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A formaldehyde chapter? Long time no see fr

Take My Tea With Formaldehyde

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Chapter 16: Tether Me To The Ground

(More beneath cut)

Letting go of Grian felt next to impossible.

It was so wonderful, so dreamlike to have him back in his arms, that Mumbo feared letting him go would be all it took for Grian to push him away again. As if one single, out of place breath would shatter the moment and Grian would change his mind about being close to him. Or, even worse, Mumbo would suddenly wake up in his bed, cold and alone, and he would have to face the reality that it was all just a fabrication of his pathetic, lonely mind.

That Grian would never be a part of his life again.

Really, Mumbo didn’t think he could handle something like that. It would shatter him into pieces far too small to reshape back into what it once was. He didn't want that; to be lonely again.

So, he wrapped his arms around Grian even tighter.

Grian squeaked against him, but he did not pull back. Mumbo’s chest felt tight, a clenched fist falling into place around his heart and tugging. He wanted to hold on forever, until they were completely drenched by the rain, until they were the only things that existed in the universe.

He hadn’t realised before just how much he'd missed the smell of Grian's shampoo. It was so familiar, so comforting - like he was being welcomed home after a long year away. The scent wasn’t something he'd ever given much thought to before, a constant companion that hung around his blankets and the occasional hoodie, but now that it had been absent from his life for so long... he didn't ever want to lose it again.

Unwinding his arms from around Grian’s shoulders felt impossible. He wouldn’t do it, not even as his shoes began to fill with rainwater, not even for the warm, homemade meal had never sounded so appetising before, or–

Oh no.

“My groceries!” Mumbo exclaimed, rapidly yanking himself away from Grian to search the area for his forgotten shopping.

“Your what?” Grian asked, almost blearily. He blinked up at Mumbo a few times, as if trying to reorient himself after such a sudden shift. “Y-you're not carrying any…?”

His tone was, unsurprisingly, confused. Stiff, like he was trying his best to be lighthearted but wasn’t sure where the line fell. It was so strange, so out of place between the two of them, and the hint of insecurity in Grian’s voice made Mumbo's heart twist- a sharp pang of grief next to the embarrassment at his sudden realisation.

“I- I dropped my groceries,” Mumbo stammered, trying frantically to ignore the ache in his chest. To do anything but focus on that awful tension on Grian’s face. “They're on the other side of the street! Oh, they must be completely ruined now!”

Grian gaped for just a moment or two, a fish out of water as he searched for the words to say. “We might be able to save some? They can't all be ruined,” he said, obviously trying to keep the mood up.

Mumbo nodded, absentmindedly. He really hoped that would be the case. He wouldn't get the meal he wanted if everything was damaged. It was definitely the wrong thing to focus on in that moment, but he had been looking forward to it- to think that it might be ruined… that was just another thought that he wanted to avoid.

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes finally landing on the discarded shopping bags. “Let's check.”

It was pure instinct, when Mumbo grabbed Grian’s hand in his, linking their fingers together in a tight grip. It had just been so strange to see Grian shift from foot to foot, fidgeting in place like he didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore, now that they weren’t clenched in the back of Mumbo’s shirt. Comforting him like they used to - with their hands intertwined and, ideally, a steaming pot of tea steeping between them - was just so natural.

It wasn't until they reached the groceries that Mumbo realised, mind caught on the tea leaves that he had bought earlier, surely discarded in a puddle somewhere.

"Oh- Uh, sorry about that," he said awkwardly, looking down at their hands. It was a familiar sight. Paler, colder than usual- but so reminiscent of how things once were. Of how Mumbo was so sure they would never be again.

"Ah, no. It's fine," Grian replied, his words slow and hesitant. They dripped from his tongue like syrup, something sweet and tender and slow, and Mumbo pretended not to notice that they both let the touch linger for a moment longer than necessary.

He pretended not to notice the slight blush on Grian's face.

A sight like that… it was from discomfort, no doubt. It had to be.

"Well," Grian cleared his throat, averting his eyes from Mumbo’s now-empty hand and towards the spilled groceries. "There might be some that we could save."

Mumbo nodded in agreement. The bags hadn't broken, thankfully, and only some of it had spilled out onto the sidewalk. "Yeah." He crouched down, tilting the bag upright with a grunt. "Would you- would you mind helping me check what's fine and what isn't? Uh, it's fine if you don't want to, of course, I just-"

Grian cut him off, kneeling down beside him. "Don't be silly,” he said, ��Of course I'll help."

They worked quietly for the most part, hands passing over bruised apples and setting boxes of tea back into the shopping bags. It was a much quicker fix, working side by side like this, and Mumbo couldn’t help it as his heartbeat sped up at the proximity. Sitting so closely together, their hands occasionally brushing - it felt like lightning. Like the snapshots of flashing light and the prickling feeling of hairs standing on end.

Most of the groceries were fine, it turned out. Sure, the bread that Mumbo had bought from the bakery had turned soggy from the rain, and one of the jars of jam, a cheap one that Mumbo bought just because, was broken. But… that was all that would need to be replaced.

With Grian at his side and electricity prickling across his skin, it almost felt like a miracle.

Mumbo gathered the refilled bags together with only a little bit of struggle, Grian watching on with muffled laughter, exactly as things should be. The pair of them crossed back over the street, walking quietly until they landed back in front of Mumbo’s apartment building again.

"I'll just... head up and leave these quickly," Mumbo said, nudging his shoulders up to gesture to the bags slung over each of them. "And...then-"

"Grocery store? Together?" Grian said, finishing Mumbo's sentence for him with a small, slightly nervous smile. His jaw was tight, and something about his smile told Mumbo that he almost expected him to say no and just go alone, that they'd say goodbye then and there.

Instead, Mumbo gave him a - hopefully comforting - smile in return. "Grocery store,” he replied with a nod.

Grian’s eyes lit up in an instant, a new sort of clarity banishing the stressed glassiness that had reflected across them before. Suddenly, he looked more alert than he’d been before, as if he’d woken up from a nightmare and finally realised that it was just a dream.

"Sounds good,” he replied, a new, breathless quality to his voice. “I'll- I’ll wait here for you? There's no real point in me following you all the way up…”

Mumbo nodded, swallowing thickly in an attempt to rid himself of the lump in his throat. “Yeah no, you're right. I'll be right down in a second.”

It didn't take long for Mumbo to head up to the apartment. He quickly kicked off his shoes in the entryway, and put the groceries in the fridge without caring where he placed the things. The unbroken jars were left on the counter to be sorted later, and the shattered glass that the pair of them had gathered was carefully tipped into the bin. He took a moment to mourn the bread, before letting it follow suit.

Being quick was the main thing on his mind, desperate not to inconvenience Grian or send the wrong signal. He didn’t know what he’d do if Grian left, if he got back downstairs just to see that he had left Mumbo once again. It felt insurmountable, that possibility of being abandoned, but–

Pausing in the hallway of his apartment, the bare walls suddenly felt incomplete. The pictures of his and Grian’s friendship were still missing from his walls, and the catharsis that had followed that thought for so long was… gone. In an instant.

He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty that he'd taken them down. Sure, he'd needed it at the time, but he hoped Grian wouldn’t take it as anything deeper than that. He didn’t want to upset him, he wanted to do this right.

In that instant, standing in his hallway and staring at the empty spaces where all of his best memories used to be, Mumbo knew that he needed to go back down there. Even if Grian wasn’t waiting, he needed to face it.

Mumbo sighed and toed his shoes on, before rushing back out of the front door.

It felt like he was holding his breath for the whole of the journey down, every step felt like jumping a gaping chasm. It was so intimidating, to care for someone so deeply and have no idea where he stood with them, but-

Wasn’t it worth it?

“Sorry for taking so long,” he breathed as he came to a stop in front of Grian, standing exactly where Mumbo had left him.

“It's alright, you were pretty quick, honestly,” Grian shrugged, tapping the ash from his cigarette with a practised hand. He turned his head away, taking one final drag and breathing it out into the open air of the street before putting the cigarette out under the heel of his boot. He looked nervous again, his brows knitted together and the smell of smoke clinging to him like a fog.

The waiting must have gotten to him too, Mumbo thought, and suddenly Grian following him upstairs felt as if it might have been worth it after all.

With a slow, measured breath, Grian pushed himself off the wall and fell into place beside Mumbo like a moon hitting its orbit. As the rain pattered down behind them, Grian asked, “Grocery store?”

Nodding in response felt a little like being pulled into orbit too.

Honestly, going to the grocery store with Grian turned out to be surprisingly fun, albeit a little awkward.

It had been so long since they last met, and Grian had just returned to his life from nowhere, and yet…it was weirdly fun. It felt good to walk together again, to stroll down city streets and point out random, pointless things that they saw. Nodding towards a movie poster that the other might enjoy, or stopping to pet a stray cat together - Mumbo had never realised how the lack of those things had felt like a bullet hole; an open, weeping wound that he just couldn’t patch on his own.

Getting to the grocery store had been half of the fun, and then Grian gave him a dramatic bow as he handed over a basket, and Mumbo couldn’t help but chortle along with his antics. As the two of them paced the aisles of the grocery store, gathering whatever groceries had ended up too damaged to save and sneaking a couple of extras into the basket too, their conversation was near constant.

They would joke and prod at each other, lifting silly or obviously knock-off products off the shelf and laughing together, like they were trying to find their way back to their causal banter. The jokes were slightly awkward and never really that good, but despite that, without fail, they would both always find themselves laughing.

Occasionally, there would be an unnatural silence or a silted reply, something to remind them that they were not yet back to normal, but- it felt like progress.

Like one step forward.

When they were finished, Grian immediately fished up his wallet from his pocket, and when Mumbo tried to stop him from paying, he said, "Mumbo, it's my fault your groceries got destroyed to begin with. Please just- let me pay for these ones.”

His words carried a weight, something that seemed so out of place at that moment, just buying groceries, just spending time together doing ordinary things. His face was set into something determined as he took out his credit card and held it up.

“Please?" Grian asked again.

Mumbo couldn't say no, not when he looked so sure of himself. He had missed Grian's smile, and if he had known how big Grian would smile when Mumbo said yes to the offer, he would've said yes even quicker.

He'd apparently always be weak to Grian’s smile, no matter what.

On their way back from the grocery store, as Mumbo was midway through telling Grian about a silly bird that had landed on his windowsill a few days earlier, Grian suddenly stopped.

Mumbo turned back to look at him, finding him staring at the sleek, bold sign of the shop that they were outside of: the bakery that Mumbo had visited earlier that day.

He looked contemplative for a moment, before turning to look in Mumbo’s direction and pointing at the sign. “Is this the place you got that bread from?” He asked.

Puzzled, Mumbo hummed, “Yeah?”

Without another word, Grian stepped into the entrance, taking a deep breath in through his nose to savour the warm, fresh smell of the store. He peered back over his shoulder once he noticed Mumbo wasn’t following him.

“C��mon, aren’t we going to replace that bread as well? It did end up ruined by the rain.” He said, mouth hanging open as if he had something else to say too, but wasn’t quite sure how to word it.

Mumbo waited, patient and unwavering with a grocery bag over his shoulder. They stood like that for a while, maybe thirty seconds as Grian debated his words, lips shifting ever so slightly like he was weighing them up on his tongue.

Then, he looked away, and if Mumbo hadn’t been paying such close attention, he might’ve missed Grian’s whispered, “You looked upset.”

His heart is swelling in his chest, something warm and tight that sits heavy at his core. It’s a little like an anchor, weighing him in place and pinning his feet to the ground, but that grounding sensation is so comfortable at the same time. He wants to bask in it, to stretch out and feel it all like a cat in the sun. It’s just so- thoughtful. So familiar.

He missed it. Missed this side of his best friend.

With a smile, Mumbo nods. He takes Grian’s hand in his own as he brushes past him and into the bakery. “Yeah,” he smiles, and the words are warm like hot cocoa on a cold winter’s night. “That sounds like a good idea.”

In the end, they left with more than just the bread.

This time, Mumbo paid for the replacement loaf - another crisp, mouthwatering thing that he was excited to dig into - but apparently, Grian had some more money to spend on Mumbo too. He wound up buying some pastries for the two of them, a couple of golden croissants and pain au chocolat that were fresh out of the oven, the chocolate still half-melted and gooey.

There was some oddly domestic arguing about who should pay, a short and discreet battle of pushing each other's credit cards away from the register when they finally got to paying. Grian demanded that he was buying pastries for the two of them, like it was a given that he'd get something for both. Like it was some irrefutable fact, even as Mumbo reminded him that he’d paid for the ruined groceries.

Grian had been smiling the whole time they play-fought as the poor cashier waited to serve them – the sort of wide, stretching grin that came from a joy too large to contain. Oh, how Mumbo had missed it. He'd missed seeing Grian happy.

They’d split the payment eventually, and the rest of the walk back to Mumbo's house was pleasant as well. The two of them chatted casually about nothing, about whatever came to mind, no matter how random or silly. If Mumbo wanted to, he could close his eyes and pretend that everything was the way it always had been.

But, as they approached his apartment building once again, it only became more obvious that it wasn’t.

It was impossible to ignore just how much had changed as Grian started to lag behind, his steps slowing down and his chatter growing quiet. He seemed hesitant, like he was unsure if he should really be there, and for a second, Mumbo was struck by that same worry that Grian would leave. He fell quiet too as he stepped into the entryway of the apartment block, an impenetrable silence growing between them, awful and bulbous.

If Grian was going to leave, this was the time. If he was going to turn tail, like this entire day had been nothing but a fluke, then it had to be now.

Mumbo held his breath, and he didn’t let it go until Grian was following him up the stairs.

There was something newly tense between them as they arrived at Mumbo’s apartment, and neither of them said a word as Mumbo opened the door to let them both inside. Taking off their shoes by the door was second nature, a force of habit that had always existed in this place. Grian was a little stiff as he placed his shoes on the rack, in the same spot that he always used, as if being here was a machine that had not been turned on in years, the first few moments followed by creaks and groans as he shook off the rust.

Mumbo set his grocery bag down for a moment to shuck off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack before heading wordlessly to the kitchen to unpack the shopping. It felt strange, knowing that Grian was just down the hall and out of sight – like he was a friend visiting for the first time, that initial guest awkwardness hanging between them – but Mumbo was grateful for the moment’s reprieve nonetheless.

He took a breath, something careful and measured.

From the hallway, Grian called, “Mumbo?”

"Hm?" He paused, unsure of whether he should go back over to Grian to check on him – like he would do if this really was his first time coming over – or if he should trust that Grian was instead familiar enough with the place that it was like a second home to him at one point.

"Should I- maybe hang our coats in the bathroom instead? They're soaking wet…" He asked, nerves still bleeding into his tone.

At least he’s not the only one, Mumbo thought distantly.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. Mumbo hadn't even thought about that, a bit too caught up in the fact that Grian was back at his apartment. "Yes, that'd be really sweet of you if you did."

"Will do then." Grian replied, and Mumbo could hear the smile in his voice.

Mumbo worked diligently as Grian shuffled about down the hall. He could hear him getting hangers out of the closet and shucking the fabric onto them, ready to hook them up over something in the bathroom. Probably the shower rail, Mumbo thought distantly as he put the groceries away, sliding dented cans of beans into the cupboard and shuffling through the bags of fruit that had been dropped. Some of them were too squashed to save, instead being tossed into the bin, but most of them seemed to be in pretty good condition as he rinsed them off in the sink.

He was so focused on sorting out the groceries that he didn’t realise how long it had taken Grian to return to the kitchen until he was finally sidling into place on the other side of the counter. Mumbo paused, puzzled, and opened his mouth to ask what had taken so long.

Then he realised.

Like a spear of ice through his chest, Mumbo realised that Grian must’ve seen that the posters were gone. He must have – after all, the door to the bathroom did go directly into Mumbo's bedroom, and he had a bad habit of leaving the door open. The stark blankness of the walls wasn’t easy to ignore, either.

The posters, the CDs and the photos of them together - they were all gone, and Grian had seen it.

Maybe he-

Grian was fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweater as he stood before Mumbo, eyes downturned and tired. Mumbo found himself lost for words again, unable to think of a single thing to say. Should he offer up an explanation? Should he wait for Grian to make the first move? Did he even want them to get into all of that right now? All of the hurt; the raw, aching wounds in his heart?

When Grian cleared his throat, Mumbo was certain that the cobbled-together peace they had created together was about to fall apart all over again. Their conversations and jokes, the walk to the grocery store and back, the bread – it would have all been for nothing.

Instead, all Grian asked was, "Can I help?"

Huh.

"S-sure,” Mumbo replied, a little dazed.

It felt so strange, a building tension like lightning just about to strike, electricity building in the air. Higher and higher and then- nothing. No accusing words, no hurt shouting.

That shouldn’t have been as shocking to him as it was.

“Okay,” Grian nodded, reaching into the bag to grab the bread.

“Okay,” Mumbo returned to washing the fruit.

And… then they didn't need to speak more. They fell back into quiet, an easy routine of passing things to each other and moving around the room with little effort. Eventually, Mumbo’s anxiety at the changes Grian must have noticed died down, and he was able to breathe just a little easier again. It felt so strange, shifting around each other in the kitchen again; it was still second nature, even after so long apart. Sure, they did bump into each other every once in a while, but even that was familiar.

It was in that moment that Mumbo realised just how tired he was of feeling scared. Of waiting for the other shoe to drop, so shaken in his friendships that it was as if he didn’t remember how to trust anymore.

He was sick of it, of not being able to look Grian in the eyes and trust his intentions. Of not being able to hear him promising to wait, and knowing that he would be there whenever Mumbo returned.

This comfort, this mundane song and dance that they had done so many times before, he missed it more than anything. He missed having a friendship that was easy, so badly that it was like his heart was weeping.

Like this, shifting around each other in the kitchen as Grian eventually put the kettle on to boil and Mumbo set out some tea leaves to steep, he could almost glimpse the way that things had been.

His heart ached for it. He wanted it back so badly, wanted things to return to the way they had been in the past. Wanted the two of them to be the natural duo they always had been.

Then, suddenly, they were sitting on opposite sides of the table, just like they were that night. The momentary comfort had vanished, and instead it all just felt awkward. Far too awkward, far too uncomfortable.

Mumbo's gaze flickered to Grian's, wordless and unsure. Grian stared back, and the unwavering eye contact gave Mumbo an odd sense of deja vu. He tried to push it down, but it just ended up making him slightly nauseous.

Did Grian feel it too? The sickness at the reminder of what happened here before? He must've. Maybe that was why he hadn't started speaking, too afraid that the words from that night would creep their way up his throat, or maybe it was simply because he didn't know what to say.

The silence felt unbreakable, so thick and suffocating that he surely would’ve been able to touch it if he reached out to try.

Mumbo probably should say something, but he didn’t know what. And then-

Then, they were laughing.

For seemingly no reason. Just laughing. It was all so weird, so skewed to the left that he couldn’t help but to smile at the oddness of it all. It just felt so wrong, like biting into an apple and tasting a pear. It was so absolutely, bizarrely wrong. It shouldn't be like that.

Grian shook his head as he cackled at the sheer ridiculousness, his arms wrapping around his stomach as laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside the both of them, and suddenly, Mumbo understood that they were on the same page.

Somewhere in their time apart, they'd ended up in sync. They had needed it. They had both needed a break.

Maybe it wasn't enough just yet, but they were both making some progress. It had been a relief to see that Grian was a lot more healthy, it had been a relief to see him smile, and it had been a relief to have him back. Sure, there was still awkwardness, and an odd tension tingling the air, but things felt slightly more right.

And slowly, Mumbo allowed himself to hope. Hope that maybe, this actually would turn out okay. Maybe they'd manage to repair their fractured friendship. He wanted to try. He hoped Grian did too.

Still, there'd be a lot to sort out, and maybe it was too late. Mumbo didn't want to acknowledge that. Not yet.

At that moment, he just wanted to hope.

Even if just for a little while.

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