter, mild jealousy (aka not too insanely toxic), mentions of alcohol/weed, spanking, spitting (one mention of it), fingering, unprotected piv, missionary (if it’s hard to imagine the position), pillow princess action ✨ (I’ll say this again, personally, ME, personally, me and I, could not ever let this slide when it comes to Mattheo, im too feral.), overstimulation, dacryphilia (i do think our dear matty would kinda really be into it), choking, eh kind of edging, praise!, creampie 🫣🤭🤭

note: im very sorry for not keeping my word about putting this out before my trip with my buds. althoughhhh i brought my laptop with me and here i am c: working on this for yall. i really hope you enjoy this, its a lengthy read because i just love tension so much.

word count: 11k+ (partially why this took so long to post im so sorry. lots of plot)

(trust i will never perfectly proofread my work at this point)

mattheo told me that he expects you to reblog, like & comment so you better do it. do you want to make him mad? (BWAHAHA jk...unless 🤨)

°. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂ִ °. •̩̩͙ ִ * ° ໋•̩̩͙ ִ 𓈒ּ ° 𓂂

Mattheo and you were seated on one of the sunny courtyard tables, papers and books displayed all out on the flat surface. You were distracted by your phone, paying little focus on the task at hand. You let out small laughs and smiles, Mattheo was watching you for a while now wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You would snort and shake your head, sighing to yourself. He didn’t like that someone or something was distracting you from him and your studies..of course the studies were more important despite listing himself first. He leaned over to grab your chin, forcing you to turn and face up at him, “pay attention.” Mattheo hissed.

You couldn’t help but blush as he did this, making you look into his deep brown eyes, “I’m sorry Mattheo…”

A small smirk appears on his face when he notices you blush, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “You should be. You’re too distracted on that damn phone.” He continues to hold your chin in place.

“I was just asked out on a date…I mean I think it’s a date…” you move his hand away from your face, going back to your phone. You scroll up on the message thread and push it toward him to look over.

Mattheo’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a look of irritation, first when you pulled away from him, and secondly, after reading the message exchange. He pushes your phone back at you, looking at your eyes with annoyance. “Why would he do that? Why would you say yes?” He asked with a snarky tone, clearly not pleased about you being asked out by someone else.

Mattheo had been your tutor at first, but eventually you both became close friends through the forced proximity. Your grades were much higher because of him, and despite not needing him as much for that purpose - you both still hung out with each other. To be truthful and completely honest with yourself, it was because you had a fat crush on him…but it never turned into anything more. So you just enjoyed being his friend.

You decided to jump back into the dating scene after the unsuccessful attempt (as if you even tried confess to Mattheo and turn your relationship into something more; you needed him to make the first move), but it was a struggle because well…you were with Mattheo most of the time. At this point people thought that you had an open relationship, where he’s the one going on dates with different girls and not you. People didn’t approach you, not romantically. So naturally, you were in a state of giggling surprise when you were asked out.

“It’s Charlie…do you know him? Yay big, muscular, dark headed, dreamy bedroom eyes…he’s a Ravenclaw.” You describe him while showing Mattheo goofy photos of Charlie that he had sent you.

He clenched his jaw, clearly not liking the way you described him. He pushed your phone away again, not wanting to see more of the guy. “Yeah, I know him. He’s in my class.” He said coldly, looking at your eyes with irritation.

“Really - what’s he like in it?” You leaned into Mattheo, excited for more information on Charlie.

“Why would you want to go out on a date with him?” Mattheo ignored your question.

“Why not? It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone…” you rolled your eyes, “you wouldn’t understand since you’re always going out.”

He huffed as soon as you mentioned him going on dates. It wasn’t exactly untrue, but the fact that you were going out on a date with someone else now annoyed him more than he’d like to admit. “Because you could do so much better than him and besides, who says I always go on dates?” Mattheo crossed his arms, looking slightly defensive.

Yeah - like I could be dating you!

You let out a sigh. “Mattheo don’t even play games with me right now. You literally went on a date with my childhood best friend last week! And you knew how much that pissed me off.”

He couldn’t help but wince slightly as you brought that up, clearly regretting it. “Okay fine. And? That was last week.”

“I heard from a little owl that Margie has been begging you to take her to her grandfather’s funeral as a date!” You blurt out almost laughing, “can you imagine how insane that sounds!? Bless her grandfather, may he rest in peace…but goddamn Mattheo, these girls are shameless when it comes to you.”

He rolled his eyes, he had to admit, he couldn’t believe just how desperate some girls were when it came to him. “Yeah, don’t remind me. I’ve told her multiple times that I don't want to go with her, but she just won't listen. She’s persistent as hell!”

You nudged his side playfully, “you’ve got to admit it’s kind of funny though.” You smile at him. It was easy to get him frustrated, but at the end of the day you didn’t want him to feel that way. It was bad on the body to be so angry all the time.

He groaned, but couldn't hold back his chuckle. “Yeah I suppose it is a little funny…and annoying. Mostly annoying.” Mattheo said in a slightly lighter tone. While he did love to have girls practically throwing themselves at him all the time, it did get to be too much sometimes.

“But yeah…Charlie asked me if I wanted to go to our own Slytherin party…like duh I was already going!” You paused going back to your notes, comparing them to Mattheo’s, “I mean could you imagine me turning him down and still having to see him in my own common room?”

He huffed again, not liking how you brought the conversation back to Charlie. “Well you could’ve at least pretended to think about it. Don’t want him to get the wrong idea.” He really didn’t like the idea of you going to this party with him, but he didn’t want to come off as too possessive either.

“Wrong idea? I think I like him. He’s funny…smart..and seems nice enough.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling down at your notes, “no one ever approaches me…they’re too afraid of you.”

Mattheo’s eyes narrow slightly when you admit this, and when you list what his good qualities were. He clenched his jaw, “What, you mean you actually like him? Really?” There was a hint of jealousy in his voice that he couldn’t quite completely hide.

“Oh c’mon Matty, it’s not a crime.” You put your hand behind his back, rubbing circles to calm him down. “Let me just take a chance. If things go bad then you can rub it in my face okay? You can tell me that I was ~dumb~ that you were ~right~” You say in a singsong voice, knowing how much he liked teasing you when it came to showing how much better he was than you.

He couldn’t fight staying irritated when you touched him like that. It was slowly calming him down, “fine, fine. I’ll let you have a chance with this guy.” He spits one last time. “If things go bad I am most definitely going to rub it in your face. I guess I’ll have to go to this party to watch you.”

“That’s my boy.” You put your head on his shoulder before returning to your notes, “Now how do I pronounce this incantation?”

Once you finished your studying together, you both walked to the great hall to have dinner. You were both back to your usual joking selves. You sat down at the Slytherin table, there was a louder buzz than usual, everyone seemed excited for the weekend to start.

“I guess everyone’s excited for tomorrow.” Mattheo said, watching you sit down first before he did.

“I have this new dress just for the event too! I love how there’s a solid theme this time around. It’ll be fun to see everyone dressed up all spiffy.” You say excitedly, being easily influenced by everyone’s energy. You grabbed Mattheo’s plate, serving him his food first before grabbing something for yourself.

“Oh, a new dress? I bet it looks good on you.” He smiled at your excitement, but he was still feeling slightly annoyed and worried at your choice of date. He tried not showing it. He watched as you served him his food, his eyes unable to hide his affection he had for you. You always took good care of him. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I don't want anything bad to happen to you at this party. I know you’re excited and everything, but just be careful alright? I’ll be there watching but…I’m going to be outnumbered. There’s going to be lots of people and not all of them are good.”

You notice his change. You set his plate down in front of him and feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “Mattheo are you okay?”

He batted your hand away when you checked his forehead, clearly not liking being fussed over. “I’m fine. I just…don't trust other guys around you. They’re animals and they might try something with you, especially since you’re going to wear this new dress that you’re so excited about…” He could just imagine the looks you’d be getting already.

“Oh stop it Mattheo. I appreciate your concern, but it has nothing to go with the dress. Literally everyone is going to be dressed up, it’s going to be fancy. Here, if it makes you feel any better I can show you my dress beforehand for your approval.” You try hard to keep yourself from rolling your eyes, Mattheo had good intentions but he didn’t need to worry.

He smirked, he liked the idea of being the one to approve your dress, even though he knew he was being overbearing and overprotective. “Yeah, I think that would make me feel better. I mean, I need to make sure the dress is appropriate and not too revealing, you know?” He couldn’t help but relish having that power over you.

“It really isn’t though, it’s perfect and beautiful. It shows the perfect amount of skin to make it fun.” You bite your finger and wink at him. You took your own plate now, choosing your usuals.

Mattheo watched as you filled your plate, his eyes unable to resist roaming over your body for a moment as you leaned over the table, “perfect amount of skin, huh? I’ll be the judge of that.”

You knew that Mattheo was staring at you, so you wiggle your hips a little before sitting down. You smack the side of his head when he continues gawking, “tame yourself, Riddle.” He chuckled when you did this. He was going to make a snarky remark when Theodore came over and interrupted you both.

“GUYS PLEASE!” Theodore said, putting an arm around each of you, “hurry up and finish eating, I need help with the common room set up.”

“Damn it, Theo, can’t you just wait? We’ll help you set up the common room, just give us a break for now.” He didn’t like being interrupted when he was enjoying your presence.

You look at him, “Teddy, we still have a full day. Don’t be so worried. You’ll have more hands to help you now that everyone is done with Friday classes.” Theodore wanted to lead this event, he had complained for too long that Slytherins needed to reestablish a sense of powerful class and elegance. “You’re looking pale. Come sit, eat. You can’t miss your own party.” You pull Theodore down to sit in between Mattheo and you.

Theodore slumped down in the seat, grumbling about how stressed he was about the party. “I just want everything to be perfect, okay? This party needs to be one to be remembered, we can’t be known for having sleazy ones. Ugh…who am I kidding, knowing our house, everything is going to turn out terrible -”

“Teddy, no it’s not.” You take his plate, filling it with different proteins to give him energy. “Look around, everyone is excited. They’ll all be more than willing to help. We all know this party is going to be different from the rest.” You hug him after setting his plate down.

He looks around the Great Hall, feeling the buzz. “I guess you’re right.” He looked down at his plate and began to eat, taking your advice to give himself some energy.

You couldn't help but ruffle his hair knowing how stressed he was, “please take care of yourself okay? We’ll help. Mattheo and I will go with you after this.” Theo didn’t mind the hair ruffle, he actually cracked a smile at your concern for him and the fact that you were trying to take care of him when he wasn’t. If it wasn’t for Mattheo’s not so subtle possession over you, Theo would have made you his by now.

You lean backwards over to slap Mattheo’s arm subtly so he could say some words of encouragement.

“Damn it, woman, quit slapping me.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, rubbing his arm where you had slapped him, giving you a mock-hurt look. You glare at him, go on say something nice! “Alright, alright. Look, Theo, you’ve always have great ideas for stuff like this. This party will be a success, okay? Just relax and take it easy, we want to see you at your own party tomorrow.” He was sounding a bit mocking, but he was sincere.

You smile at him, pleased with his words.

Draco suddenly popped up in front of the group, “which should I wear…!” He looked nearly as panicked as Theodore did. The three of you looked at the two suits he was holding up. They were literally identical down to the cufflinks. You wanted to snort.

“Seriously, Draco? Those suits look exactly the same. Just close your eyes and pick one, geez.” Mattheo spoke up, finding it amusing how ridiculous Draco was over such a trivial thing. You were trying your hardest to hold in your laugh, your mouth was cupped by your hand.

“You guys suck.” Draco said before making his way to Astoria. We watched as she looked just as confused as we did, but she pointed at one of them. He visibly looked immediately relaxed. Draco was hopeless sometimes.

“Seriously, Draco can be such a drama queen sometimes. He couldn’t even pick an outfit without needing Astoria’s help. He’s so dependent on her sometimes.”

“I kinda love that for them though…” You stared at the two love birds before returning to your plate, rolling the grape around with your fork.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, giving you a smirk. “You’re such a hopeless romantic. Always swooning over other couples and their lovey-dovey moments.” He felt a little pang of guilt, for not allowing another man to get close to you so you could experience that. We shook his head when he thought about that, trying to get rid of the feeling.

“Shut up Mattheo.” You stabbed the grape, putting it into your mouth begrudgingly. As you did so you looked toward the Ravenclaw table, seeing that Charlie was already staring at you. You wondered for how long he was watching you. You blushed and waved.

Mattheo let out a soft sigh, he enjoyed knowing he could rile you up with his teasing. He followed your gaze and saw you looking at Charlie, who was staring at you lovesick. “Oh great, there’s your lover boy, looking at you like a lost puppy.” He snickered, hating it.

You dropped your smile when you pried your eyes off Charlie, “blah blah blah.” Mattheo was lucky Theodore was still silently munching on his food in between you two, or it would have earned him another smack on the head or an ear pull. “And who are you taking as your date?”

He just shrugged, “I literally made the decision to go to this party once I found out you were going… with someone. I will have to just go solo.” He said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the idea of being able to flirt with other girls without the constraints of being tied down to a date, “that way I can have freedom to do whatever I want.” He felt that pang of guilt again for his hypocrisy.

“Fair enough.” You knew how much he liked to flirt, it boosted his ego. “Just don’t get beat up when you hit on the wrong girl. I won't be there to stop that fight, I wouldn’t want to ruin my hair and dress.”

He laughed, amused with your warning. “Please, doll. I know how to pick the right girls to flirt with. I’m not worried about getting beat up by their partners. They always fall for my charm.” He said, clearly confident with his ability to charm anyone, even those with jealous partners.

“Who falls for your charm? The girl or their partner?” You laugh.

He didn’t like your sarcastic response, “Oh ha ha. Very funny. Obviously, I meant the girls. But let’s be honest, there have been a few of their partners who have fallen for me as well. I’m just that irresistible, you know?”

“Actually…I do believe that. All hail king Mattheo.” You move your hands up and down in his direction.

“Can you two shut up?” Theodore blurted with his mouth full of food, “I’m trying to think here.”

You both stared at Theodore, then looked at each other one more time sharing a silent agreement. Mattheo smacked Theo’s back while you pulled on his hair. Theodore groaned in surprise. Before he could properly react, the two of you had bolted out of the great hall.

Mattheo and you made it down to the dungeons, having ran the whole way. You pointed at Mattheo to say the passcode, you were too out of breath.

He laughed, enjoying your flustered out-of-breath state and how you were leaning against a wall. Clearly not conditioned like he was. He was hardly winded, “Viper’s Den.” Mattheo opened the door for you, you followed him inside.

“Wooaahhh! What the hell does Teddy need help with? This looks amazing.” You looked around the heavily decorated room. You twirled around taking in the sight, there was no way this was the same common room.

Mattheo stared at your reaction with a smile, barely noticing the room. He had to peel his eyes away from you when you stopped twirling. “He outdid himself.”

He looked around nodding in approval, “Oh! Come over here!” He beckons you over to a corner of the room. He gestures over to a table that had a clear covering over it. It had an array of sweet-smelling treats. There were honey buns, chocolate cakes, berry tarts, and everything in between. It was like a little piece of sweet heaven. He began to peel back the covering when you slapped his hand.

“Stop it. Wait for tomorrow night.”

“You’re no fun. I just wanted a small nibble, we didn’t even get to have dessert at the great hall.”

You look around again, there was an identical table. “All that’s missing is the drinks…you know I heard another rumor that those Hufflepuffs want to help out too with some herbs. If you catch my drift.” You smile at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Maybe we can get high again! It’s been so long!” You laughed at the last time Mattheo and you partook in their drugs. You had a sleepover in Mattheo’s dorm for three days straight. Surviving on just water and sleep.

He nodded in agreement, clearly remembering the same thing. “Oh yeah, that was fun. I would love to have another sleepover like that again.” His grin got bigger as he reminisced. He thought about how you both slept on his floor together because the bed was too small and he kept falling off of it. He remembered you being so attached to him that night, being a needy mess. But he was all for it. He couldn’t wait to blow the smoke into each other’s mouths once again.

The door opened, snapping him out of the train of thought, it was Theodore. He looked annoyed but glad to see you both there. “Good. Here’s what I need you two to do.” He started to list things off. Mattheo groaned, but got to work, knowing the promise you both made to him.

You got out of the shower, it felt good. It was an intense session. You used your best soaps, exfoliators, you shaved, you slathered on a scented lotion that had a light shimmer to it. You went to town manicuring your nails, curling your hair, and doing your makeup. You would have normally been tired of all this work, but this event was special for you. It was a chance to actually dress up for once and pamper yourself.

You took your dress, carefully folding it over your arm. You took your heels in another hand, going out of your dorm and locking it. You headed the opposite direction of the hall towards Mattheo’s room.

Mattheo was in his dorm, getting ready for the party too. He was carefully putting on his tie in the mirror, making sure it was perfect. He looked himself over, admiring his reflection with a smirk. He heard a knock on the door, and he called out, “who is it?”

There were people starting to scurry around between dorms too, so it wasn’t out of place that you were standing outside of his. There was a small commotion downstairs as people made their way into the Slytherin common room meeting with their dates and friends.

“Matty, it's me. Open up, I'm here to fulfill my promise.” You couldn’t help but lightly laugh at the fact he wanted to make sure your dress was ‘appropriate’ enough.

He had been waiting for you to come by, “Oh, doll. You’re finally here, huh?” He made his way over to the door and opened it, revealing you there.

You push past Mattheo in order to enter his room. You didn’t bother waiting for permission to enter. You set your dress down on his bed, putting the heels on the floor.

Mattheo laughed, enjoying your eagerness to get ready for the party. He closed the door behind you, locking it to ensure privacy. “Someone’s in a hurry, aren’t we?” He teased watching you, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your dress.

“I mean not anymore no, I was actually taking my sweet time.”

He sensed your annoyance immediately, “what did that jackass do?” Mattheo went to stand right behind you, trying to mask his rising anger at the possibilities. He took a strand of your hair, admiring how soft and perfect the curl was. It bounced lightly in his hand.

You shrug. “Charlie messaged me saying that he’ll be here in like two hours-” You weren’t able to hide your disappointment, especially with Mattheo who could read you easily even without legilimency. “-even though the party is basically starting now.”

Mattheo’s smirk faded as you mentioned that, looking away from your curl in his hand he scoffs, “two hours? Seriously? Isn’t he supposed to be your date? What’s his stupid excuse?”

“Beats me.” You turn around to face your best friend, you couldn’t help but let a smile erupt on your face as you really noticed him. “Mattheo..!” You whistled, “you clean up real good.”

Just that easily, his smirk returned, clearly enjoying your compliment. “Yeah, I know. I look damn good, don’t I?” He said just as cockily. He made a show of straightening out his tie and smoothing his hair down. He had already been pleased with how he looked, but it felt even better hearing it come out of your mouth.

He went with an all black outfit, even his shoes were surprisingly clean and polished. You reached out to him, putting your hands on his shoulders. You inspected his front, flipped him, checked out his back. His toned muscles were peeking out from under his dress shirt. It was amazing, his wide shoulders and small waist. His biceps were being contained just right. You smoothed the fabric down. You turned him to face you again, feeling proud.

Mattheo had let you inspect him without a peep. Enjoying the way you ran your hands over his body, admiring every single detail of his outfit. He tried to act aloof and nonchalant, but he couldn’t help feeling flattered by your attention. “Having fun, are you? Admiring my good looks, princess?”

“Actually yes. I have nothing snarky to say.” You laugh, “okay okay maybe one-” Mattheo raised his eyebrows for you to continue, “-are you sure they didn’t have maybe a half size larger for your dress shirt? Or did you purposely go smaller? You look massive..”

“Oh, shut up. This shirt looks perfect on me.” He wasn’t actually offended, he enjoyed the banter with you “…But yeah I did go for a smaller size. Clearly it was a good decision if I have your attention.”

“Yeah yeah whatever.” You look at his hair, he had slicked it back, but you could still see the ends of his hair wanting to curl back. You loved his curly hair. He looked so…so hot right now. Thank God, you were starting to take those private occlumency lessons with Professor Snape so this idiot couldn’t read your mind. Plus you made him promise you to not enter your mind after a mishap two years ago.

He smiled as you noticed your gaze lingering on his hair. He ran a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up, causing some of the curls to revert back to their usual state. “What, you'd rather have my hair like this, huh?”

“God, fuck yes. Mattheo thank you for doing that. It looks much more natural on you. The pomade does help define them much more though.” You smile up at him too, “anyway!” You turn back around to face your dress, but in reality you started to feel yourself blush like you were running a fever.

Mattheo noticed the hint of a blush appearing on your cheeks just before you turned away from him, “are you blushing? Is someone a little flustered, hmmm?” He teased.

You choose to ignore his comment. “I’m going to use your bathroom, I don’t trust you enough to just close your eyes for this.” You take your dress and heels into his bathroom and close the door quickly.

With a pout, “Hey, I'm totally trustworthy! I swear I won't peek-” He began to say before hearing you lock the door. There was no point in protesting.

You undressed, leaving your pajamas on his bathroom floor. You slipped quickly yet carefully into the black satin dress. You had forgotten that it was a corset back and would need help clasping it together. You held the back together with your hands, admiring the vision. It was a long gown, with a slit running up your right leg and stopping just below your hip. You put on a matching black set of heels. You thought you looked very pretty, a rarity on your behalf. You made sure your hair and makeup were still fine. You went to crack open the bathroom door, taking a deep breath, still holding the back of the dress together with a single hand so it wouldn’t slip off. “Matty?”

Mattheo was already waiting patiently outside of the bathroom door, drumming his fingers on the wall as he tried to ignore the image of you undressing just on the other side. He perked up when he heard your voice calling out from behind the door, a smile reappeared on his face. “Yes, doll? You done yet?” He was unable to keep the eagerness out of his tone, so he went and put his hand around the door, trying to make you open it wider so he could see all of you.

“I actually need your help…” You let him open the door, “I forgot this was a corset, and not a zip up. I need you to clap me in.” You laugh, “I mean clasp.”

He laughed at your little Freudian slip, he was amused at how you got those two words confused. He wondered what you really wanted, but he also pushed that thought back too. He raised a single eyebrow as he took in the sight of you. His eyes widening in surprise at how stunning you looked. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, and the split on the right leg gave him a glimpse of your smooth skin. “Damn princess, you look…beautiful.” He said this, his voice growing a bit huskier as he approached you. He pulled you by your waist so you would come out of the bathroom and into the well lit bedroom instead.

“Thank you…I think so too..” You blushed as he complimented you, letting him pull you closer to him. Mattheo turned you over so your back was turned toward him.

“I’m very happy you think the same.” He gently gathered your hair, pulling it to one side so it was out of the way.

“It might be a little tricky.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure I can handle it.” He moved your hands out of the way, so the dress split open, stopping at the small of your back. You held the front of the dress up to keep it from falling. Mattheo nearly started to salivate at the sight of your bare back to him, how it exposed more of your skin to him, he was loving the view. He hated having to fasten you into the dress instead of just slipping it off and skipping the party. Mattheo mentally slapped himself, to stop thinking about you in that way.

“Everything okay?” You say, feeling a bit self conscious as Mattheo paused for a moment. He cleared his throat. He started at the bottom of the corset, fastening you in carefully. His hands graze your bare skin occasionally, sending shivers down your spine. He made sure to not pull too tightly, asking you throughout the process if it was enough. “I don’t know if I should be mad or grateful that you know how to do this.” You close your eyes at the feeling of him working on you.

“Why would you be mad? I have a lot of hidden talents.” He finished up the corset, taking a step back to admire his handiwork, “there we go. Looks good and perfect…and secure.”

You let your hands fall to the side, trusting that it wouldn’t fall down now. You gave a small twirl to Mattheo, ending it with a curtsey. He kept a smile at you, his eyes turning a shade darker. You look at the mirror admiring how you looked now that you were finished. You readjusted your hair. “So I'm assuming that this dress is appropriate enough for this event…for you?”

“Appropriate? You look amazing. You’re going to put every other witch at this party to shame. You look like a true goddamn princess, one that I want all to myself.”

You felt your heart skip at his words, it felt different. It was all you could ever ask from him, God if only he liked me back, you thought. If only he wasn’t just saying this because he was your best friend. You go to wrap your arms around him, giving him a tender hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you tighter into him. Mattheo closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. Your sweet scent was driving him crazy.

He buried his face in your hair, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within him. There was no denying how much he cared for you, but he was still struggling to acknowledge his true feelings for you.

You gave his biceps a gentle squeeze, pulling back, “shall we head down?” You smile at him.

He nods in agreement, returning your smile with a smirk of his own. “It’ll be an honor…and respecfully, fuck your ‘date’ for not being here, but also I wouldn’t want it any other way. To just walk you down, is an honor in itself.” Mattheo held his arm for you to take, offering to escort you to the party downstairs.

You roll your eyes, but you don't want to admit that you agree with him. You started to have your own doubts about Charlie, maybe it was kind of stupid to think…you could..fall in love with someone else. You had to at least give him a chance..right? You ended up taking Mattheo’s arm, linking elbows, while you placed your other hand on his forearm.

Mattheo could sense your uncertainty in your date, he wanted to just flat out tell you again that he wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t wait to rub it in your face, but deep down he didn’t want to see you hurt. He covered your hand with his own. He was cherishing this moment, feeling a small sense of triumph.

The party was already in full motion by the time you went down the stairs. People were going around laughing and dancing. The refreshment table was already nearly half way empty. You had to wonder if people showed up earlier than expected out of the excitement. You felt people stare at you and Mattheo. His grip on you was gentle, yet firm and possessive. Mattheo himself could feel, and see the envy, coming off the people as their eyes roamed over you. You could say the same thing, but you thought the looks were because you had Mattheo’s attention, and he was dressed up as well.

You both walked over to the drink table, each of you grabbing a glass of whatever was closest, “cheers to a good evening.”

He clicked his drink to yours, “Cheers.” He tilted the drink into his mouth, still scanning the party as he did so. He was mentally taking note of those eyes that lingered on you for too long.

“Mattheo, I know this is supposed to be a party…but can I ask a lesson from you right now?” You ask, setting down your empty glass. Already feeling the warmth from the drink start to take effect.

With an eyebrow raised again, intrigued by the idea of teaching you something in this setting, “A lesson, huh? Sure what do you want to learn?”

“Can you teach me how to dance?” You blush, “I know just how ridiculous that sounds but I usually just sit around and smoke at parties…so this feels new.”

He laughed, but not in a mean way. He found it surprisingly cute how you requested this, especially considering your usual party habits. “It’s not ridiculous at all. I'd be happy to teach you.” He held out his hand to you, gesturing for you to take it. “May I have this dance?”

You took his hand, “I like this version of Mattheo, so elegant and charming.” You cooed playfully, following him onto the dance floor.

“Careful doll, compliment me too much and I might start to think you actually like me. Romantically.” He teased, unable to resist throwing a playful jab.

You couldn’t say anything to that, you only blushed further, if only you knew how much I really liked you Mattheo, so ironic of you to say that.

Mattheo was loving the effect his words had on you, “What, lost for words now? Something tells me there’s no comeback for that one?”

“So…so what’s the first step?” You change the subject back to the lesson on dancing.

He shook his head, but understood you wanting to change the subject. “First step to the classic ballroom position - holding each other firmly.” He adjusted his grip on your waist and took your hand in his, positioning you in the correct dance position.

“Okay, easy enough.” You looked into his eyes, one hand on his shoulder. “I swear I was probably born with eight left feet, I’ve never thought to dance.”

He chuckled again, finding your honesty endearing. “Don’t worry, princess. You’re in good hands. Just follow my lead, okay? We’ll start with the basic steps. First, step backward with your left foot as I step forward with my right.” He gently guided your movements, slowly moving in unison with him.

You couldn’t help but look down at your feet as he began to show you more steps. You started to get the hang of it, only after a couple accidental steps on his own feet. Though you didn’t apologize so much since he was finding it so fun to tease you earlier.

Mattheo was just so stricken with you, he would only chuckle and sigh as each time you stepped on him, finding your clumsiness adorable. “Thanks for ruining my shoes.”

“I’m doing it on purpose at this point.” You look back at him smiling. He feigned a look of shock, pretending to be offended.

“Ah so you’re doing it intentionally? That’s playing dirty, doll.” He spun you around before bringing you close to him. You rested your head on his chest, you could finally reach it comfortably with the height the heels gave you. You closed your eyes, listening to his heart.

His breath hitched, he liked the feeling of you being so close to him. The way your body fit against his perfectly. He dug his fingers deeper into your sides as he dipped you backwards, using it as an excuse to get even closer. His face was dangerously close to yours.

You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched Mattheo. You noticed a slight change in him, something only you could notice. He had gotten…nervous. He pulled you both up right again. When he did this you noticed Charlie standing behind him, clearing his throat. “Sorry for being late… My roommate had an urgent matter. I came as fast as I could.”

Mattheo’s body tensed as he heard Charlie’s voice behind him. His grip on you tightened, protectiveness seeping into his touch as he reluctantly pulled you back away from him. He hated that he actually ended up showing, having to interrupt the moment he was sharing with you. He plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned to face Charlie, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ah Charlie. Finally decided to grace us with your presence huh?”

Your date gave Mattheo a confused look, he didn’t seem to really be intimidated by him. Which made sense, if he even had made the effort to ask you out on this date knowing full well he would have to face The Mattheo Riddle. A fact other guys were immediately put off by. “Yeaahh..” He scratched the back of his head, “um thanks for keeping Y/N company for me.” He let out a small laugh, offering his arm to you just as Mattheo had done.

Mattheo didn’t bother hiding his annoyance at Charlie’s casual demeanor, especially as he offered his arm to you. His jaw clenched visibly, fighting the urge to snap at him. He kept his composure the best he could, maintaining the strained yet police facade. “No problem.” He said tersely, his gaze flickering between you and Charlie with a hint of possessiveness.

Almost reluctantly you go to take Charlie’s arm. He smiled down at you, he brought forward his other arm that was hidden behind his back this whole time. “I brought this for you…” it was a single rose.

You smiled while taking it, “thank you, this is beautiful.” You look back at Mattheo, “I’ll talk to you later? Enjoy yourself Matty.”

Oh how Mattheo wanted to bash at Charlie’s face with his fists. He watched as you thanked him for the rose, his eyes darkened with jealousy and frustration, that wasn’t even your favorite flower, not even in your favorite color. How could some jackass not bother to learn what your favorite flower and color was. He wanted to tear you away from him.

“Yeah, enjoy yourself man. Thanks again for warming her up for me.” Charlie said to Mattheo, pulling you away from where you were originally dancing. You let him guide you away, but couldn’t help looking back, seeing that Mattheo was already facing his back towards you both. You looked down as his fists were clenched, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t help but feel guilt.

Charlie was just like a prince, he was actually really sweet and thoughtful past the lateness. Plus, his excuse made you think that he was loyal to those he cares about, to tend to their needs first than his. You both had danced to a couple of songs (thanks to Mattheo for teaching you). It was fun. Whenever Charlie spun you around or hugged you close to him, you couldn't help but look around for Mattheo subtly. You saw him enjoying himself, he was talking to a couple of girls.

In reality Mattheo’s eyes scanned the room for you as well, he would only pretend to focus on the conversation he was having with the girls. Barely making an effort, and yet they were in hysterics laughing. It kind of annoyed him how easy it was. His focus kept drifting to your location. He hated seeing you with Charlie. He hated seeing you in someone else’s arms, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not yet, at least.

Between songs Charlie would grab a drink, and it was starting to really add up. He began to get sloppy and step on your toes. He’d apologize but do it immediately after. You stopped dancing, telling him that you both should just sit down for a while. So you guided him to an empty couch.

Mattheo watched as you and Charlie made your way to the couch, a mix of relief and frustration coursing through his veins. Finally there was some distance between the two of you, but he didn’t like that your date was making a fool of himself as he kept drinking. He was leaning against a wall, keeping a watchful eye on you from afar. The girls by his side kept rambling and rambling and he was only paying attention to you, scoffing at the state Charlie was in. It was getting ridiculous. The girls rolled their eyes at Mattheo, hating that he wasn’t engaging in the conversation so they left him.

As the night went on, you began to like Charlie less and less. The more his drinking caught up to him, the more he just seemed like an idiot. It was quite the change. The first half of the night with him was great, he was able to hold a solid conversation just like normal. He would ask about you, wanting to learn about what you were into, but now he kept going in circles. He would only talk about himself, it got boring. Fast.

Charlie’s drunken behavior was becoming more apparent, he was slurring his words and regressing into mindless rambling. Mattheo clenched his jaw as he saw you grow more disinterested in your date by the second. It was clear you were bored and fed up. He was tempted to intervene, to find a way to end this date early. But he also wanted to teach you a lesson. That you were supposed to really be with him, and not some dumbass, especially one who couldn’t handle his alcohol.

You were getting embarrassed, people must have thought it was weird that Mattheo and you arrived at the party together and now you were with other people. You knew this by the curious glances they were making at me. They probably couldn’t help but wonder about the dynamic we held.

A pretty blonde girl went up to Mattheo, blocking his view of you, “Hi..I couldn't help but notice you almost…sulking in this corner…can I ask for a dance?”

He gave her a lazy smirk, looking her up and down before responding, “sure, why not.” He pushed himself off the wall, downing the rest of his drink before offering his hand to the girl.

You continued to sit there bored, your chin resting on your hand. The major downside to people not wearing uniforms was that you didn’t know who belonged to which house. You wished you could just dump him with someone that would know him.

As you look around you notice Mattheo dancing with a girl, it wasn’t the type of dance he had taught you. It was the kind that would be best suited for our regular ‘trashy’ parties.

Mattheo’s smirk wavered slightly as the girl pressed herself up against him, grinding against his lap shamelessly as they danced to the music. He chuckled quietly to himself, amused by her boldness. He ran his hands down her sides, fingers lingering on her hips. His gaze wandered over to you, his expression faltering slightly when he noticed how bored and annoyed you appeared to be.

You notice Mattheo make eye contact with you, you give him a friendly wave, watching him handle the girl. You turn away before scowling to yourself.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?” Charlie breathed out, his hot breath bitter from the alcohol. He leaned over the couch to put his face between your neck. You shrugged him away uncomfortably. This didn’t stop him though, he gently put a hand on your jaw, making you look at him “pay attention.” It was major deja vu, but with the wrong person. Very wrong person. Charlie leaned in to kiss you, but you quickly stood up leaving the rose he gave you on the seat. He kept leaning to the point he just ended up face planting onto the couch seat.

As Mattheo danced with the girl, he happened to look back up at you, catching it in time when Charlie tried to kiss you. His fingers dug into the girl’s hips as he felt anger and jealousy. The girl let out a small moan. “Ouch Mattheo. Give me a warning next time.”

The drunken fool didn’t deserve to touch you like that. He stopped letting the girl grind on him for a moment, but then he noticed how you got up not letting him finish that kiss. He laughed to himself. The girl looked behind at him confused, but she turned around to wrap her arms around his neck, rubbing her breasts against his chest now. “Unless you want to take this upstairs?” she said, trying to get his attention again.

You walked over to the refreshment table, not caring one bit about leaving Charlie behind after that stunt. He could fend for himself. Thank God there was still some weed left, thank you Hufflepuffs! You thought, kissing the air. You set down a paper, neatly tucking in the weed, carefully licking it shut. As you did, you watched Mattheo. At least one of us was having a good night.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.” Mattheo said to the girl, he didn’t care for her advances at all, but he just wanted to play along. He responded with a sly smile as she rubbed against him.

You looked back down at the fairly fat joint you made, you wanted to light it but you felt guilty. You wanted to get high with your best friend. It was so fun last time. You tucked the joint behind your ear, preparing another one for him. We would have to get high on a different day. With the two joints, you moved them into your corset, just on the side of your boob as you had no pocket or bag with you. You looked toward the drink table, considering but being put off with how it made Charlie. You still grabbed a drink just to hold onto and not look awkward.

Mattheo caught you putting what seemed like joints into your dress, he smiled knowing you were probably thinking about him. His attention was divided between the blonde girl and you. He smirked to himself, seeing your disapproving face when you went to grab a drink. He found your sudden dislike of alcohol funny.

You stood there with your drink, not taking a sip out of it. You just bumped your head to the music. You noticed Theodore and made your way over to him. “Hey Teddy, I’ve got to give it to you. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. You did great.”

He smiled at your compliment, he took a sip of his own drink before responding and gesturing around the room that was filled with students dancing, chatting, drinking, and just having fun. “I know, thanks for your help with finishing it. I’m glad everyone is enjoying themselves…” He hesitated a moment, “but you seem a bit…bored. Where’s your date?”

You just pointed behind yourself with your thumb, “ick.”

Theo laughed at your bluntness, looking over at Charlie’s direction. He was still sitting alone on the couch, face in his hands, “dumbass can’t handle his alcohol? And Mattheo?” You pointed in the other direction. He let his smile falter a bit, knowing his friend was just using the girl. “Ah~ so can I have a dance with you then? You look amazing.” He looked you up and down.

You nod, putting your glass down, and taking a step close to Theo. You put your hands on Theo’s shoulders, as he put his on your waist. You swayed to the music as it changed to a slower song. You put your head on his chest as you did with Mattheo. You let out a small sigh that was concealed with the music, you were definitely going to get an earful later.

You both danced to a couple of songs, before you pulled away from him, “thank you for dancing with me. I think I'm going to retire for the night. My feet are killing me…though I liked dressing up, I’d rather stick to sneakers.” You laugh straightening out Theo’s tie and collar.

“Of course, any time. I’m sorry your date kind of ruined your night, but you really do look gorgeous tonight, cara mia.” He looked down at you, his tone sincere.

Giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “goodnight Teddy.” You made your way up the stairs back to the dormitories. As you go up, you look down at the party once more. Charlie was just now sleeping on the couch, you rolled your eyes. Mattheo had his face buried in the blonde girl’s hair. You sighed. Mattheo’s dorm room was closer to the stairs so you made your way over to his room, your pajamas were still in there. With your luck he had not locked his door.

Mattheo kept his eyes trained on you as you went into his room, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought. It sent a thrill through him. His mind started to wonder, why you decided to go in there instead of your room.

When you stepped in his room, you breathed in deeply. It had such an intoxicating scent. Sometimes you went nose blind to Mattheo’s smell, but being in his room where it was the most concentrated almost made your brain fuzz. You went into his bathroom, looked at yourself in the mirror, man what a wasted outfit.

He couldn’t wait any longer, the thought of you inside there by yourself was driving him crazy. He pushed the blonde girl to the side, mumbling an excuse about needing some air. He made his way towards the stairs, shoving people to the side, determined to get to his room as quickly as possible. As he entered inside, he noticed the bathroom light on, the door cracked open.

Bending down to pick up your pajamas that you left on the floor. You debated on changing out of your dress, but knew just how long it would take if you were to do it by yourself. You would need to wait for Mattheo, but you also didn’t want to be in his room if he decided to bring that girl up here for the night. You notice one of his shirts on the floor too, you picked it up. You wanted to smell it. Fucking weirdo, don’t do it. Do it. Don’t do -

Mattheo pushed open the door quietly, peering inside to see you holding one of his shirts in your hands. You jumped at the sound, “oh my god, shit!” You dropped the shirt back on the floor along with your pajamas.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk, “you didn’t expect me to find you in my dorm, love?” He laughed sarcastically.

You peaked behind him trying to see if he brought the girl over after all, “no I didn’t..I thought you were still going to be downstairs. I was just getting my pajamas and shoes.”

The smirk on his face widened as he noticed you peering behind him, he laughed and shook his head, “I got tired of dancing with her. She’s a little too clingy for my taste.”

“Yeah? Well at least you didn’t have to endure a drunk.” You go to pick your pajamas again. You make your way to his desk to take off your heels. His eyes looked at your legs. There was a pause between you two. “Go on Mattheo, rub it in my face.” You huffed, rubbing your feet, closing your eyes, “let’s get it over with.”

“Oh, princess, if you insist.” He moved closer to you, standing behind you. He leaned down, bringing his face close to your ear, his breath against your neck. “I told you so.”

You kept your eyes shut, clenching them a bit hard. “T-that’s all you got?”

He brushed a strand of your hair from your face, his fingers tracing down the side of your neck. His tone was low and husky as he spoke into your ear “Oh, you know I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Want me to teach you another lesson?”

“What do you mean?” You looked up at him, your heart took a leap.

It was now or never for Mattheo. “For not listening to me.” He firmly grabbed your wrist making you stand up from the seat. He instead took you place, he sat down looking at you expectantly as you were now standing by his side.

“Mattheo…what do you mean?” You almost stammered on your own words.

“It’s a yes or a no, darling. Do you want me to teach you a lesson? I am your tutor after all, right?”

“-and best friend.” You looked at him, still very much confused, but you felt a sense of excitement of the unknown. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbow carefully as you thought it over. Why is he being so…so.. “Yes.” You blurted.

“Good girl, this is the lesson I’m going to teach you. It’s going to be about listening to me, because I know what’s right for you. The first part is having you admit to yourself that I was right and you were wrong. I don't want to have to tell you. You tell me instead…go on.” In a quick motion he brought you down and bent over on his lap. You didn’t have enough time to react to what was going on, but your heart was starting to race. You could feel one of his hands rubbing your ass just above the thin satin fabric of your dress. You turned to look back at him, and he was staring at your ass, but had to quickly meet your eye. “Go on.” He gave your left cheek a rough squeeze.

You closed your eyes, before opening them and answering. “Mattheo you were right. I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” He said, squeezing your ass again, then tracing a single finger along the slit of your dress. Touching the smooth skin of your thigh.

“About my date…I was dumb to think it was going to be an amazing date. But it wasn’t.” You sighed both at the turn of events with Charlie, and because of Mattheo’s touch.

“And I warned you, didn't I? That you could be with someone so much better than him, didn’t I?” He nearly spat out the last words in emphasis. Squeezing your ass harder this time, his nails are able to dig into you through the dress.

You don’t respond, you’re too focused on his touch. How he was handling you. Your thought process was going in about a thousand different directions right now. When Mattheo didn’t hear you he swiftly pulled your dress over to the side by the slit, exposing your ass to him. You stopped breathing. He sucked in air through his teeth at the sight of your perky round ass in a black little lacey thong. He gave you a sharp smack on your ass, you yelped not expecting it. “I asked you a question, darling.”

“I uh…Yes. Yes Mattheo, you warned me. You did warn me that I could be with someone better.” You whined as he smoothed out the area he just hit.

“Have I ever done wrong by you?” SMACK! He hit the other cheek this time. You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop you from crying out loud, but he quickly pushed it away from your face so you could answer him.

“No..y-you haven’t.”

“Then why didn't you listen to me?” SMACK! You cried out again as he hit you. Again he rubbed it out.

“I- I…don’t-” you began to say - SMACK!

“Does he know the reasons why you cry?”

You opened your mouth to try and respond but was spanked again.

“Does he know what makes you laugh?”

SMACK!

Your legs were starting to tremble due to the mix of pain…pleasure…the excitement of it all. It was so confusing. Well it wasn’t confusing to see Mattheo so angry, but towards you it was new. It was turning you on, and you knew he was enjoying himself too. Not only because he did enjoy inflicting pain onto others, but because you were starting to feel him get hard from underneath you. His dick was poking up into your stomach. You were sure the pressure of your weight on him was sending him over the edge. You looked back at him, biting your lip. He just looked down at you, quite darkly. His hand was removed from your ass, leaving it red and hot. Surely there was bruising and welts from his work.

Mattheo’s lips twisted upwards in a smile. Then pulled your hair back, twisting it around his hand. This causes you to strain your head backwards. He bent down to whisper against your neck, kissing it. “I can promise you this, no one is ever going to make you feel the same as I will. I’ll do anything for you.”

You nod, your eyes going wide at his confession. You were about to respond to him but once again you were silenced when he let go of your hair, and pushed your head back down. His hands went over your sore ass and and he hooked his fingers around your panties, shimmying them down your thighs and off of you. He stealthily stored them in his pants pocket.

You felt a cool breeze as you were exposed to him now. Especially because of your growing wetness, which Mattheo could now see. “M-Mattheo… can I please speak now?”

He shook his head, “Not now, darling.” He leaned to the side, putting one hand on each ass cheek. His gaze quickly looked over at you, your head was still hanging down. He returned to what he was doing, and he slowly spread your ass, showing himself your pussy. He groaned at the sight. He smirked, liking that you were enjoying this treatment. “Fuck, baby. It’s so pretty.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but at his words you arched your back to further show yourself to him. You felt your face get hot, this was Mattheo. Once a stranger. Once your tutor. Now your best friend. The guy you’ve developed a massive crush on. He chuckled at your action, he was so tempted to break the promise you had in regards to him trying to read your mind. He wanted to know what you were thinking of all this.

“I promise you won’t need him after this, ever. You will never think about him ever again. Only me.”

Mattheo crept his fingers closer to your heat, so he could spread it further. You scrunch your eyes closed as he was getting closer to where you wanted to be touched. God you wanted to be handled like this by Mattheo for so long. So many nights you had spent alone in your dorm touching yourself and imagining it was him. You wondered if he ever had those moments (he definitely did). You were snapped out of that thought when you heard him spit onto your cunt, you felt it tickle into your hole.

“Go on, say my name, Doll. I want to hear my name coming from your lips.”

“Mattheo..” You breathed out shakily. “Shit mattheo… please touch me.”

SMACK! That was all your plea earned you, another slap on your ass, “You don't get to order me around…but alas I was going to regardless. You’re so impatient.” He ran two fingers along your wet folds, smirking at the idea that his spit was just sitting inside of you currently.

“M-m-matty.” you moaned out. He was a sucker whenever you called him that, so he dipped a finger into your core. You moaned out again, especially when he began to probe around feeling your gummy ribbed walls. You reflexively clenched around his finger. He breathed out, imagining how it must feel around his cock. He curled his finger inside of you. “More-more please.”

He sighed, with his free hand he grabbed your hair in his fist, “stop telling me what to do.” Once again, despite his words he still gave you what you wanted. He pulled out his first finger, just to shove two back in afterwards.

“Oh my god.” You moaned out. He smiled, moving his fingers deeper inside you. Your precious little cunt was making unholy sounds from how wet you were. Mattheo loved the sound of it, he could tell that his dick was just leaking with precum. He didn’t know how much longer he could take.

Mattheo was just being relentless with his pace, fingering you. He tried holding you down by leaning on you with his body weight, but you were wiggling too much from pleasure. You felt like you were about to cum. But he would sometimes take his fingers out just to spread the wetness around your lips, massaging it in before continuing. It was driving you absolutely nuts. Eventually you were able to reach your high, cumming down his fingers. He sighed, just as satisfied with the sight of your slightly creamy cum that was now going down your thighs when he pulled his fingers out of you.

“Princess…I really like you, you know? Like really like you. I’m not just saying this…for what we’re doing.. And sorry for a lack of better words..I can’t- I can’t think straight right now. I just want to bury my dick deep inside your pussy.”

“Don’t worry…Matty..” You tried to catch your breath, trying to bring your heart rate down. Mattheo helped you turn around and sit on his lap, making you straddle him. You looked down to his lips, smashing them with yours. The kiss was hungry. Each of you kept biting the other. Mattheo with his clean hand turned your head to the side, kissing and biting down your neck. “I like you too…I have for a while now.. I just..I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Mattheo looked up at you, as you admitted back to him. He was relieved you felt the same. He smiled sweetly at you, your usual best friend peeking out for a moment. He hated that he kept you waiting for so long as he sorted through his own feelings for you, and it only took some jackass taking you out as a date for him to learn this. Just as you had been, he was ripped out of that thought when he saw that you took the hand that he used to finger you, putting the two fingers inside your mouth. Cleaning yourself from him.

“Oh fuck, darling.” his jaw hung low, groaning with the sight. His eyes glued to where the two digits were disappearing between your lips. He took another sharp inhale, unable to tear his gaze away. He pulled them out of your mouth, leaving a trail of spit to fall onto your chin. He tried to regain his authority, he cleared his throat, “W-What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Can I please suck your cock?” You smiled sweetly at him again, batting your eyelashes.

He breathed out, his voice low and almost hoarse as he spoke, his words coming out in short bursts “n-no princess. I’m trying to teach you a lesson. You’re supposed to be good and pay attention to what I'm doing.”

“Okay Mattheo…sure.” You agreed to play along. He put his arms around you, lifting you up easily. He got out of the seat and walked over to his bed, setting you down in front of it. He turned you around so your back was towards him and he pushed you down onto the bed. Keeping your head flat against his comforter with one hand. You inhaled, taking in his scent from his sheets. You let out a small moan.

He knew what you were doing, “for your information…I knew you wanted to sniff my dirty shirt that I left in my bathroom. You freak.” He brought up how he caught you when he returned back to his dorm after the party. He couldn’t resist a little banter despite how heated things were getting between you and him.

“Shaddup!” You said muffled from your head being pinned down. You felt him move your dress to the side, tucking it under your hip, making sure it was out of the way, “do you want to help me remove this…?”

He smiled at you again, shaking his head, “no..I actually want to fuck you in your dress. You look too beautiful in it to let it go to waste. A real princess.” You couldn't help but love the sweetness in that. He momentarily let go of your head, so he could unzip his pants and pull it down. He also took off his dress shirt, exposing his toned torso and abs. He used his knee to open your legs apart further, he pumped himself a few times, needing to feel some relief already. “Spread yourself to me.” He commanded bringing your hands to your ass. You did what you were told, you arched your back again, spreading your pussy for him. You felt Mattheo rub the tip of his dick around your wet entrance, then rubbing it around your clit before using his full length to use your wetness to lubricate himself.

You wanted to turn around to look at it, you wanted to see if you could take him. You always wondered what he was packing. You wanted to know how long it was, how thick it was, what color it was, how it would feel inside of you. You were feeling a slight headache, then the realization hit you. You were going to stand straight up when he pushed you down again, “Mattheo!”

“Okay okay..i’m sorry. I know I promised, but I wanted to know what you were thinking.” He said not so guilty. “Buuuuut know that I know.. I want you to see me fucking you. I need to see your pretty face-” He turned you around, lifting you so that you were now sitting forward, facing him on the side of the bed. He was smirking when he brought over a pillow to put just underneath the small of your back. He pulled you by your waist so your ass was barely hanging out of the edge, it was a perfect height to his hips, “-I need to see how you look when you take me.” He pulled your legs so that they were resting on his shoulders.

Fuuuuck. You thought as you looked down at his twitching dick. He was so big and girthy. His cock slightly tanner than the rest of him, his tip as pink as his lips. God the lips you stared at all the time, day to day. You felt nervous, he would definitely be the biggest you’ve taken. You felt a ringing in your ear again. You rolled your eyes, knowing he was reading your mind again.

“I know you can take me, sweetheart. You’ve done everything I’ve taught you so well.” Mattheo stroked the side of your face gently, with warm eyes. You couldn’t fathom the duality of this man. He was doing this while his other hand was adjusting his dick to your entrance, carefully dipping the tip into you.

You looked down away from his face to watch him enter you. “Please take it slow…I’m-”

“There’s no reason to be scared, of course I will take it slow.” He said this, but hated it. He just wanted to fuck you senseless. He looked away from your face, looking at your pussy. He tried pushing himself in slowly, but you were not letting him in. “You're so tense, please relax for me.” He moved over to suck on his thumb before moving it to your clit and rubbing slow lazy circles, earning him a moan from you. He smiled, continuing his work. He wasn’t even trying his best and you were already shaking again.

“Matty… I think..I think-”

“Oh no you’re not.” He stopped just as you were about to come to your next high. “Next time you cum, it’ll have to be on my dick.”

You whined and wiggled against him. He took this opportunity and really pushed himself, leaning down into you. You held him by his shoulders, biting him on his bicep. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer into you. All you felt was pain at first, and he wasn’t even moving yet too. You said a silent prayer to yourself.

“Shit. You’re so tight. When was the last time you were fucked…? Actually please don’t tell me I don't want to think about another person doing this to you.” He said one hand on your waist, the other on your hip, pulling you closer so he could really be balls deep into you. He tried not to get angry at the thought. “It feels so good, damn. So warm. Baby, can I start moving?”

You felt so full. So very full with him all the way inside you. You felt his cock twitch impatiently just as you had been earlier, maybe more. You felt bad for Mattheo, you also wanted him to feel good, but it was almost unbearable. You nod, “you can Matty.”

His eyes snapped up at yours. He didn’t like your uncertainty, but he really needed to feel relief. He almost felt sorry for you, but he was way too horny to fully care and to just pull out to make you suck him off. “I’m sorry Princess…I’ve been wanting and needing you like this so fucking bad.” He began to pull his hips back little by little, going in and out of you. He sighed, moving your legs back up on his shoulders, he kissed your leg.

“No, dont app-” You gasped when he slapped his hips against you, “-ologize. I-I want to make you feel good too. I want you to use me…” He smiled at your words, despite your not so hidden worries. You were a fool for him, and he loved it. He loved it because he was a fool for you too.

While you loved watching him fuck you, loved hearing his grunts and sighs. It was still so much for you. You turn your face away from him, biting on your finger. The other hand, covering your face. When you were just focusing on just the physical, not the visual it helped relax you. The pain began to disappear, especially once you started to get used to his size and the pace. Mattheo was definitely stretching you out. You whimper at the thought, at the pleasure that was starting to hit you like a pulsing wave.

“W-why are you hiding your face?” He grunts, slowing his movement, “Don’t hide it, I want to see your expression.” He pulls your hand away from you. His eyes widened when he saw your cheeks were stained by your tears. He completely stops, midway pulling out. “Princess, are you alright? Am I hurting you?! Oh my god you should have told me if I was-”

“No please- please don't stop. It just feels that good.” You reassure him by pulling yourself forward so that his cock would reenter you. You went back to biting your finger to hold back your cry.

Mattheo smiles at you, a sense of relief rushing through him. His smile turns into a smug look. “You’re still so pretty when you cry. You scared me.” He leaned back down, licking the tears off your cheeks, not minding the salty taste one bit. He moved to suck on your neck, he pulled your other hand down that you were biting on. “You sound so beautiful too, especially when your cries are just for me. Don't hold them back. I want to hear how you feel about me, how I'm making you feel..”

“Matty, please just keep fucking me.” You moan out, moving your hips against him.

“As you wish, just don't tell me off later if you can’t walk. You asked for this.” His smirk and cockiness returned. He pulled your legs forward so that they were being pressed up against your chest, really exposing your pussy to him. He didn’t hold back anymore.

“Yes mattheo, I’ll tell you again that you were right. That you’re always right. I will always listen to you.” You moan out, knowing he loves the sense of control. You arched your back off the bed, so he would keep hitting your sweet spot directly. You felt your eyes lul back. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch him slamming his dick into your sweet sopping wet cunt. Each time he pulled out of you, his own member glistened.

“That’s my fucking girl. You’re taking me so well.” He spread your legs away from your chest so he could lean back into you once more, he kissed your forehead. “Oh this - s is this is so frea k…freaking ba-bad” He began to get sloppy with his movements. He wrapped both of his hands around your throat, to choke you and also to steady himself.

“You’re cock feels so good inside me Matty, so good. It feels so euphoric, it’s so filling.” You choked out through his grip around your neck. You saw him look down at your pussy again. He let go one hand and pressed down just under your belly button. “Fucking shit Ma-Mah-Mattheo.”

When he did this, he saw the way your own pussy was gripping onto him, he smiled at the sight. “You’re being so greedy now aren’t you? You just can't enough huh? You like me treating you like this, you’re so dirty.”

You keep moaning his name, not being about to think about anything but how he was fucking you so well. Just as you had always imagined and wanted. You were just so focused on the pressure he was creating in your belly, the all too familiar twisting and knotting as you felt getting closer.

“Shiiiit~ your pussy is suffocating my dick darlin’. Are you about to come around me? Am I making you feel that amazing? Please don't hold back now, I'm all for it.” He moved his hand back to paying attention to your clit, but he paused before continuing his motion much more slowly. “Are..are you on any birth control?”

“What?” You were kind of dumbfounded, he asks this now? He just stares back expectantly. “Yeah I am..” You kind of gave him an attitude because he was denying your next orgasm with this sudden questioning.

He squinted a bit, “why?”

“Matt- what? Just what? My periods hurt like hell and this is what helps me dur-”

“Can I creampie you then?” He nonchalantly says interrupting you, returning his attention back to your clit, smiling.

You throw your head back, you were slowly but surely returning to the state you were in before he suddenly stopped.

“I asked you a question… Please don't make me ask again..” He said, closing his eyes, needing to know your answer before he thrusted faster. He needed to know what to do now that he was getting close. God he hoped you would say yes. Mattheo wanted to see your little cunt filled up with his cum. He wanted to see it drip out of you..He looked at you realizing you had been shaking from sheer pleasure. The reason why you weren’t answering him was because you had came around him without him fully realizing it while in his own thoughts.

“Mattheo..”

He looked at you quite lovingly, tucking your hair back into place, “I’m right here.” He gently taps on your cheek, trying to pull you from your trance, “I’m right here, open your eyes. Look at me.” You open your eyes slowly to him, giving him a fucked out smile. He smiled back at you, “that’s my girl.”

“...yes fill me up with your cum. It’ll be an honor.”

With that he did not need to be told twice, his smile widened. He kissed you on the lips before ramming himself back into you. He still didn’t give up on the attention he was giving your clit. It was starting to ache by how overstimulated you were. It was so red and swollen. There was no way in hell you were going to tell him to stop. He was just using you like a toy at this point, and you were loving it. He had your legs pressed together and to your chest again, you were hugging them for dear life. You kept calling his name, begging him to fill you. “Princess, I love you so much..I lovee - I love yo u.” He stammered out “I love you..m-more than anyone i n my l-life.” He shook, and stayed still a moment as he came.

“I love you too.” You said, a little sadly as he pulled out of you. He gave you another kiss on the lips, before just peppering your face with kisses.

“You’ve always been mine, you know that right?”

“Mhmm” You close your eyes.

He sighs contently, kneeling a bit. He watched as his cum started to be squeezed out of you. He thought he would love it, but he just wanted it to stay inside of you. He brought his two fingers to your hole, scooping up the cum that escaped and pressing it back into you. He curled his fingers once more, starting to pump in and out carefully. You moaned out, grabbing his wrist. You opened your eyes and he was already looking into yours. He smiled his devilish smile. Oh fuck…

“Yeah, I'm not done with you just yet, princess.”

With that it was like he was trying making up for lost time with you.~

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